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There are so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven… Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky. And so I became the butt of the joke. I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked. Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke.” Taylor Swift- Daylight

Percy Weasley shot up in bed at the sound of soft tapping on his bedroom window. For one terrifying second he was transported back to the war where he jumped at every small sound which echoed through his flat, convincing himself death eaters had broken into his home to ‘interrogate’ him on the whereabouts of his family or Harry Potter. His heart was beating out of his chest, breath coming in gasps as he closed his eyes focusing on grounding himself to stave off a potential panic attack. 

Breathe just breathe.

In and out. In and out. Focus on what you know. The war is over, you are safe. You are in your tiny South London flat. The noise is probably either a tree branch or an owl. 

Just breathe. 

With two fingers on his thin, bony wrist he kept track of his heart rate which was slowly returning to his normal baseline measurement. Now that the overwhelming fear of capture was no longer constricting his chest, breathing became increasingly easier and less painful. He finally opened his eyes. Looking around the room for the noise which pulled him out of a deep sleep a few minutes ago. 

Rubbing his eyes, he saw the blurry outline of an owl staring at him through the slight gap in his curtains with its head tilted to one side. He wasn’t entirely sure about the time of day, the sun was barely visible just above the horizon bathing the small, cozy bedroom in a soft morning glow. Cluing him into the fact that it was several hours earlier than he generally cared to be awake on a Sunday morning. 

Fumbling for his horn-rimmed glasses resting on the nightstand everything came into sharp focus, he didn’t recognize the barn owl who was still waiting impatiently for him to open the window. It was too early for the Daily Prophet, and he couldn’t think of anyone who would be sending him a letter. If it was one of his family members, then they would have just apparated into his flat or used the floo network. 

Boundaries and Weasley were two words that did not tend to go hand in hand. He could not count the number of times he had been woken up by one or more of his siblings jumping on him because they just couldn't wait until normal waking hours. As an employee of the Transportation Department, he could easily get a floo ban for them or put a charm around his flat which would keep them out before 10 am. He also knew the twins, none of that meant anything to them. In fact, Fred and George would take it as a challenge of sorts and invent something to circumnavigate his security measures then sell it for a massive profit in their shop.

Probably naming the invention after him just because they knew the gesture would really boil his blood. 

The barn owl was now incessantly tapping on the window while ruffling its feathers in annoyance at him not opening the window immediately. Sighing he begrudgingly got out of his warm bed, silently cursing whoever dared interrupt his eight hours of much needed rest. After untying the envelope, the owl let out one loud hoot before giving him a quick nip on the finger making him yelp in pain.

Glaring at the feathered pest, who now flying back to wherever it had come from, he shook his sore finger then turned his attention to the envelope gripped in his hand. 

Turning it over he quickly realized the reason he didn’t recognize the owl was because it was more than likely borrowed from one of Harry or Ginny’s friends to send out the wedding invitations en masse. He felt a pang of sympathy for Harry who was up at this hour dealing with his bride-to-be and probably his future mother-in-law. 

Better him than me, he thought with a slight chuckle at the mental image of Harry sitting at the Weasleys' old wooden kitchen table while listening to endless wedding chatter that always seemed to fill the Burrow lately. This was the only wedding his mother was going to get to help plan and she was taking full advantage of the opportunity. 

Staring down at the gorgeous floral invitation on heavy paper Ginny and his mum picked out months ago he felt a mix of emotions. He was happy for his little sister and her soon to be husband, anyone with eyes could see the two of them were madly in love and that was all he could ask for any of his siblings. Ginny was the first one of the Weasley siblings getting married after the war, followed closely by George and Angelina Johnson who were set to be engaged any day now according to his brother. 

Smiling softly, he ran a thumb over the embossed words:

Together with their families,

Harry James Potter 

&

Ginevra Molly Weasley

Joyfully invite you to join in their wedding celebrations.

Saturday, August 5, 2001

At 6 o’clock in the evening

The Burrow

Ottery St. Catchpole 

Devon, England

While most of the Wizarding World set their eyes towards the future resolutely deciding to move forward with their lives after so much chaos and destruction, he found moving forward was almost impossible. No matter how much he tried; he always seemed to be firmly stuck in the past, trying to apologize and make amends for his mistakes. Desperately attempting to repair the gaping cracks in his relationship with his family members caused by a rift so long ago. He spent the past two years trying to claw his way back to the surface and out from under the heavy burden of guilt which permeated his every thought and action.

The war left him a hollow shell of who he once was, along with a constant sensation he was being held underwater by the immense regret regarding his choices before and during the war. In the end he came back to his family to fight alongside Harry Potter and the Order but never truly felt the gesture fully absolved him of all accountability for his previous actions. 

After the war ended and Lord Voldemort had finally been vanquished the Wizarding World had immediately gone into a state of repair. The first order of business had been to round up all of the death eaters and their sympathizers who infiltrated and overthrown the Ministry during that terrifying final year of Voldemort’s uprising. As a high-ranking Ministry official during that time, he'd been under intense scrutiny in the months following the Battle of Hogwarts, thankfully a few of the Order members who were undercover at the time came to his aide as key witnesses and saved him from an Azkaban sentence. 

He would forever be indebted to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks for speaking up on his behalf. His own family had already been through so much shock and grief that he couldn’t imagine what being sentenced to years just rotting away in a cell in Azkaban would have done to his mum. 

It had been hard enough to spend months begging his family members to grant him forgiveness, he couldn’t imagine having to also face a formal trial for war crimes at the same time. Things were still tense and difficult with his family even after nearly two years, tension still permeated nearly every conversation. By his best guess it all went back to the fact he never truly fit in with family. 

In outward appearances there was no doubt he was a member of the family, but his personality was so vastly different from either of his parents or siblings that he had always been an outsider. The undeniable black sheep of the large Weasley family. 

Forced to spend a lifetime hovering on the sidelines. Only included when it was necessary, always as an afterthought. The only person in his family who reached out to him during those horrid months following the war had been Charlie. The two of them had grown closer over the years as they seemed to have finally found some common ground. 

Charlie, while not against the Order, had not actively participated in the majority of the fighting until the final battle. He stayed in Romania tending to his dragons and ignored his mother’s repeated pleas to come back to England and his father's insistence he pledge his unwavering loyalty to Dumbledore. At times it seemed as if Charlie was one of the only people who truly understood his hesitancy regarding his former headmaster. 

The rest of the Weasley family and their partners seemed to adore and worship the former headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yet one more thing which set him apart from his entire family. 

He was supposed to be meeting Charlie for lunch before he headed back to Romania to continue working with his dragons. This week he had been busy at the Ministry fighting for stricter regulations regarding the import and export of items made with dragon hide and scales. If he was still in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, then he would have seen about pulling some strings to help Charlie and his other dragon tamers achieve their goal. As it stood, he didn’t know many of the Ministry workers after the ‘great purge of 1998’ as it was now referred to. 

Figuring there was no going back to sleep at this point he shuffled into the kitchen to make himself a pot of strong coffee and start to get ready for the day ahead. 

One day at a time, he told himself as he filled the filter with the fragrant coffee grounds. The phrase quickly became the Weasley family motto after the war and it was now something he told himself as he was starting each day. 

Just take it one day at a time.

He enjoyed the anonymity of the muggle world. Here he was not the traitor son or the boy who sided against the savior of the Wizarding World. He was just another red-headed freckle faced twenty something year old having lunch with his brother. 

None of his family seemed to understand his insistence on living in muggle London. Of course, his dad always asked him a million questions when he came over to his flat and he had modern wizarding conveniences like the floo network. He just enjoyed the unique opportunity of being a nobody. No one stared or whispered behind his back as he walked to and from work or while he was running his errands. He could be anybody he wanted to be in muggle London, the anonymity offered him a sense of freedom he hadn't known in years. 

His older brother looked absolutely lost as he walked into the pub he had chosen as the spot for their lunch date. He'd given very specific directions and even offered to come get his brother, but Charlie insisted he could find the place on his own. While Charlie hadn’t been wrong about the fact he could find his way here, he was almost half an hour late. Given the circumstances he wouldn’t mention it or the fact that he was already on his second beer and feeling a little buzzed. 

Catching his brother’s eye across the pub he waved him over. Charlie grinned at him, giving him a hug before ordering himself a beer as well. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Charlie apologized. Sitting down and taking a sip of the beer, smacking his lips in approval. 

“No worries. Are you coming to the Weasley Sunday dinner or going back to Romania right after this?”

Charlie gave him a ‘what do you think’ look. “Romania of course. I avoid Sunday dinner with our dear mother as though it was dragon pox.”

“Lucky bastard,” he muttered, swirling his beer around in the glass. 

Sunday dinner with the whole Weasley family felt more like traversing a landmine than anything else. He always had to walk on eggshells to avoid saying anything which would upset his mother or cause a fight between him and his father. He knew tonight the big topic of conversation would be the upcoming wedding for Ginny and Harry which meant his mother would be in rare form fussing over how her third oldest son was utterly alone. He swore if mum tried to set him up with one more ‘nice girl that he could really fall for’ he was going to start a riot. 

Charlie was staring at him with a sympathetic expression seeming to understand where his silent thoughts were going. He tried to smile at him but knew it came across as more of a grimace.

“How did your meetings go?” he asked to keep the topic of conversation away from him and what he'd been up to.

He didn't relish the idea of having Charlie give him pitying glances across the table when all he had to offer was; he went to work, took some walks, and read a few good books. The most exciting thing that had happened to him recently was he discovered his favorite Thai restaurant delivered for a small fee. Not exactly the earth-shattering news his dragon trainer of a brother wanted to hear. 

Charlie grinned from ear to ear, his eyes taking on a manic glint he always got whenever he talked about his dragons. “Fantastic! I worked a little bit with Hermione to prepare the reports we presented to the council. I met Luna Lovegood, apparently, she is Ginny’s friend as well as Harry’s. Sort of an odd girl but very passionate about ensuring the dragons are well protected from the poachers who want to hurt them.”

“Luna is… an odd one for sure,” he said struggling not to use the word loony. He didn’t know her well in school considering she was Ginny’s age, but he did know the other kids called her Loony Lovegood. As someone who was teased and bullied mercilessly as well, he always made a point to stand up for her. Even if she was rather odd to begin with. 

“Heading back to the dragon reserve after this and will be back next week to finish up the last bit of paperwork. The new stricter regulations should be coming out in a few weeks. Including a large fine and the potential for a term in Azkaban for anyone caught trying to harm a dragon or her eggs.”

“That’s great,” he smiled, signaling the very attractive bartender that he needed another beer. 

“Are you trying to get plastered or something?” Charlie teased. He could feel the familiar buzzing in his veins letting him know the alcohol was setting in. A few more of these and his mum could say anything she wanted to him, and he wouldn't care. Heck, his dad or brothers could call him the family traitor tonight. He would probably just smile at them, nodding his head in agreement. 

“Only way I am going to survive this evening is if I am a little bit buzzed. Especially since someone is abandoning me for some silly dragons,” he smiled at Charlie, knowing his weak insult of his brother's beloved dragons would rile him up. 

Charlie gave him a look which suggested he shouldn't antagonize his biggest supporter but didn’t comment on the dig at the dragons or his abandonment of his younger brother in his time of need. “You know what you need my dear brother? You have to get you a permadate,” Charlie grinned, leaning across the table and looking him in the eyes.  

“A what?” he asked, confused as to what in Merlin’s name Charlie could be referring to. 

“A permanent date, permadate for short. Like what I have with Tonks. It is a person you have a standing agreement with, the gist is whenever the other needs a date to something you go together. It has worked quite well over the past several years. It gives me someone to talk to at weddings or other family functions and it gets our lovely mother off my back. Personally, that is my favorite perk of the whole arrangement.”

He was staring at his brother in utter shock. Granted he knew Charlie was both asexual and aromantic, but he hadn't realized that him bringing Tonks was an arrangement they had. He'd always just assumed it was because Tonks was a good friend of his and was already well liked by his family because of her involvement in the Order of the Phoenix. “Tonks isn’t just being nice?”

“Well, she is,” Charlie laughed. “But it is more of an arrangement the two of us have. I accompany her to things as well. It has to be mutually beneficial, or you just come off as a selfish arsehole.”

Charlie gave him a wink and he suddenly felt quite apprehensive about this whole permadate situation. “This isn’t some sort of weird friends with benefits thing, is it?”

“Not unless you want it to be,” Charlie wagged his eyebrows suggestively, causing a blush to form on his younger brother’s cheeks. “In my case the only real benefit is that mum leaves me alone for all the major holidays and other Weasley functions.”

He thought about the dinner he was about to suffer through and his mother’s insistence he find someone to bring to the upcoming wedding festivities. That might not be so bad but after they were done with this wedding there would be George and Angelina to contend with and after that Ron would probably propose to his current girlfriend. Merlin’s beard! At this rate Fred was likely to finally convince Hermione to go out with him before he ever found someone to settle down with. Which really was saying something, Fred had been actively pursuing a reluctant Hermione for almost a year now and had yet to manage successfully navigate past the friendzone. It was both painful and a little hilarious to watch him try to seduce her into falling in love with his goofy self. 

“Right now, a permadate sounds like a fantastic idea,” he mumbled into his beer. “I have a Ministry party next weekend and of course there is the whole perk of finally getting mum off my back.”

“What about that Penny girl? You still talk to her, get her to be your permadate.”

“Penny is engaged to be married to a girl she met a few years ago. I don’t think her fiance would be too happy about the arrangement. Besides, our whole relationship was a sham to begin with. Neither one of us wanted to come out in school so we ‘dated’ each other to avoid suspicion.”

“Hmmmm-” Charlie tapped his chin lost in thought. “Well, surely there is someone you know who would be more than happy to accompany you to your stuffy Ministry functions and put up with your crazy family on occasion.”

“No one I can think of,” he said miserably. "Though I suppose mum would be happy if I brought home a 'nice young girl'"

He knew quite a number of people at the Ministry, but he wasn’t close to many people these days. Preferring to keep to himself and hold people at a comfortable distance so they wouldn’t see what a mess he was. On the outside he was the same orderly and put together Percy Weasley he had been at Hogwarts but on the inside, he felt like he was slowly unraveling.

There would be nothing of him left if it continued for much longer, but he didn’t know what to do to stop the spiral. Everything he tried only seemed to push him further into his own head. He didn’t want to put anyone through having to deal with his multitude of issues and emotional baggage. He wasn’t worth all the trouble.

Charlie took another sip of his beer. “Mum means well you know,” his brother said quietly. “She just worries about your happiness.”

“She has a funny way of showing it,” he said with a bitterness he hadn’t quite meant to creep into his words. His mum had been one of the first to welcome him back into the family with open arms and he was eternally grateful for that fact. He just wished she would lay off of him a little and give him the space he needed to heal properly. 

“That she does,” Charlie agreed with a small laugh. Then got a serious look on his face as he met his gaze, putting his calloused palm over his own slender hand. “I worry about you as well, you know. I know how hard you are on yourself, and I just don’t want you to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for something the rest of us have already forgiven you for. I especially don’t want you to let the rest of the family labor under the impression that you are straight simply because you are afraid of their reactions. You deserve to be happy.”

The problem was that he didn’t. He didn’t deserve happiness, not even an ounce of it. Not after what he put his family through. Not after turning his back on his family and aligning himself with the Ministry. They might say they have forgiven him but how could they ever truly forgive him? Even if they had the capacity for such unconditional love, he wasn't sure he would deserve it. 

“None of them would ever understand. They wouldn’t accept me dating a man,” he said quietly, feeling his eyes fill with hot tears he quickly wiped away with the sleeve of his shirt. 

Charlie reached out and affectionately tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “Percy, they would probably be more accepting than you think,” he sighed. “Not saying they won’t have some questions or take the piss out of you a little bit. They are our siblings after all, but they love you. Mum and dad will accept whoever you date in time as well. They just want the best for you, we all do.”

He could no longer look at his brother, the shame of his decisions causing his ears to turn bright red. “I don’t deserve the best. Not after what I did to mum, to everyone in the family.”

“That just isn’t true, Perce. You were nineteen years old and there was a war going on,” Charlie’s voice was stern but gentle. “Just promise me one thing ok? Promise me you will at least try to quit living in the past? I worry about you know. I just want you to find a way to smile and laugh again.”

“I have never smiled and laughed,” he reminded him. “Same old uptight perfect Percy. Wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the arse.”

Charlie just shook his head at him. “Promise me two things. One, you will finally put the past behind you in a locked box and move on. Two, you will quit listening to the twins. They are idiots, but they are idiots who care about you. Like mum they just have a funny way of showing it.”

“They didn’t hide your prefect badge, charm it to say ugly things, or spend months calling you the family traitor. They even charmed my work badge to say that one day while I was living there for a few months after the war.”

“True,” Charlie nodded, taking his concerns into account with a sincerity no one else in his family afforded to him. “But again, the whole living in the past thing. Try to move on, ok? It’s not good for your mental state to be so bogged down in the decisions you made as a nineteen-year-old. Also, it’s the twins. They tease everybody.”

“They never altered your prefect badge,” he whined. 

Charlie chuckled at him, reaching over to ruffle his hair like he did when they were kids. He swatted at his hand half-heartedly. “That is because they are scared of me. Try fighting back with some nasty hexes or something. They will leave you alone.”

“I suppose a hex or two would solve at least one of my issues,” he raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “How do I get mum to leave me alone?”

“Ah,” Charlie got a manic gleam in his eye, holding up one finger as if he was about to reveal some master plan. “Two options. One you find yourself some incredibly handsome man she will approve of, or you get yourself a permadate. Either way she will know you are not alone anymore and be temporarily satisfied. Personally, I think the permadate is the way to go. Mum is incredibly picky about her children’s partners. Just look at poor Fleur, she had quite the time trying to get mum’s approval and it is still touch and go at times.”

“Perhaps I should go the route of finding a horrible human being for a permadate. That way when I eventually do find someone, they will look fantastic by comparison.”

Charlie tapped his finger to his forehead. “See, now you are thinking. Though I would recommend the permadate being someone you can stand being around for long periods of time and that you genuinely have fun with. Makes Weasley functions bearable.”

“I’ll put an ad in the Prophet,” he quipped. "'Wanted- someone who can put up with my insane family and keep me from losing my mind at Sunday dinners'"

"It might not be that bad," Charlie offered a halfhearted optimistic opinion. "Mum might be so focused on the bride to be she will finally leave you alone."

He highly doubted his mum would ever forget about his shortcomings. More than likely the upcoming wedding would spur his mother on to new heights of incessant nagging as she pushed her children to follow a set plan for their lives. Whether they wanted to or not was irrelevant, she was determined they would be happy married to someone she approved of. Anything which deviated from the plan would only be tolerated for a short amount of time. He knew his time was drawing near. "Highly doubt that," he sighed, ordering another beer from the cute bartender. 

Perhaps he would bring the bartender to dinner tonight. Now that would really cause a stir at the Weasley household.

He arrived outside of the Burrow later the same evening, still slightly hungover from lunch despite having chugged a sober-up potion. He took a few seconds to just breathe before he entered the chaotic house. It wasn’t anyone’s fault necessarily; it was just what happened when most of the Weasleys were together. Chaos followed and it was usually deafeningly loud. 

Walking through the door he was immediately bombarded by his little sister who was practically humming with excitement. She thrust a flute of celebratory champagne into his hands, wobbling slightly as if she'd already had quite a bit herself. 

“Do you have your RSVP card?” Ginny asked with a grin, holding out her hand expectantly. Looking down at it she frowned but thankfully didn’t mention the lack of a checkmark next to the option to bring a guest. “That makes thirty-five people.”

Harry walked into the room and planted a passionate kiss on Ginny’s lips which made her blush. “Thirty-six actually. Had lunch with Oliver today and he gave me his RSVP. It is ok that I invited him, right Percy?”

“Of course,” he gave a tight smile. “You can invite whoever you want to your own wedding. Oliver and I are fine.”

Harry nodded his head with a look which suggested he didn’t quite believe him, but he wasn’t going to push the issue. “Oliver told me his managers are going to officially release a statement tomorrow naming him as the new captain of Puddlemere United. He asked if I could put ‘Captain Wood’ on his place card at the wedding. Not entirely sure if he was joking or not.”

“Merlin!” Ginny rolled her eyes. “The Holyhead Harpies play them in three weeks. He is going to be absolutely insufferable. Might just have to chuck a Quaffle at his head- on accident of course.” His sister amended the last bit when he gave her a stern look and opened his mouth to remind her of some of the rules against purposefully fouling a playing in the middle of a Quidditch match. 

“Oh George!” Fred called, taking a break from annoying Hermione. They were both sitting at the old wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. He could only imagine his brother was trying to get her to agree to just one date with him if not just really going for it and suggesting they be wedding dates. “Our dear former Gryffindor Quidditch captain is a captain once more!”

“Really?” called George from the next room. “Angelina will be so thrilled to hear that the next time the Wimbourne Wasps play Puddlemere she will be scoring on the captain of the opposing team.”

“Like Oliver would ever let anyone score on him,” Ginny nudged Harry with a wink. “Other than me of course because otherwise I would hex him next time we go over for dinner.”

“Speaking of Oliver. You never did tell us what happened between the two of you,” Fred chided, staring directly at him as he quickly assessed the Burrow for the quickest escape route. 

“Yes,” agreed George, appearing out of nowhere. “I think right now is as good a time as any to find out why you guys aren’t best mates anymore.”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his champagne. “Water under the bridge.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t really spoken to Oliver since before the war when he ruined their eight-year friendship in the course of one night. After the war they said a few perfunctory words to each other and since then he actively avoided Oliver at all costs. While he bitterly regretted having hurt his former best mate, he never could quite make himself seek his forgiveness. He told himself it was because he was just busy, though he knew it had more to do with him terrified of what Oliver would have to say to him.

He was aware Oliver was still mates with Fred and George and had become better acquainted with Harry now that they were both older and the age gap no longer seemed so large. Four years was a lot when you were fifteen and had an eleven-year-old on the team who never played Quidditch before. Oliver was of course never rude to Harry during their time at Hogwarts but being best mates with an annoying younger student hadn’t been high on his list of things to do. 

Thankfully he was saved from having to answer any additional questions by his mum bustling in and kissing Harry on the cheek. “Just four more months and we will officially be the Weasley-Potter clan. One more son to add to my brood. Seven sons total and many more daughters to go.”

She gave Fred, George, Ron and himself a conspiratorial wink. Fred and George just grinned at their mum and Ron rolled his eyes. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the ground, not daring to look at any of his family members for fear they would see the truth. His family never seemed to consider the possibility he wasn’t straight; he didn’t know how to tell his mum she would in fact be getting one more potential son. He had a sinking suspicion the man he married would never be recognized as an official son though, so perhaps he was worrying for nothing. Without the addition of another boy to the pack she might just be able to accumulate enough women to finally have the majority for the first time in her life. 

Harry looked quite bashful at Mrs. Weasley’s affections towards him. It wasn’t like the boy wasn’t already practically adopted into the Weasley family. This just simply made it official. “Can’t wait,” Harry muttered with a grin.

“How many do you have RSVP’d?” his mum asked Ginny, taking the list she was holding from her. 

“Thirty-six,” Ginny answered, looking rather proud to have so many confirmed attendees with less than twenty-four hours passed since she sent out the official invitations. 

His mum perused the RSVP cards, pausing on one in particular with a deep frown on her face. Looking up at him with disappointment and confusion in her eyes he took a deep breath, knowing the confrontation was now unavoidable. “Percy, why don’t you have a plus one marked?” his mum held up the RSVP card under his nose. 

“No one to go with,” he shrugged.

“Nonsense,” his mum tutted, marking ‘plus-one’ on his card. “That makes thirty-seven. You have four months to find some nice girl to bring along to the wedding.”

“Are Remus and Sirius coming tonight with Teddy?” he asked to get the topic of conversation off of him.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “They are having a date night, so his Grandma Andromeda is babysitting him.”

He nodded his head, not really caring if they were here tonight or not. Of course, he cared about Remus and Sirius, and he liked Teddy well enough, even if he was slightly overwhelmed by the toddler’s boundless energy. Even after all of these years he never really understood what prompted Remus and Sirius to pursue surrogacy with a war practically on their doorstep. He certainly didn’t quite understand why Tonks had been the surrogate when she was a valuable Order member. He also knew when to keep his mouth shut and his questions to himself, so he never voiced his concerns out loud. 

He had to admit that Teddy had been a source of light amidst so much death and destruction in the months and years following the war. His own family had not come out unscathed though thankfully he managed to narrowly avoid any of his immediate family being murdered. His dad had been attacked in the year after he abandoned his family and nearly died, his older brother Bill had been maimed by Fenrir Greyback, George would never get his ear back, and they nearly lost Fred during the final battle. He sat by Fred’s hospital bed for weeks following the battle while his family reluctantly tolerated his presence. While they might not have buried anyone, that didn’t mean they escaped the war without any wounds. 

At times it seemed it was the invisible ones which lay underneath the surface of their emotions which caused the most lasting damage. 

“Dinner!” his mum called, pulling him out of his thoughts. Sitting at the kitchen table with his family he noticed Hermione had moved down the table away from Fred who was looking quite put out. If he and his younger brother were closer, he would give him some friendly advice to quit trying so hard. The harder he pursued Hermione the more she would pull away from his affections.

The two of them worked together at the Ministry in different departments, they often met for lunch, and he had gotten to know his youngest brother’s friend quite well over the past few years. They were quite similar in personality, he found he could tell her things he couldn’t divulge to his family members. She was the only one to ask the question about his sexuality, he thought about telling her but chickened out at the last minute. He knew she had her doubts though because she always used gender neutral terms when they discussed topics such as their dismal love lives.  

“Fleur,” his mum said, sitting down at the table though she was staring straight at him. “Don’t you know any nice girls for Percy? He needs a date for his little sister’s wedding.”

“I can check with some friends at work,” Fleur replied in her thick French accent. “Perhaps there is an old schoolmate who is still single. I will write some letters.”

He groaned, feeling Hermione give him a sympathetic pat on the back. “I can get my own date mum,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Obviously you can’t,” his mum chided. “Arthur, did you know your son is intending on not bringing a plus-one to his own sister’s wedding? Can you believe that? All of your siblings will have dates and I, for one, am hoping this wedding starts to put ideas into Charlie’s head. He and that lovely Tonks girl have been flirting and long-distance dating for years now. About time he made it official. I am hoping this will also mean my son moves back to England so he can join in on these lovely family dinners as well.”

He also wished Charlie was here, but only because it would be someone to commiserate with later on in the evening. They would sneak into the back garden after dinner and have a good laugh over the fact their mum actually thought he and Tonks were in a relationship. 

His mum never zeroed in on the others like this. Just him. Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile which he couldn’t return, not while his family was discussing his pathetic lack of a love life right in front of him. 

“Molly,” his dad gave his mum an affectionate look. “So far Percy hasn’t really jived with any of the girls that you have set him up with. Perhaps you should just let your son find his own plus-one.”

His mum truly looked scandalized by her husband's suggestion. As if being alone at a wedding was the worst possible fate which could possibly befall him, bringing further shame to the Weasley name. “He wasn’t going to bring one in the first place!” she whispered in a hushed tone, glancing between her husband and her third eldest son. 

“Well, he is now. You marked it on his card. He has four whole months, he will find a lovely girl who will make a fabulous addition to our Weasley clan,” his dad nodded at him as if that settled it. 

“What’s your type?” asked Ginny with genuine interest. “You never talk about any girls you fancy. Knowing what you like will make it easier if we happen to know someone you might actually be interested in.”

He couldn’t tell them his type. At one point it was someone who was tall, broad shouldered, slightly curly brown hair, and warm brown eyes with flecks of gold in them. However, nothing ever came of that brief little infatuation. He had certainly made sure of it with his usual self-sabotaging methods. Now he avoided any similar descriptions like the plague. 

All of his romantic encounters in the past few years had been one-night stands, not that he would ever tell his mother this little tidbit. Always at the other person’s flat so they never knew where he lived, lessening the chance they would come sniffing around hoping for a real relationship. He wasn’t proud of this fact; it did get him what he wanted in the short term though. A little human contact and a welcome distraction from his mess of a life. 

Without looking up he knew the entire table was staring at him. He could feel their eyes boring into him, preparing to judge him for who he found attractive. Knowing the twins would have giant grins on their faces, jokes at the ready. Disdain and judgement disguised as humor. Their words were often like arrows to his chest, each shot ripping him apart from the inside out. Leaving gaping wounds which never quite healed properly. 

He just shrugged his shoulders, not looking up from his plate. Chancing a quick glance at Hermione he silently pleaded with his eyes for her to save him from this torture. 

“This is a lovely roast Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione desperately tried to change the subject. “Did you use something new this evening?”

His mum just gave Hermione a confused look shaking her head. In the entire time he'd known his mum she never deviated from her set recipes handed down to her from her own mother. That is all he heard growing up, how she couldn't wait for her sons to get married so she pass the family recipes onto their new wives. She never mentioned what would happen if there was one more husband than originally planned. 

“Very helpful,” Ginny scoffed with an eye roll, completely ignoring Hermione’s attempt to divert the conversation. “Man of few words I see.” 

“There was Penelope Clearwater!” George exclaimed as if remembering a vital piece of information which held the key to solving the puzzle that was Percy Weasley. 

“Who?” Ron asked through a mouthful of potatoes. When his girlfriend wasn’t present at meals the boy’s table manners were atrocious. He wanted to tell his youngest brother to chew with his mouth closed but he didn’t think he could speak right now, plus he didn’t want anything about his inability to loosen up to become the new topic of conversation. 

“Honestly Ron,” Harry shook his head. “Remember, Penelope was in Ravenclaw and was Percy’s girlfriend for his last few years of school.”

“Only girlfriend in his entire lifetime,” Fred grinned wickedly. 

“Good job George!,” Ginny smiled. “So, mum when you are looking the girl needs to be blond, wears glasses, smart, bookish, and just a little bit nerdy.”

His mum looked elated at this news. “Excellent! You know Percy, you could have just told me that the women I was choosing for you weren’t your type. Honestly, learn to speak up for yourself, why don’t you?”

He just shrugged again feeling as though the walls of the kitchen were closing in on him. They would never understand. There was no way on this earth they were going to understand the fact he didn’t like women. 

“Are you excited about being the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” he asked Harry, hoping to officially shift the focus of everyone’s attention off of him.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned. “Neville is already the Herbology professor so I will have one friendly face there. I spoke with McGonagall, and she understands that I will have a wife, so we worked out a plan. When Ginny is away on tour I will simply stay at Hogwarts and when she is home I will floo to our flat at the end of the day.”

“Sounds perfect,” Ginny beamed at him. “Besides I won’t worry as much about you bumbling around in that flat all by yourself.”

Harry snorted at her apparent concern for his ability to fend for himself. “I am a grown man and the savior of the wizarding world if you remember.”

“Yes,” his sister rolled her eyes. “A grown man who would have about as many take away containers in his fridge as Percy does. I know you, Harry Potter. Without me you would not cook yourself a balanced meal.”

The two of them bickered good naturedly. He ignored them, choosing to continue sitting there at the kitchen table feeling sorry for himself while picking at his dinner which had peas in it even though his mum knew he didn’t like peas. He really should learn to cook for himself, he had just never seen the point. He could make sandwiches and soup, plus there was always take away. Personally, he preferred that to anything else. 

He noticed the rest of his family were also watching his sister and her fiance bicker with small smiles on their faces. His mum looked over at him, inclining her head towards the two of them, clearly suggesting he needed to follow in their footsteps. The sooner the better in her opinion.  

Normally he would get upset and spend the rest of the night overthinking his mum’s reaction to him finally announcing he was gay. Tonight though, he had a different thought.

A truly wicked thought.

Perhaps what his family needed was to be stunned into silence for what might be the first time in their lives. 

It was about time he came out of the metaphorical closet and stopped worrying so much about what his family thought of him. They were never going to like him that much so what did it really matter if they approved of his sexuality? Once the black sheep, always the black sheep he supposed. At least he could be the black sheep with a smoking hot boy on his arm. 

He knew without a doubt that he needed a permadate as Charlie suggested to him. He couldn’t sit through four months of this on a weekly basis. 

Just needed to find one who was willing to put up with his family and who he wouldn’t mind being stuck sitting next to for the foreseeable future.

Easier said than done. He would for sure be starting the search first thing tomorrow morning. 

Chapter Text

“We small talk, work and the weather. Your guard is up and I know why. Because the last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind. You gave me roses and I left them there to die. So this is me swallowing my pride. Standing in front of you saying, I’m sorry for that night.” Taylor Swift- Back to December

In true Percy fashion when he got back to his flat on Sunday night he sat down at his coffee table (which often doubled as a dining table) to make a list of requirements for what he would need in a permadate. He figured this was the easiest way to ensure the person he chose would be a suitable match.

1) Must be from the wizarding world

2) Successful

3) Intelligent

4) Friendly with his family

5) He can stand to be around them for more than a few minutes

6) Good looking

The first item on the list was perhaps the most important followed closely by number three. He tried the excuse of having a date with a muggle girl once to get out of Sunday dinner, his mum quickly informed him that wasn’t a valid reason to not attend a family matter. If it had been he would have been dating muggles exclusively, as it stood he would need a wizard to avoid life becoming more complicated than it already was. All of the functions he would need a date for would be tied in some way to the wizarding world; he vowed to not be stuck sitting next to some idiot for hours at a time who couldn't hold an intelligent and stimulating conversation. 

The rest of the qualities on the list were more of would be nice to have than true requirements. Finding someone who checked all of those boxes would be preferable however, given his current situation he wasn’t in a position to turn someone away as long as they met the two key requirements.  

He spent all of Monday looking for any man at the Ministry who wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and might potentially be gay. It didn’t take long for him to abandon the search as it ended up being a fruitless effort. There was also the very distinct possibility that several men at the Ministry thought he was weird since he spent far too long glancing out of the side of his eye trying to inspect their left hand. On more than one occasion he had been forced to awkwardly compliment their tie and inquire about where they got it to explain why they kept catching him studying them. The whole thing just felt weird and uncomfortable, in hindsight not the best method for finding himself a date.

Resorting, in a fit of utter desperation, to asking the women in his department by making up a good friend who had just gone through a bad breakup. Turns out they knew no gay men, they were very interested in his dating life however. All of them knew several nice young ladies if he was still in need of a date to the upcoming Ministry function on Friday night.   

He politely declined their offers. The interactions left him wondering where all of the eligible gay men in London were hiding?

What really sent his search into overdrive was the unexpected visit from his overbearing mother on Tuesday morning when she popped by for a quick chat as she called it. Dropping the bomb that she was going to be writing letters to her friends asking if they had any eligible daughters, granddaughters, or nieces for him. All before he finished his first cup of coffee. 

That particular conversation shook him to his very core. His mum was so desperate to see him in a relationship she resorted to owling every woman she had ever known in hopes someone would have an available girl for him. 

He supposed confronting the root issue of telling his family he was gay would at least temporarily halt the search for a girlfriend for him. However, he figured he could afford to put off the whole "coming out" conversation for a few more days or perhaps he could just ignore it all together. 

He hadn’t quite decided yet.  

Concentrating at work had been next to impossible. He was what most considered a dedicated employee; always keeping to himself and staying heads down in his work so no one in his department noticed when he was unusually quiet.

Letting his mother get to him like this wasn’t going to help his career aspirations.

Over the past few days he had to read through things three or four times to catch his careless errors before he handed the reports in to the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. This attention to detail was accentuated by the rumors flying around regarding the possibility of the current department head announcing his retirement soon, which meant someone would be receiving a huge promotion.

He hoped that someone would be him. His reports needed to be pristine and error free, perfection was the only course of action, and he would accept nothing less of himself.

Perhaps this is what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He had always strived for perfection, ever since he was a small child. While his siblings were busy causing mischief and mayhem he was practicing his letters until they exactly matched the workbook his mother was teaching them from. Once he learned to read, he was constantly reaching for books far beyond his current level. Persevering through the difficult words and themes until he could read each page perfectly.

Before he ever began Hogwarts, he read his older brothers’ textbooks so he could make sure that going into his first day of school he was leaps and bounds ahead of his other classmates. He knew he wanted to be top of his class, take twelve OWLS, be a Prefect, and eventually Head Boy. All of which he achieved, but as he soon learned perfection came at a price. 

One he had gladly paid at the time for the shot to be the best. To be perfect. 

The question now was, would he pay the price to be chosen as the head of his current department? 

He didn’t know how people did it, he never understood how someone could have it all. His siblings had been able to figure it out so why couldn’t he? They somehow managed to have both a thriving career as well as a full and satisfying social life. Complete with a relationship with someone hey loved or, in Charlie’s case, being completely comfortable and confident in their knowledge they would never have a romantic partner.  

The concept of a harmonious balance between the two had always been difficult for him to grasp. He never understood how you could have both. Up until this point it had been one or the other. He hadn’t publicly come out as gay because he had been afraid the undercurrents of homophobia still present in the Ministry of Magic would ruin his career.

So, while he did occasionally date everything was kept surface level and hidden in the anonymity of the muggle world. What he had learned was eventually people get tired of hiding the fact they were dating him and forced him to choose. His career or them. 

His career and aspirations for the future always won, as far as he concerned there wasn't a choice.

This was how he found himself alone after work on a Tuesday night in a dingy local pub not far from his flat sipping the last dregs of his vodka and tonic. He should be in a pub in the wizarding world scouring the room to find himself a date but he just couldn’t handle the whispers tonight so he chose the anonymity of the muggle world.

He motioned for the bartender who approached him with a sultry look in his eyes. There was no denying the man was handsome and he wouldn’t mind taking him home with him tonight. Nothing serious would ever come of it but at least he would have one night of some human contact. “I’ll have another,” he held up his empty glass. 

The barman’s gaze lingered on him before taking the glass from his hand with a wink and a sexy smile. Their fingers brushed briefly causing his skin to buzz, he made a promise to himself to get the man’s name at least. Shifting on the padded seat to make himself more comfortable he put his elbows on the bar. Groaning, he put his head in his hands as his shoulders hunched, resigning himself to a night of drinking to stop his mind from racing. 

“Thanks,” he smiled as the barman brought him a fresh drink. “Actually, come to think of it, could you get me another? That way I don’t have to bother you for a while.”

The cute barman just chuckled, “you aren’t bothering me red,” he said in a husky voice. With another wink he sauntered to the other end of the bar, but not without more than one sly look over his shoulder. 

He was nursing his strong drink when a man walked through the door. He had broad shoulders, a handsome face with a well-defined jawline, and he could tell through his shirt the man had some incredible abs. While he'd never met this person before, he reminded him of someone from his past, a familiar face swam before his mind. He blinked a few times to erase the image, feeling his cheeks burn as the stranger headed his way. 

“Anyone sitting here?” the man gestured to the empty bar stool next to him. 

Shaking his head just as the barman was placing his second drink in front to him. “Planning on getting absolutely pissed tonight?” the man next to him chuckled, ordering himself the house beer. 

He turned to get a better look at this person and realized his sandy blond hair was just a little too straight for his liking, the eye color was all wrong as well. They were too dark, there should be flecks of gold in them and a manic glint whenever their eyes met across a table or a room. 

He wasn’t even sure why he was thinking this, it had to be because the physique was the same coupled with the fact he had a copy of today’s Daily Prophet tucked into his pocket. Oliver’s promotion to captain made front page news since he was one of the youngest players on the team to ever hold the coveted title. He had been putting off reading the full article all day for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. 

The sudden appearance of Oliver’s name and picture in his life had to be the reason why he was sitting here comparing a stranger to his former best mate. That was the only reasonable explanation. 

“Yeah,” he smiled in a way he hoped was enticing. “Willing to risk the hangover.”

The man leaning slightly forward, dropping his voice ever so slightly. “Do you get bad hangovers?”

“Yes,” he commiserated. Technically his hangovers could be cured with a potion, but more than likely this man was muggle. Couldn’t exactly let him in on that secret right now. “They are terrible.”

“I can relate to that,” the man grinned. “Are you here with anyone?”

He shook his head taking a long sip of his drink. He knew where this interaction was heading, currently trying to decide if this man was worth taking back to his flat or if he would be going home alone. “What about you?”

“Newly single,” the man raised his glass. “My name is Patrick by the way.”

“Percy,” he risked using his real name, using fake names was a habit left over from the war where it had been dangerous to reveal he was a Weasley to total strangers. Holding out his hand to Patrick for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

The two of them talked for the next hour or so. Well, Patrick talked. He halfway listened to the man drone on about himself as he drank one vodka tonic after another. As it turned out, the handsome stranger sitting next to him loved to talk about what he liked to do and everything he managed to achieve in his thirty years. Which honestly wasn’t much from what he caught of the one-sided conversation. 

Patrick did pay for his bar tab because according to the man he was very successful. Something which had been mentioned several times over the course of their brief but mind-numbingly boring conversation. He hadn’t meant to drink quite this much so he was actually grateful to the man, normally he wouldn’t let someone pay for him but tonight he figured it was warranted. However, on more than once occasion he feared he was going to fall off his barstool if he was forced to listen to Patrick for one more minute. 

Excusing himself to the bathroom he was pleased to find it was single occupancy, making disapparating a lot easier. It was always awkward sit in a stall while waiting impatient for an empty bathroom, so the muggles didn’t hear the sharp crack when he disappeared from sight. He honestly didn’t care if Patrick wondered where he wandered off to or if he wouldn’t even miss him at all. 

Back at his flat he found two letters waiting for him on the kitchen table. One was from his mother, reading her words forced him to sit down to keep his knees from giving out. She had received a few responses from the letters she had sent a few days ago, even though he specifically instructed her not to do anything of the sort. Apparently, his mother was going to be going through the girls and narrowing it down for him so he could choose the one he liked the best. 

The letter also hinted there would be quite a few Weasley family events he would be expected to bring a date to in the next year. He grimaced at his mother’s words. Not sure if he was more upset about the fact she was essentially choosing a partner for him or the implication she would no longer be accepting his presence without someone firmly attached to his side. 

The other letter was from George, he planned to propose to Angelina soon and he wanted to celebrate with an engagement party. There was no doubt she wouldn’t say yes to him, so he felt comfortable having everyone at the Burrow for a surprise celebration. She returned from her team’s tour in Norway this weekend and next weekend was Teddy’s birthday party. Which meant that in a little over two weeks he would officially have a new potential sister-in-law. 

Even George mentioned his relationship status. Offering to have Angelina set him up with one of her single female teammates if he was interested. He wasn’t, though he did briefly toy with the idea of writing his brother back and asking if Angie had any single male friends in need of a new boyfriend. It would be worth the potential fallout to see George completely speechless for once. 

Groaning, he put his head in his hands and seriously considered pulling a Bill and Charlie. He could move to another country and never come home except for Christmas. Heck half the time the two of them hadn’t even bothered to come home then. 

He could do that. 

It wasn’t like he couldn’t get a transfer with the Ministry. Tomorrow morning he would begin looking into the possibility of skipping town if his current half-formed plan didn’t pan out. 

What he needed was a permadate and he knew just the person he needed to talk to. 

He stood before the two-story row house in West London. It was starting to spit rain making the already chilly London night more uncomfortable. The soft glow of the streetlamps illuminating the wooden front door where his hand was raised, poised to knock. 

Suddenly he could no longer follow through with his alcohol induced plan which tomorrow he would probably realize was sort of stress induced mental breakdown. Temporary insanity was the only reasonable explanation for why he was standing here frozen with indecision. 

The second wizarding war had ruined a lot of things for him. Besides his relationship with his immediate family the next most important thing had been his friendship with Oliver. The two of them had been practically inseparable in school. 

They met on the Hogwarts Express, within five minutes Oliver was referring to him as his best mate. This was only made worse when they were the only two boys in their year sorted into Gryffindor and found out they would be sharing a dorm. Oliver had been delighted as he took it to mean that he had made the correct decision in selecting his best mate for the next seven years, he on the other hand was a little more hesitant to call the overeager boy anything close to a friend. The first few weeks had been difficult, they had almost no shared interests and Oliver was quite chatty. However, with no one else to talk to at night he soon discovered they had more in common than he initially thought.

They just fit together, even though their personalities were vastly different. It just somehow worked. Oliver was sweet and easy to get along with, he quickly became his favorite person in the entire world that first year at Hogwarts. The former Gryffindor Quidditch captain had been one of only two people who knew the real Percy Weasley. They looked out for each other during their time at school, he made sure Oliver ate when there was a big match coming up and Oliver made sure he didn’t run himself into the ground around exam time. 

He ruined everything in one night. Taken over eight years of friendship and just thrown it all away because he let his pride and fear stand in the way. One more wrong choice he had spent the past few years regretting and trying to forgive himself for making. However, this was the one mistake he would never be able to let himself forget, the one person whom he didn’t deserve forgiveness from. 

His frenzied pacing on the stoop paused briefly to consider the options. He could knock on the door, or he could run away like he always did. Right now, he was leaning towards running. 

Sitting at his kitchen table he had been so sure of this plan. Oliver checked all of the boxes for what he wanted in a permadate. He was a wizard, insanely successful, bloody brilliant, got along well with his family already, he could certainly talk to the boy (it would be nothing like the past two hours he had just endured with Patrick), and there was no denying the man was good looking. However, there was the whole showing up out of the blue after several years of silence to contend with. The one crucial part he had not fully thought through when he hatched this little scheme.

This was a terrible idea. He couldn’t ask this of Oliver. The whole thing was a huge mistake, and he should go home and forget this night ever happened. Sleep off the hangover already setting in and maybe look into some of that muggle therapy Penny was always telling him about. 

Finally coming to the final decision to disapparate away the street was suddenly flooded with additional light. Squeezing his eyes shut he briefly considered still trying to make a run for it, more than likely Oliver wouldn’t follow him. He knew running was a fool's game as there was no way Oliver didn't recognize the person currently frozen on the doorstep, better to just get this out of the way than put off their now inevitable conversation.

Turning around slowly, staring in stunned silence at Oliver Wood who looked highly confused as to why he of all people was standing outside of his door this late at night. Confusion soon turned to concern as Oliver appeared to mentally sort through all of the reasons which could have prompted this unexpected reunion. 

He opened his mouth to explain his sudden late-night appearance and why he hadn’t knocked. Struggling to find the words to make this situation less awkward his mouth opened and closed with no sound escaping. Certain he looked positively dreadful standing here like a raving lunatic. His hair was in disarray where he had been running his hands through it, clothes wrinkled, smelling of vodka where he had spilled some on himself at the pub, and probably pale and sickly if the queasy feeling in his stomach was any indication. 

“Hello,” he finally managed. 

“Hello?” Oliver’s voice was exactly as he remembered it, sending a flood of warmth and familiarity coursing through him. “Is something wrong with the twins or Harry?”

“No, nothing is wrong per se,” he winced. He shouldn’t have stood there for so long saying nothing. Of course Oliver would potentially think something bad had happened to either the twins or Harry. Oliver’s face relaxed a little, there wasn’t anger in his facial features or body language, just tentative curiosity. He wasn’t sure if the lack of an emergency was going to make this conversation easier or harder. “May I come in?”

Oliver paused to think for a minute, his hand still resting on the doorknob. He was probably making a list of the pros and cons of letting his former best mate into his house. “I suppose-”

Setting the bag of rubbish on the stoop for later he stepped aside to let him in.

Walking into the row house he had no doubt professional Quidditch players made very good money. He knew how expensive this area of town was and while the house wasn’t ostentatious the furniture wasn’t exactly whatever was cheapest at the secondhand store. He didn’t know exact numbers, but he had a fairly good idea going off what Ginny told him about base salaries, bonuses, and sponsorships. Given that Oliver was the most popular player on the Puddlemere United team he assumed the sponsors were practically lining up, add in the recent promotion and he would put the gross salary close to one million if not more. 

“Would you like some tea?” Oliver asked, standing tensely near the doorway as he watched him survey the sitting room and entryway. 

“Not if you don’t already have some made,” he said. The last thing he needed was to not only barge back into the man’s life tonight but also demand his unwilling host make him a hot cuppa tea.

“Not a problem,” Oliver gestured to the couch. “Won’t take me long. Make yourself at home. I have a muggle television if you would like to watch something while I fix us a pot of tea.”

With Oliver quickly disappearing into the kitchen without another word he had no choice but to take a seat on the leather couch. He was impressed at how well decorated the home was. He would have to ask if Angelina had a hand in this, she'd been offering for almost a year now to redo his place, but he had no interest in changing anything. He liked the mismatched look of his flat which featured piles of books stacked into every corner. Angelina called it cluttered; he called it eclectic. 

Oliver’s place was a variation of dark blues, grays, and creams. He remembered the stories Ginny and Angelina regaled him with about the decorating styles of some Quidditch players. He was glad Oliver hadn’t let the money go to his head and filled his house with ridiculous items showing off how wealthy he was. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep a straight face if he walked in to find a life size glass tiger placed under a crystal chandelier, which apparently one of Angelina’s teammates actually does own and is quite proud of. 

By this point Oliver had come back in with a tray holding the tea as well as a bottle of sober-up potion and some light snacks. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” he said, downing the bottle of sober-up before fixing himself a cup of tea. He did feel incredibly guilty for barging in on him like this and taking advantage of his kindness. It was after 10 pm and he was sure Oliver probably had practice in the morning. 

“No trouble at all,” Oliver insisted with a shrug, taking a sip of his tea and gesturing to the now empty bottle of potion. “Thought you might need it.”

He could feel his ears burning at the statement. “Is it that obvious?”

Oliver just shrugged his shoulders, not replying to his question for a minute. “It’s late and you have been drinking. I have confiscated enough owls from my teammates over the years to know how this goes. Guess I am just thankful you came here in person instead of sending me a howler.”

“I have a lot of questions, the two main ones being how often do you have to kidnap people’s owls and why would I be sending you a howler?”

“The answer to your owl question is a lot more often than you would think. One of the downsides to dating a Quidditch player is that we tend to be on the road quite a bit. Leads to more than a few lover’s spats. There are anti-apparition charms placed around the hotels we stay at but nothing stops them from sending strongly worded letters when they are drunk. The answer to the second question is because I figured you were mad at me. You haven’t spoken to me since- well, really since that one night. I don’t count the few times we greeted each other at different functions.”

He didn’t know what to say in answer to the explanation. Of course he wasn’t mad, Oliver had done nothing wrong. “It’s you who should be mad at me,” he said quietly. “I shouldn't have waited this long. I just got bogged down with other stuff you know.”

Oliver slowly nodded his head. “The twins and Harry filled me in. Charlie does as well when he remembers to write me back and when we see each other a few times a year.” 

“I’m not mad,” he reiterated his point wanting to let Oliver know his years of silence were not in any way related to something he had or had not done. It was a personal issue, a combination of constantly overthinking things and being stuck in his own head. 

Oliver gave him a small smile, pushing the plate of snacks towards him. “You’ve said that already. What brought on the surprise visit then if you didn’t want to scream at me?”

He just stared at the person sitting across from him for a minute, unable to form a coherent thought. There was such a thing as being too nice. No one else he knew would make someone tea and snacks, offering them a sober-up potion all while thinking they were about to be screamed at. Not that he would ever scream at Oliver, it would be like kicking a puppy. 

“I-,” he hesitated. “I have a question for you.”

Oliver refilled both their teacups, nodding at him to continue as he munched on a cracker topped with cheese.  

“Well, it all started when I met Charlie for lunch-” the words poured out of him as he found himself laying his heart bare to Oliver. The horrible Sunday dinners with his family, his mum’s insistence he find some nice girl, the fact that his entire family thought him incapable of finding someone for himself, and the lingering issues he still had with his siblings after the war. He even went into his problems at work which mainly consisted of the people in his department not remembering he existed and his stalled career. This upcoming Ministry function needed to go well for him. It was his last chance to really make an impression on the people who would be choosing his current department head’s replacement. He had to make sure his name was at the top of the list for potential candidates. 

Oliver didn’t really say anything, just sat and patiently listened as he complained about his life and his family. That was one thing he always liked about his former best mate; he was a fantastic listener when he wasn’t distracted by Quidditch. Giving his undivided attention and never making anyone feel bad about themselves for whatever secrets they were divulging to him. 

“So let me ensure I fully understand,” Oliver said slowly. “After all this time you show up outside my door to ask me to be your... permadate, as you called it, to functions so you won’t have to always show up alone and you can get your mum to quit trying to set you up with random girls. All of which was brought on because your older brother gave you the idea to just form an agreement with some random person you know and get along well with.”

“I shouldn’t have come,” he paled, standing up quickly to leave. “This was a mistake. I’m so sorry. I’ll just-”

“Percy,” Oliver sighed heavily. “Sit back down. I’m not angry at you. Just trying to get all the facts straight.”

He marveled at how nice and understanding Oliver was being to him tonight. While he was thankful Oliver hadn't denied him entry or screamed at him for his atrocious behavior these past years somehow that would almost be preferable. He didn't feel he deserved this amount of kindness. “It would be better if you were mad at me.”

Oliver shook his head at him, frowning down at his teacup. “If you think it would help you not feel so bad I could channel my ‘just lost a Quidditch game’ rage and stomp around this flat throwing a temper tantrum that will have the neighbors calling the muggle police.”

When Oliver looked up, he wore his signature grin on his face. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of having to talk Oliver off a ledge yet again. On one such occasion he had to pull him out of a shower fully clothed but they both vowed to never mention that particular incident again. “Perhaps later if we have time.”

“Just know the offer is on the table,” Oliver took a sip of tea, pausing for a minute to consider his words before continuing. “For the stomping about and for being your permadate.”

“Really?” he asked, completely surprised at Oliver’s agreement to this slightly insane plan of his. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Puddlemere has several functions throughout the year and it would be nice to have someone to go with. As a plus bringing you to my family functions will really piss off my parents and I LOVE that idea.”

He arched his eyebrows with a ‘you have to be kidding me’ look on his face. “You were named the most eligible bachelor in the league this past year and are one of the most famous players on the Puddlemere United team. You can’t tell me that you can’t find one person to go with.”

“It’s not that,” Oliver said quietly, squirming in his seat a little. “It’s that- it’s- sometimes people are a little too eager. They don't necessarily want to go with me. They just want to tell their friends that they managed to get a date with a famous Quidditch player or they use me to gain access to the other players who are willing to sleep with them. Then there is the whole using me for money issue as well. Makes it difficult to tell who is flirting with you because they like you or because they want something from you. It can be- lonely at times.”

It honestly never occurred to him that Oliver would be lonely. He knew how the women in his office talked about the professional Quidditch players but he just thought that was how people spoke about them in private. He hadn’t considered the possibility that some people might actually actively seek out a Quidditch player to fulfill some sort of personal fantasy or because they wanted someone to pay for everything. Oliver was a real person with real feelings, he couldn't help but feel just a little angry that someone would treat him as disposable. 

“I would never do that to you,” he thought about reaching out for Oliver’s hand but decided against it. “I won’t use you in that way.”

Oliver smiled a little bit at that statement. “I mean you could totally sleep with some cute guy- or girl that you meet at a function. Just maybe don’t flirt with them in front of me, ok?”

“I suppose that is fair enough,” he agreed with the reasonable request. “Especially if my family is at said function. That would cause some questions that I am not quite ready to answer. My mum would probably faint at the site.” 

“Your family have an issue with the whole gay thing?” Oliver asked curiously.

“Sort of,” he said tentatively. “I would rather not talk about it right now. 

Oliver just shrugged. “I understand. My mum thinks it was just a faze that I was going through and my dad doesn’t understand any of it. I don’t really visit them often but when I do they make sure to let me know which of the local village girls are available. If I really want to shock them into silence I just ask them if there are any recently divorced men or lonely sheep herders or farm hands that I could chat up.”

He stared at Oliver’s wicked grin, his ability to joke about the issue was impressive. He wished that he could be so confident in his sexuality and stand up to his own parents like that. Perhaps he could ask for some lessons once they moved past the awkwardness of having to get to know each other again. “My mum would faint if I ever said anything like that.”

“Well,” Oliver smirked. “If she is unconscious then she can’t drive you bat shit crazy.”

“We will call that plan B,” he looked at his watch, frowning at the time. “Well, I have taken up enough of your evening. Thank you for the tea and snacks.”

Oliver didn’t make any moves to get up off the couch. “What time is the Ministry function on Friday?”

“7 pm. You don’t have to go. I will give you a break on this one since it is such short notice.”

“No,” Oliver stubbornly shook his head. “I am free and I want to go. We will call it an audition of sorts. They don’t tell you this during recruitment but a large portion of your job as a player is schmoozing donors and other important people. You said this event was important so I will help you out. Get me a list of the key people and I will have a peak at the donor lists for the league. Knowing which team they support will be what ensures your success.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Quidditch,” Oliver sighed, giving him a pitying glance as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All the big wigs at the Ministry give a lot of money to the Quidditch league. I need to know what team they support. If they already have season tickets or a box then I will need to get some VIP passes or something.”

“Did not know that,” he admitted feeling slightly foolish. Of course all of the high up Ministry officials would donate money to Quidditch. He honestly didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of that before. He could have been utilizing Ginny’s position on the Holyhead Harpies far more than he had been over the past few years. 

“Now you do,” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We should get together tomorrow night; I can cook dinner. You know, so you can give me the list and we can get our story straight.”

He raised his eyebrows at Oliver. “You could just follow my lead at the Ministry function.”

“That’s all well and good but what happens if I lose you in the crowd and get cornered by some important official who asks me a simple question regarding our situation. What to do then? Shall I look at them and say ‘oh sorry got to find my date. Too many bludgers to the head can’t see to remember anything. He is around here somewhere, don’t quite recall his name though. Got red hair and freckles, I know that he is one of the Weasley siblings. Care to help me look for him?’”

He stared at a pleased Oliver who was grinning broadly at him. Folding his arms he gave him his best stern gaze. “You haven’t changed a bit you know that? Can’t give a simple answer. Got to infuse everything with a healthy dose of smartarse.”

“You haven’t changed either Percy,” Oliver shrugged. “Not that you being the same is a bad thing mind you. You were always my favorite Weasley.”

He felt himself blush at that comment, unsure of what to do with it and not caring to unpack its meaning right now. “I get your point. It would be mutually beneficial to have us both be on the same page. Avoid any potential slip-ups that would cause people to question the validity of our agreement.”

“So- are you saying that I am right?” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he sniffed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“I’m right,” Oliver decided with a nod, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. “Merlin, I love it when I’m right.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, standing up to stretch. “It only happens once a year or so. I usually get off work at six so I can come over after. I will make you a list of people who I know will be in attendance. It is just my department plus a few people from the office of the Minister for Magic so there shouldn’t be a super long list.”

Oliver stood up as well to show him to the door. “See you tomorrow night. I will be sure to put a lot of peas in whatever I make. I know how much you enjoy them.”

“Do that and I will start a fight,” he grinned, holding out a hand to shake Oliver’s. “See you tomorrow night.”

With a sharp crack he disapparated back to his own tiny flat. 

He found that he was actually looking forward to meeting Oliver after work. His siblings and their significant others were always raving about what a wonderful cook Oliver was. He enjoyed a few of his dishes during that year after they graduated from Hogwarts. Most of the time though they ordered take-away when they would meet up after work. He was a terrible cook and Oliver was often exhausted from practices. Being a professional player was a lot more demanding than playing for Gryffindor and it had taken some adjusting to get used to the new training schedule. 

Standing outside the now familiar door he felt a lot less nervous than he had last night. Giving a few quick knocks he waited until he heard Oliver tell him to come in. The whole house smelled lovely and Oliver was standing at the stove cooking away with an ease that he would never have been able to master in a million years. 

“Sorry,” Oliver apologized, not looking up from the pot that he was stirring. “Practice ran a little long. I meant to have this all finished up.”

He rolled his eyes at Oliver, not that he could see it. “It’s fine. Better than the cold Chinese food that was my original plan for dinner.”

Oliver turned around with a scandalized look on his face. “At least heat it up for Merlin’s sake! No wonder you are so skinny. Probably malnourished.”

“There are vegetables in it!” he adamantly defended his choice of dinner. 

Oliver turned back around to stir his pot with pursed lips. “Probably enough salt to rival the dead sea as well.” 

“All right Mr. 5 star chef,” he leaned against the counter with his arms folded. “What are you cooking for dinner?”

“A nice fresh garden salad for starters then honey glazed salmon, roasted brussel sprouts and asparagus in balsamic, and rice pilaf,” Oliver looked quite pleased with himself as he rattled off the menu for the evening.

He didn’t say anything in response to that. It did sound delicious and certainly better than anything he had in a while. All of his food at home consisted of take-away and his mum liked to cook heavy dishes that left you feeling uncomfortably full. Not that he was going to tell Oliver any of that. The man was currently grinning like a fool already and he wasn’t going to give him any more ammunition to believe that his cooking was superior. 

Dinner ended up being just as delicious as it smelled. In fact it was so delicious that he amended his earlier conviction to not say anything complimentary. The fact that he had two helpings of everything was probably the first clue but he made sure to let Oliver know just how incredible the meal was. His constant praise made Oliver blush in an endearing way. While his host had always been a good cook, over the past few years he learned a few new tricks that really elevated his overall skills in the kitchen.   

He was relaxing on the couch feeling pleasantly full and satisfied. 

“Um,” Oliver’s voice brought him out of his current food coma. “Maybe we should come up with some ground rules or something if this arrangement is going to work.”

“What did you have in mind?” he sat up, patting his very happy stomach. 

Oliver shifted on the couch cushion avoiding his gaze. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to take the whole fake dating thing too far. You know like kissing or stuff-”

“I agree. It would-” he paused to find the right words that wouldn’t potentially hurt Oliver’s feelings. “Muddy the waters as they say. Let’s just keep it simple. We are each other’s dates and that is it. I am ok with dancing with you if the occasion calls for it but other than that I am fully on board with not taking things too far.”

He saw Oliver's shoulders visibly relax, his tight expression morphing into his normal easy smile. “Excellent, we shall be strictly platonic permadates. Any other ground rules that you wanted to bring up?”

Thinking for a moment he nodded his head. “I think that we should try and give each other ample warning for any impending functions. I know that you will have times when you are touring so it wouldn’t be fair for me to continually spring things on you,” gesturing to the piece of parchment in Oliver’s hands that held a long list of names to show what he meant.

“Good point,” Oliver agreed. “Say about a week if possible. Obviously there may be times when we have less warning but the big ones we will probably know about in advance. We should also probably refrain from leaving halfway through a function with someone that we didn’t come there with.”

He positioned himself so that he was fully facing Oliver so that he would know how concerned he was about him. “What kind of dates have you had?”

Oliver was grinning, though he could see a hint of sadness in his eyes that made his heart ache. “We would be here all night if we got on that topic.”

“Ok. Leave no permadate behind. Neither of us leaves without the other person,” he nodded his head in solidarity with his comrade. 

“Agreed,” Oliver said. “We can disapparate with whoever we want but disappearing for hours or just abandoning each other in the middle of a function is off the table.”

He wanted to further unpack that last statement but decided to just save the discussion for later. Oliver told him that he really didn't want to talk about the subject and he didn't want to push too far tonight and risk upsetting him. That would not bode well for the tone of their somewhat renewed friendship. 

“I um- know that my mum can be difficult to get along with at times,” he began awkwardly. “So just know that this isn’t a binding agreement. You can say that you are done at any time.”

“Fair enough,” Oliver agreed. “Same goes for you, but the rule of not abandoning your permadate applies. You must wait until after said function is done to break the agreement.”

He found that he was smiling wider than he had in years, “I knew I picked you for a reason.”

“I’m a real keeper,” Oliver chuckled warmly to himself, obviously pleased with his bad pun. 

“Haven’t changed a bit,” he muttered with an eye roll. 

The two of them were going over the back story so they wouldn’t accidentally contradict each other. They briefly thought about having two cover stories, one that was just mates for the Ministry and platonic fake dating for the Weasley family. That idea was quickly abandoned, too much overlap in the people involved and it increased the likelihood that Mrs. Weasley would find out her son was trying to dupe her. Not something that either of them really cared to experience. 

They agreed that it wasn’t likely you would take someone to a Ministry function as a first date together, which meant that they needed something a little bit better than him showing up on Oliver’s doorstep the other night drunk. 

“We should say that we have been seeing each other for two months,” he made a quick note on the piece of parchment. 

“Make it three,” Oliver suggested, scanning the piece of parchment he was reading. “Most Quidditch players wait a minimum of three months to be seen at a public non-Quidditch function with someone that they are seeing. Cuts down on the Daily Prophet section labeling you as being a player.”

“Ok,” he conceded, amending his note. “Three months. We saw each other at a restaurant and got to talking. I owled you the next day to invite you for coffee after work. As we were catching up over coffee we both realized how much we missed each other and I suggested dinner-”

“Wait just one minute!” Oliver sat up on the couch, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you the one initiating everything?”

“Because-” he shrugged, hugging the parchment closer to him. “I am the one writing things down and it isn’t even a real story. Besides, I just feel that I would be the one to initiate the interactions and move the relationship forward.”

Oliver snorted at that statement, chucking a pillow at his head. “What am I doing during all of this? You know besides just being the king of standing around and waiting for you to ‘make your next move.’”

“Probably being the king of making smart arse comments about everything! It isn’t real,” he reminded Oliver with a pointed look. “However, if it helps your fragile ego then you can be the one who asks me to dinner and initiates the first fake kiss.”

“My fragile ego thanks you,” Oliver grinned, lightly nudging his leg with his foot. “You have to be the one who brought me flowers though and picked me up for our big date. I like to be wooed.”

“I will be sure to tell people that I swept you off your feet with my romantic gestures,” he said dryly.

Oliver just continued to nudge him with his foot, raising one eyebrow. “And I will be sure to tell people that initially you just wanted me for my body but soon fell head over heels with my razor sharp wit and stimulating conversation.”

“I think we are getting off topic here,” he sighed, arching both eyebrows at the fool sitting across from him on the couch. He checked his notes. “How do we make this sound compelling enough to fool my mother?”

“Allow me,” Oliver supplied, clearing his throat as though he was about to make some important proclamation. “Our eyes met across a crowded room at the restaurant where we were both waiting for our take-away. Instantly recognizing each other I tentatively made my way towards you, each unsure if this was the right thing to do. It had been years since we last spoke but as the words seemed to easily spill from our lips it felt as if no time passed at all. I had a smile that melted you like butter on a freshly made croissant and you were like a breath of fresh air. We talked for an hour on a bench near the restaurant while eating our take-away. There was an undeniable spark between us, when I reached for your hand over dinner a few days later it was like a Crème Brulee torch. Been smitten ever since, but we were afraid of going public too soon. I have to worry about my image, the sponsorships aren’t given to people who are viewed as loose with their morals in the public eye. You were worried about your career, but I convinced you to quit overthinking things and just follow your heart.”

He gave Oliver the same look that he would give a three headed dog. “I think I want a new permadate. One who doesn’t have a flare towards the dramatics! You sound like one of those sappy muggle romantic movies right now.”

“Just trying to give the people what they want,” Oliver grumbled. “I bet those women in your department as well as your female family members would ooh and aww over that story. You have a compelling backstory and people will be more likely to believe the relationship is real. People like it when other people are happy. You want to be the new head of your department then you need to be seen as someone who is in a healthy and fulfilling relationship.”

He had to admit that Oliver wasn’t necessarily wrong. The Ministry did like those who were perceived as family people. Pretending to date Oliver would make him seem less stuffy to those in his department. “Just write it down,” he thrust the parchment and quill at Oliver who took it from him with an annoyed sigh. After a few minutes Oliver passed the parchment back to him which he quickly scanned nodding in approval. 

“Only edit,” he scratched out one particular part. “I am not referring to you as a Crème Brulee torch. My mum would never believe that.”

“Fine,” Oliver shot him an irritated glare. “Make it all boring, tell people that you have lukewarm fake feelings towards me. Break my fragile heart, cause me to run from the room sobbing. See if I care.”

“It isn’t real,” he reminded Oliver. “Now focus on the task at hand and quit being ridiculously overdramatic. We need this backstory to be airtight and you are NOT allowed to ab lib anything.”

Oliver rolled his eyes at him with a withering look over the parchment he was making notes on. Presumably Oliver knew some of the names as key donors, either that or he was drawing rude scribbles of his newly acquired fake date. Both options were plausible. 

“I am serious Oliver,” he hissed. “You are not allowed to get carried away, especially when we are around my family. My siblings might find you hilarious but I can assure you that my parents will not.  Especially my mother, she doesn't tend to have much of a sense of humor about things. Stick to the script.”

“You haven’t changed one bit,” Oliver grumbled before nodding his head in agreement with the plan.

He supposed that he could never really tell his family that he was gay, just show up to Sunday dinner one day with Oliver in tow. That wouldn’t be fair to Oliver though, he was going to have to walk into the Burrow and rip off the Band-Aid as the muggle expression put it. 

Standing outside his childhood home on Thursday evening he realized that whoever came up with that saying never had to tell his mother and father that they were gay and deal with the torrent of teasing from his numerous siblings. 

He wasn’t even sure what it was that kept holding him back from just telling his family. If he had to take a guess it was the potential for seeing their disappointment in him reflected in their eyes. Remembering the way that his family looked at him the night he fought with his father over his promotion at work brought back unpleasant memories. He'd been so excited to tell his parents that he was now the Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic. His father had been incredibly angry, shouting that this promotion wasn’t due to his ability but rather a pathetic ploy by the Ministry to keep tabs on the Weasleys. Only to be called naïve, stupid, too ambitious for his own good, oblivious. 

His parents begged him to quit the Ministry and swear his loyalty and support to Albus Dumbledore. Him not doing so had nothing to do with them or his feelings towards Harry, he simply didn’t trust Dumbledore. Things escalated quickly from there, ending in a screaming match between him and his dad. He walked out that night in a fit of anger and resentment at his family’s contempt towards his plan to one day become the Minister of Magic. 

That night he ended up at Oliver’s flat where his best mate convinced him to send his mother an owl letting her know that he was safe. Perhaps he would have only been gone from home for a night or so had it not been for the howlers from his siblings and father further admonishing him. He had been painted as the villain from the beginning. The family traitor. 

As it were, that silence lasted several years instead of the few days that he initially thought it would. He never received a single apology from any of his family members for what they said that night, how they treated him after he left, or for their attitude towards him after the war. Not that he really expected that. They never apologized to him for anything that they did or said.  

Taking a deep breath he opened the front door. The first thing that he noticed was the lack of noise, which in this instance was a very good thing. It meant that none of his siblings popped by for an after work visit. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not.

On one hand it meant that he wouldn’t have to run them out of the house so he could have a private conversation with his parents. On the other hand there were no witnesses for when his mum started screaming at him or disowned him altogether. 

I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay , he chanted to himself as he walked towards the kitchen. Hyping himself up to just say the two words that had struck fear into his heart for years now. 

“Hello dear,” his mum greeted him brightly, bustling around the kitchen. “Wasn’t expecting you today. Your brother Ron is coming over in an hour or so with that lovely muggle girl he has been dating. He finally got permission from the Ministry to tell her all about the Wizarding World. Isn't that exciting? I hear another set of wedding bells in our near future. That will make four of my seven children happily settled into relationships and ready to start families.”

I’m so screwed, he thought. Sinking down into one of the old wooden kitchen chairs. He certainly couldn’t tell them right now. Ron was on his way with his girlfriend and it wouldn’t be fair to drop this bomb on his mum right now. Her anger and disappointment would leave a bad impression on the girl and potentially ruin their relationship. The last thing he needed was to be the reason that his sibling lost the girl he was madly in love with. 

“What brings you around today?” his father asked, walking into the kitchen.

“I- I um-,” he faltered, feeling his parents’ eyes on him. “I have a date this weekend. Just thought you might want to know.”

That would have to do for now, he would tell them the rest at a later date. 

“Thank Merlin!” his mother squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me! You will have to bring this girl around soon. I will let the family know, we can all meet her!”

“Molly,” his dad said gently, chuckling at his wife's eagerness to marry off all seven of her kids as quickly as possible. “He said he had a date. Don’t you think it is a little early for the girl to be meeting the family?”

His mum just waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t mean right now, but soon. Very soon," his mum gave him a look that suggested any alternative would not be tolerated. Squishing his cheeks she kissed the top of his head. "How could a fine young lady not want to date my handsome baby boy? Just look at him Arthur. Girls at the Ministry must be going absolutely mad over my Percy.”

Having his cheeks squished was perhaps his second least favorite thing in the world. The first being the fact that no one in his family even seemed to suspect the whole him being gay thing. At least if they were questioning his sexuality then he could convince himself that it wouldn’t come as such a shock. 

As of right now it didn’t look like either of his parents thought that his date was anyone other than some nice girl that they had been pressuring him to meet for years now. 

He couldn’t tell them the truth. It would just have to wait a little bit longer and since no press was allowed at the Ministry function he could safely take Oliver as his date and then tell his family this weekend. 

That would certainly spice up dinner Sunday night. What was a few more days when he had already been living the lie for years now?

“Yeah well,” he looked down at his hands trying not to start crying right there. “I should go. Just thought that you should know.”

He hurried from the room, hearing his mum and dad calling his name but pretended that he couldn’t hear them. If they asked him about it later he would blame it on not wanting to be late for work. 

All discussions with his family regarding him being gay were officially on hiatus. He would simply focus on one thing at a time. The first was to get through the Ministry function on Friday night and get his career back on track so that he could become the head of the Department for Magical Transportation and then Minister of Magic in a few more years. No press allowed at the party meant that he had a few more days to figure out exactly how to deal with the second issue.

He would tackle the whole coming out to his family thing this weekend. 

Chapter Text

            "It’s you and your world and I’m caught in the middle...It’s my head or my heart and I’m caught in the middle… Let’s be lonely together. A little less lonely together.” Avicii ft. Rita Ora- Lonely Together

The people in his department had been given a mandatory half day so preparations for tonight’s party could be completed without interference. Mandatory being the key word because otherwise he would not have left work early for any reason.

Even if it was Friday afternoon on a rare weekend where it wasn't supposed to rain. Something that was almost unheard of for the month of April in England.

In his entire time at the Ministry he had only taken two sick days and there had only been one other time that he left work before the normal quitting time of 6 pm. That had been when he received word from Aberforth Dumbledore that the deatheaters were planning on attacking Hogwarts. He had been the Minister of Magic's right hand man and had fled deatheater run Ministry hoping that he wasn't too late. Thus embarking on the most awkward ten minutes of his life as he tried to reunite with his estranged family in a room full of people who were pretending not to listen in on their conversation. What happened after that was too painful to think about, even on days when he was feeling good about everything else in his life.

Thankfully today his time off work was under far more pleasant circumstances.

Everyone else in his department had been delighted for the additional paid time off however he found that it did nothing but increase his overall anxiety. He needed to stay busy and keep his mind preoccupied so that his thoughts wouldn’t wander to dark places. Work offered a necessary escape from his own mind and now he had several extra hours to spend with himself. Luckily his best mate, Penelope Clearwater, had agreed to meet him for lunch today so he was spared the unpleasantness of having just himself for company- for a few hours at least.

They planned to meet in the Department of Mysteries where she worked as an assistant for the unspeakables. In his opinion it was the creepiest department at the Ministry because as soon as you walked through the double doors the whole place had an eerie silence that would have caused him to slip slowly into madness after only a few days working there. Not to mention the fact that the doors moved which could cause someone to get utterly lost in there, possibly not re-emerging for several years if they kept choosing the wrong door. 

Penny loved it though, she claimed that the oppressive silence is what helped her think so clearly since it reminded her of a library. He disagreed with that assessment, he loved that the library didn’t allow people to carry on loud conversations however it was far from silent. He enjoyed the soft rustle of pages as people read or flipped through a book they were perusing, the light tapping of fingers on a table, the sound of shoes walking across the floor, and of course the enticing sound of quills dancing across a piece of parchment. The Department of Mysteries had none of that, walking in there was like walking into a void. Sound just seemed to disappear into the abyss as soon as you crossed the threshold. 

Thankfully today she was filing paperwork which meant that he didn’t have to venture too far into the large rounded atrium that made him feel unsettled and a little on edge. He found his friend standing in front of a wall made entirely of floor to ceiling filing cabinets. She had a stack of folders filled with pieces of parchment in her hands, calling out a sequence of seemingly random numbers that would open up a corresponding drawer. The folder would fly out of her hand, settling neatly in the drawer. It was actually quite impressive to watch, certainly more fun than his department’s way of keeping track of the copious amounts of paperwork that threated to spill out of every drawer they had available. 

She noticed him walking over to her and greeted him with a warm smile, pushing up her glasses which had slid down the bridge of her nose. “Percy Weasley, taking a half day off. Alert the Daily Prophet. We have front page news.” 

“Forced to take a half day,” he corrected, sighing miserably as he watched more folders fly into a drawer which snapped closed. He wasn't sure if it was magic or the fact that it was the Department of Mysteries but normally the sound would have echoed as metal hit metal, however it just made a faint ringing sound which barely registered with his ears. Having grown up with Fred and George he spent most of his lifetime having to listen for any little sound that would tip him off that they were about to pull a prank on him. As a result his hearing was impeccable and normally he could hear small sounds that others never really registered. 

He would definitely go mad working in here for any length of time. 

“You are the only person I know that would actually be upset about having unexpected time off before what is supposed to be a lovely weekend,” Penny raised one eyebrow at him, setting her remaining stack of files on a nearby desk with a faint thud that he didn't quite catch. 

“Finish up if you need,” he gestured to the stack of folders that were still waiting to be filed. Sitting down in one of the hard wooden chairs, he wiggled a little to try and find a comfortable position. Leaning back he crossed his feet in front of him, folding his hands across his stomach. “I am in no rush.”

“I am hungry,” she stated simply, grabbing her dragonhide purse which was sitting nearby in a drawer. He made a mental note that if she and Charlie were ever in the same room together to have her hide that purse in case his brother lost his mind. “Besides, you need to get out of the Ministry. If I allowed it, you would park yourself in that chair all afternoon. All of your other co-workers are already at home by now. Enjoying their afternoon like any sane person would do.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, heaving himself into a standing position so they could leave. "I will breathe in the London air full of smog and feel the sun on my pale skin which burns far too easily for my liking. If it pleases you I will even skip down the busy streets singing about how wonderful life is."

"That would please me greatly," Penny remarked, completely unscathed by his biting retort to her observation that most people would fully embrace some unexpected time away from work. She linked her arm in his, guiding him gently towards the correct door that would allow them to exit the department instead of plummeting them further into the labyrinth. He had to admit that he was glad that she took the reins on this particular endeavor, the door she chose was not the one that he would have tried. 

Though, perhaps getting lost in the Department of Mysteries might not be the worst thing. Penny would probably be able to find him after a few days or so and if he was lucky his mum would be so thankful to have him back that she wouldn't even care about the whole being gay thing. Certainly something to consider in case he needed to have a plan B. 

Usually Penny only got an hour for lunch but today she assured him that she could use some overtime so the two of them could properly catch up. He certainly had quite a bit to tell her since the last few days had been somewhat of a whirlwind. Something told him that she would not be thrilled about the whole permadate situation. On the way to lunch he kept the conversation mainly focused on work and how he was certain that his entire family had decided to band together to drive him absolutely mental. Penny listened sympathetically as he explained how his career was stagnant, emphasizing how tonight's party had to go perfectly if he had any shot at being chosen as the replacement for his current head of the department, who had been hinting at retirement all week.

She knew about his ten step plan to become Minister of Magic. The war had really set him back in that endeavor, forcing him to change course unexpectedly. He found that he couldn’t bring himself to work directly for the Minister after the war, even though Kingsley Shacklebolt offered him his old job back. There were too many painful memories associated with that time in his life, so he had accepted a job with his current department. Vowing to work his way up to eventually becoming the Minister for Magic, head of his department was simply step one. 

“What’s new in your personal life?” Penny asked in an offhand way, surveying the lunch specials at the muggle restaurant not far from the Ministry. 

“Well,” he hesitated, trying to decide if he should get into everything before they ordered food or wait a few minutes. “I- I have a date tonight for the Ministry function.”

“That’s… surprising,” Penny looked a little blindsided since he hadn’t mentioned a romantic interest lately. “Is this a girl that your mum set you up with or one that you got on your own?”

He looked up from the menu, gasping at the audacity of his best mate. “It’s one that I got on my own thank you very much. I am capable of getting a date without the interference of my pushy mother, you know.”

“Are you sure about that?” Penny snorted, giving him a teasing look. She quickly realized that he was not in the mood to joke around today so she switched tactics to a more serious approach. “So, who is the girl?”

“It’s not a girl,” he mumbled into his water glass, not daring to meet her eyes. When he finally did lift his eyes to look at her, he found that she had broken into the widest grin that he had ever seen as she started to piece together the parts that he had left out to form her own conclusions.

“NO!” Penny squealed, clapping her hands. “You are actually going to be seen in public with a boy?”

“Yes,” he nodded solemnly at her unbridled enthusiasm. “Can we please not make a big deal about this?”

“It is a big deal though,” Penny insisted, placing an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. She looked at her best mate with a proud look in her eyes. “You have never gone on a public date in the Wizarding World with a boy before. Especially not at the Ministry where no one besides me, and I think Hermione, knows that you are gay. In fact you have never had a real relationship with anyone. Before you say anything ours does not count. We were both gay but didn't know it yet, we stayed together for convenience. Oh this is so exciting! This is that personal growth I am always telling you about.”

He rubbed his temples, already incredibly anxious about tonight. Perhaps he should have warned the people in his department that he would be showing up with a man. However, that would require him to actually know the people in his department on a personal level. He had opted for just showing up and letting the rest fall into place. They would be able to fill in the gaps to draw the conclusion that he was gay, no need to do the work for them. “I am aware.”

"What did the family say about it?" Penny was incredibly curious now, he could already see her thinking about all of the double dates that he could now accompany her and her girlfriend on now. 

Thankfully he was saved from having to answer right away by the appearance of their waiter who took their lunch orders. His hesitance to tell her wasn’t because he was ashamed of Oliver or their situation. Penny would just make a big deal about him not telling his family about the whole gay thing and taking Oliver as his fake date tonight. She would probably try to turn this into a serious relationship when all it really boiled down to was that both of them needed dates on occasion. Why not take each other?

"Not much," he said hesitantly as Penny's eyebrows lifted at his family's lack of a reaction to such shocking news. "But that might be because I haven't exactly told them. I tried to have the whole 'I'm gay' talk with my parents but it was interrupted by Ron's news that he could finally tell Mona about magic. So I just told them I had a date this weekend. Never specified a gender, they assumed it was a girl though. I just never corrected them."

Penny gave a low whistle, shaking her head in defeat. "That is real-" she seemed to struggle for a word to accurately describe the situation.

"Cowardly?" he supplied the word that he had said to himself over and over again the past few days with a sheepish look at her. 

"Well yeah, but I was going to be a little nicer about it," Penny gave a warm chuckle but her eyes betrayed how worried she was about this plan. "Aren't you concerned? I mean you are about to go on a very public date with some guy and your family has no idea your gay. What if someone says something to them? What if there are pictures? What if this puts the mystery man into the spotlight?"

"It is only the people in my department and Ministry officials at the function tonight. No one there will say anything to my family members before I can tell them on Saturday afternoon. There is no press allowed so not really concerned about any physical evidence of the date making its way to the family. Also, the mystery man is used to the spotlight. If anything it is me who will be unprepared for the media storm once our fake relationship comes to light."

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Penny was genuinely curious now, her face scrunched up in concentration. An onlooker would assume that she didn’t approve of their conversation but he knew that she was just trying to guess who in the world he would know well enough to ask to the Ministry function. She was also probably going through a mental catalogue of men who were gay and would be used to being featured in the Daily Prophet. 

“Well?” she prompted, making a hurry up motion with her hands which became more insistent as her impatience with him grew.  

“Oliver Wood,” he whispered, his eyes darting around the restaurant as if Rita Skeeter was sitting only a table away with her quill at the ready to create a scandal where there wasn’t one.

“Oliver?” Penny’s eyes widened as she tried to fully comprehend what he had just told her. “I didn’t even realize that the two of you were friends again. I feel like you owe me a story time.”

He picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his robe. “Well, it is kind of a long story…” As he explained his friend listened intently to him, occasionally nodding her head or making a noncommittal noise. Her expression remained annoyingly neutral so he wasn’t sure if she thought he had finally gone mental or if she was on board with the plan. If he was a betting person he would put his money on the fact that she thought he had finally snapped under the immense pressure that his mother kept piling on him to find someone. 

“Let me get this straight,” Penny whispered, leaning across the table with a dumbfounded expression. “You are taking Oliver Wood, your first guy crush, as your fake date tonight because your mum and siblings have finally driven you to the brink of insanity. The two of you have come up with this backstory for a fake relationship but have agreed not to be romantically involved with each other. Just spend copious amounts of time together at different functions where you will act as if you are dating but other than that you won’t speak to each other. Do you not see the numerous issues with this plan?”

“The plan is perfect,” he insisted, watching his friend’s constantly changing expressions intently. “It solves a variety of problems. I have a date whenever I need it as long as Oliver is not otherwise engaged with Quidditch. It will also finally get my mother off my back about finding someone and she will quit trying to set me up with anything that moves. My siblings will stop giving my pitying glances across the dinner table and offering to introduce me to their friends. They will all think I am in a relationship and I will no longer fantasize about going out to the back garden and bashing my head in with one of the spare beater bats during Sunday dinner.”

“Friends with benefits never works,” she said simply. “Someone always ends up getting hurt.”

“Just friends, no benefits,” he replied, feeling oddly defensive of his unusual arrangement with Oliver. “Technically, we don’t even have to be friends if we don’t want to be. There will certainly be no actual romance involved in any of this. That is one of our rules of being each other’s permadate. Strictly platonic.”

Penny blinked at him sitting back in her chair. “It starts out like that, strictly platonic. Both of you insisting that you are perfectly fine pretending to date and telling yourselves that you don’t need a real relationship. What happens when one of you wants more?”

“Then we break the permadate contract. Once one of us finds someone to actually date then we just tell the other that we are done,” he shrugged at Penny who still looked a little wary about the entire plan.

“That wasn’t what I was referring to, you daft idiot,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively. “I mean what happens when one of you decides that you want more from each other? Someone is bound to catch some feelings. It would be nice if both of you did, but it rarely works like that.”

“Oliver would never want someone like me,” he argued. “He is a rather famous Quidditch player and could get any guy, or girl for that matter, that he wants. There is no way that he would ever fall for some skinny, career obsessed, rule worshipping git who wouldn’t know a good time if it danced naked in front of him on top of a hula hooping dragon. So, I am the only one who stands to get hurt in this situation. If I ever have romantic feelings towards him then I will simply break off the agreement.”

Penny sighed heavily, massaging her temples. “The twins?” she asked, waiting for his nod of acknowledgment. “Percy, you have got to quit putting yourself down like this. Seriously, you are a real catch.”

“Can we talk about something else please?” he pleaded with her, giving his best puppy dog eyes and pouty face. 

“No,” she said stubbornly, absolutely intent on convincing her friend that he could indeed snag a guy like Oliver Wood. “Listen to me. You are hot ok. You look like your older brother Bill, who is absolutely smoldering by the way. Who doesn’t like someone who knows what they want out of life? You have a goal and you devise a plan to achieve said goal. Much like a certain sexy keeper and newly appointed captain who will be accompanying you this evening. You are fun, you are actually a lot of fun. Fred and George just don’t see that because all they care about is their joke shop. If they would pull their heads out of their arses then they would be able to see all of that.”

He shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze. “So you think that I should call up Oliver and tell him to forget about all of this?”

“NO!” Penny smacked her hand on the table, capturing the attention of several people sitting nearby who gave them disgruntled glances. “That is the last thing you need to do. I like Oliver, I have always liked Oliver. During Hogwarts he was the one who stood up for you to your family and to the other students. He made sure that you didn’t spend seven years hiding in the library or your dorm, studying yourself into a coma. You laugh and smile more when he is around. He is good for you.”

“Now you are just making things up,” he stirred his soup with a frown. “I do not smile and certainly do not laugh.”

“Well,” she said tentatively, not wanting to bring up old wounds over lunch. “Not as much during the past few years, sure. But before… you did laugh and smile. Quite a lot actually, you know when you weren't with your siblings.”

He lifted his head, staring at her with a confused expression. He wasn’t exactly sure where she was going with this conversation. Oliver was just someone that he got along well with, which was the reason why he had chosen him as his permadate. If he was going to be stuck with someone at functions he wanted to be able to have a pleasant conversation. 

Penny took advantage of his stunned silence to continue on with her point. “Come talk to me when you feel yourself starting to self-sabotage. I don’t want to see you ruin a potentially good thing because you are scared of intimacy.”

“There is nothing to ruin,” he stated simply, dipping his bread into his bowl of soup. “We have an agreement. Dates to functions until one of us says otherwise. Nothing more.”

“Ok,” Penny snorted, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Tell me more about Ron and Mona. I am sure that the whole, ‘her boyfriend being a wizard,’ thing was quite the shock.”

“You have no idea,” he grinned. Filling her in on the dramatic reveal that had occurred at the Burrow just the other day. He was hoping that his mum would focus her energy on Mona, who almost hyperventilated when she found out that her boyfriend could perform real magic. That would certainly take the heat off of him for a while as his mum turned her attention towards her potential future daughter in law to keep her from running off in absolute terror.

One could only hope. 

He stood in front of his full-length mirror giving his outfit choice for the evening a very critical inspection. After a bit of back and forth he opted for a classic look tonight with a crisp white button-down shirt and a plain black silk lined suit. He had saved up for months to buy this particular piece of clothing because he noticed a few years ago that all of the heads of department and other prominent Ministry officials wore sleek black suits to all of the functions. While he had gotten it used it was still quite expensive even without the small fortune that he paid to have it altered to better fit his thin frame.

According to Penny and her girlfriend, Allie, it was worth the exorbitant amount of money and did wonders for his figure and made him look like he was in a James Bond movie. Having never watched any of those muggle films, despite their insistence that he would in fact like them, he just had to take their word for it. Admiring himself he did have to admit that he looked good. In fact he looked really good. 

Giving himself a double finger gun in the mirror he tried his best 'I know I'm devilishly handsome but I don't want to admit it' face. "I'm Weasley," he said to himself. "Percy Weasley. Nice to meet you."

Feeling rather foolish he quickly dropped all pretense that he was some muggle international spy and decided to do one more check of the seams on his suit and dress shirt which had to be immaculate, not a single loose thread or speck of lint could be seen on him tonight. He had to exude an air of professionalism and attention to even the most minute of details if he hoped to impress his bosses enough to choose him out of list of other highly qualified candidates. No longer naïve enough to believe that his quality of work was enough to earn him a promotion he knew that he was going to have to look and act the part. 

What was currently giving him pause was which tie was he going to pick. He had narrowed it down to two options, he held them both in his hands and was going through a mental list of pros and cons for each one. Weighing all of the reasons for each one for how it could elevate his overall look or potentially clash with his ensemble. 

Tonight had to go flawlessly, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't worried about his date. Usually he would have spent several hours fretting incessantly about how the person he was bringing to a function would commit some social misstep during the evening that would negatively impact him. However, he was pleasantly at ease. He was so at ease that all he had told Oliver was that he would need to wear a suit but hadn't given any more precise instructions that that. He trusted the man to not show up in some hideous suit that looked like it was straight out of the seventies or to show up in torn jeans and a stained shirt. Both of those had actually happened to him when he tried to invite a muggle man that he had met at a bar out for a nice dinner. 

A loud knock at the front door of his flat pulled him out of his consultation with himself over which tie to wear tonight. He figured he would just ask Oliver who would probably be able to make the decision far easier than he ever could.

“Come in,” he called. He wasn’t going to deny that he was impressed. Over half an hour earlier than expected, the Oliver he once knew was never one for punctuality unless of course it involved Quidditch in some way. 

“Percy Weasley!” his sister’s voice rang throughout the small flat. “Who is this fabulous woman that you have a date with? I want to meet my future sister-in-law!”

Merlin’s beard! He really couldn’t catch a break lately. First thing Monday morning he needed to inquire about the possibility of getting some wards around this flat that would keep the other Weasley's out unless he wanted them to visit. Which at this rate would be never. 

“No one!” he hissed, coming out of his room to face his obnoxious sister and future brother-in-law. “My date will be here any minute and I don’t want them to meet my nosy sister and her fiance.”

Ginny was unperturbed by her intrusion into his personal life while Harry looked extremely apologetic about the situation. “Tried to talk her out of it,” Harry shrugged helplessly as he glared at the two of them. He couldn’t blame the boy too much, no one told his baby sister what to do. She had a bull-headed stubbornness when she put her mind to something and she always got her way in the end.

She was a Weasley after all, stubbornness was built right in.  

“You look nice,” she complimented, giving him a once over with her eyes. “Is this all for your mysterious hot date? She must be one real special lady for you to get all fancy for her.”

He looked down at his watch, panicking as another minute till Oliver was supposed to arrive tick by. Every minute they were here was another minute he risked Oliver showing up early. The last thing he needed was to have that conversation right now. “Yes, we are going to an extremely important Ministry function tonight and as I said they will be here any minute. Please leave.”

Ginny grinned at Harry, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “Looks like he wants to keep this mystery woman a secret a little longer. That’s fine. I will just ask Hermione the next time that I see her. By the way, choose the blue one, it will make your eyes pop,” she gestured to the tie in his right hand. 

“Come along dear,” Harry attempted to steer his fiance towards the door. “We have dinner reservations in half an hour and we are currently intruding on your brother’s evening.”

Ginny caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye and abruptly headed straight for the couch. Harry groaned, trailing after her to try and get her back on track so they could make their reservation. “Tell Oliver I said hello!” his sister called casually over her shoulder. 

His face drained of all color as if he had just seen a ghost for the first time, staring open-mouthed at Ginny. Not that she noticed, she was too busy fluffing the pillows on the couch which apparently she thought looked far too flat to ever impress his date while Harry gently tugged on her arm. “WHAT?” he practically screeched, flinging both ties halfway across the room as he brought his hands up over his head. 

She couldn’t know. It was impossible that she could have guessed. He had been so careful. No one but Penny knew and he was certain that she hadn’t told anyone. There was no way that she knew that Oliver was his date for tonight. She had come in here asking about a woman, if she knew then she would have said Oliver's name long before now. 

“Oh-” Ginny slowly turned to face him, a slight blush on her cheeks from the guilt of dropping that bomb on him. “Did you not know? We actually invited him to dinner with us to celebrate his new position as captain, but he said he had a date, some Ministry function. I thought you knew that he was going with a colleague of yours.”

“Yep,” Harry tried again to lead Ginny towards the open door. “Oliver is dating one of Percy’s co-workers and your brother has a date tonight as well. I am sure it will all be fine. They are cordial with each other and whatever happened was years ago. Now let’s go to the restaurant so that we don’t make even more of a nuisance of ourselves. Goodbye Percy, sorry again for the intrusion on your evening.”

"Bye brother dearest," Ginny cooed at him, batting her eyelashes. Sound far too similar to the twins for his frazzled nerves to handle right now. "Don't do anything tonight that you wouldn't want our dear mother finding out about."

"Ginny!" Harry moaned. "Reservations. We have to go. Please."

He watched them leave his flat, listening intently for the sound of two cracks that let him know they had officially left the premises. He felt as though he might be on the verge of suffering an anxiety attack. For one horrifying moment he thought that Ginny might know and if she knew then everyone in the family would soon be told the news. Harry looked as if he had his suspicions, but for now wasn’t voicing them. Either out of respect for Oliver's privacy or his, perhaps both. 

Now that was a funny twist of fate.

The boy who was oblivious being the one person in the family, besides Hermione, to have their doubts about his sexuality.

When Oliver did finally walk-in, about five minutes earlier than planned, he found his date had worried himself into a right state. Pacing back and forth across the living room of his tiny flat, ranting to himself like an absolute lunatic. His hair, which he had spent almost half an hour on, was sticking straight up from where he had been running his hands through it in apprehension that his entire family was about to show up demanding to know why he was gay. 

They ruined everything else. Why not ruin this as well?

“Why is your door open and what the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Oliver asked with a concerned look at his date who looked to be teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown. 

“My sister and Harry just left!” he gasped, trembling from head to toe as his short life flashed before his eyes. "They were standing right here! In my flat!"

Oliver slowly nodded, not really understanding the full extent of the issue. “Does their mere presence normally send you into this state?”

“It does when my plan to tell my mum and dad that I was going to be bringing you as a date was foiled! Ron's girlfriend now knows about magic! Ginny and Harry might know that I have a date with you! If they know then Ginny will tell everyone. Everyone Oliver. My entire family is going to know in mere minutes. I can’t have my whole family in my flat. The twins- oh Merlin the twins would ruin everything! Everything! My entire evening would be in shambles, my future bleak!”

Oliver’s eyes were wider than normal and he looked like he wasn’t sure if he should give him a hug or get him a calming draught. “Just breathe,” he soothed, tentatively smoothing his date's fluffy hair down so that it looked like he normally wore it. “They didn’t know ok. Otherwise they would have said something. Let’s just go to the function and have a good time. You can tell your family about the whole permadate thing when you are ready. There is no rush, I won't say a single word until you tell me to. Ok?" he paused to wait until he nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

Oliver put his hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "It's fine. I have been studying the lists you gave me and I have a pocket full of tickets. We are going to schmooze your way to Minister of Transportation. Everything is going to be just grand. You'll see. The entire Ministry will be eating out of your hand in no time.”

“Ok,” he whispered, feeling dizzy and weak in the knees as he came down from the sudden rush of adrenaline he received from hearing Ginny utter Oliver's name. He hadn't expected Oliver to be so good at talking people off a ledge but he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Quidditch players were know to be a little high strung and competitive, he probably had to soothe frazzled nerves on a daily basis. 

“Sit down,” Oliver commanded in his captain’s voice. Taking charge of the situation like he always did. “You look like you might pass out. I will get you a glass of water and you can get your feet back under you.”

He didn’t want to allow Oliver to boss him around but he also didn’t want to end up unconscious on the floor either. His legs did feel rather wobbly and he was quite lightheaded, the corners of his vision were already starting to blur. Sinking down into a nearby chair he waited for Oliver to hand him a glass of water, sipping it gratefully. Oliver also placed a cool, damp rag on his forehead, pressing it lightly before instructing him to lean back and prop his feet up. 

Oliver sat down on the couch watching him sip his water with a worried expression. He had to admit that he was impressed, his own family would have made a big deal about his little spell a few minutes ago however Oliver was just sitting nearby quietly. Probably keeping an eye on him in case he did in fact faint but not asking him if he was ok every few seconds or trying to force him to talk about his multitude of issues. He was a little bit embarrassed by his freak-out, but Oliver was so far being very kind and understanding, not belittling him or making him feel like a major inconvenience.

“Pick the blue one,” Oliver said quietly after a few minutes of comfortable silence. 

“What?” 

“The two ties on the floor. Pick the blue one, it really brings out those eyes of yours.”

“Ok,” he nodded, focusing on anything but Oliver’s face right now. “Do you really have a pocket full of Quidditch tickets?”

Oliver rolled his eyes at the question. “Not literally. I have a count though of the number of tickets that I have been able to acquire. Ready to hand them out to some Ministry officials. Some call it bribery, I call it strategy.”

“I call it a stroke of absolute genius,” he finished his glass of water, no longer feeling shaky and more like his normal put together self.

Oliver grinned, putting his feet up on his coffee table and looking around the flat now that he wasn’t worried about his mental state. “Thank you. I know I am.”

“Feet off the table,” he admonished, smacking Oliver’s legs lightly. “Were you raised on a farm or something?”

“Yep,” Oliver replied with a smirk, taking his feet off the table. “When my parents got tired of me mucking up their house they just put me out in the field with the sheep.”

He stood up slowly to retrieve the ties that he had dropped on the floor when Ginny had upset him earlier. “Get it out of your system. There will be none of that tonight. The officials at the Ministry will not find you nearly as funny as you find yourself.”

“Pity for them,” Oliver motioned him over to the couch where he was sitting. “Instead of offering them tickets to upcoming matches I could entertain them with my stand up comedy act.” 

Oliver set about the task of tying his tie for him, straightening it so that it was directly in the center just like he always liked it. Quickly brushing off his thin shoulders, Oliver looked him over quickly giving a short nod of approval. 

“Something tells me that you should probably just stick to Quidditch. Leave the comedy to the professionals,” he teased, reaching out to fix a few pieces of Oliver’s hair which always looked just a little bit wind-blown.

“We should probably get going,” Oliver suggested, his voice slightly lower than before, tapping his watch to indicate that it was getting close to 7pm. “I know how you like to be early to things. Plus, you will have more one-on-one time than those who wait until right before dinner to arrive.” 

“I like the way you think,” he paused, trying to decide the best way to get to the Ministry. They could use the floo network but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to deal with the soot that he would have to dust off of himself. “Are you good with apparating?”

“Oh,” Oliver furrowed his brow, giving his date a quizzical look. “I thought we were flying. I have a broom that I am testing for a new company outside in the hallway and borrowed Harry’s invisibility cloak so we wouldn’t tip off the muggles. Just to warn you there are still a few kinks to work out so it is a little bumpy but not horrible. You don’t mind sudden drops in altitude do you?”

If it hadn’t been for the huge grin that spread across Oliver’s face he would have thought he was serious about that suggestion. “You are not funny. Brooms are dangerous, in fact in a recent report broom related incidents made up over-”

“Look at the time!” Oliver exclaimed, checking his wrist that didn’t even have a watch and standing up quickly. “We really should be going if we don’t want to be late. Not that I don’t want to hear all about your statistics on broom mishaps, but perhaps we can postpone that chat until later. Wouldn’t want to waste all of that brilliance on me when you could use it to impress your bosses.”

“Fine,” he conceded, not wanting to risk being late even though he felt that Oliver should have all the facts on broom safety statistics. The Quidditch league tended to downplay just how dangerous those death sticks really were. “Now do you know where the Ministry is?”

Oliver stared at him, blinking a few times before nodding his head. “Do you really think I am that stupid? I mean, I know I have taken a few bludgers to the head but Merlin’s beard! You must think of me as some sort of simpleton.”

“It was a simple question Oliver!” he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Now can we please just get to the party so I can try and make it through tonight without having another breakdown?”

“All right, all right,” Oliver said, nudging his shoulder with a teasing look. “Beat you there!” he said, before he disapparated with a wink and a loud crack.

He stood there for a few seconds shaking his head and regretting his decision to ever befriend that boy on the Hogwarts Express. He should have just gotten up and left the compartment when he had the chance, then perhaps he wouldn’t be in this mess right now. With a sigh he prayed that tonight would go well as he disapparated.

Chapter Text

“Everything I need is right here by my side. And I know everything about you, I don’t wanna live without you. I’m only up when you’re not down, don’t wanna fly if you’re still on the ground. It’s like no matter what I do. Well, you drive me crazy half the time. The other half I’m only tryna let you know that what I feel is true. And I’m only me when I’m with you.”  Taylor Swift- I’m Only Me When I’m With You

He arrived outside the Ministry of Magic to find Oliver leaned against the side of the building, one leg planted firmly on the ground and the other one bent at the knee with his foot resting against the wall. That annoying grin lighting up Olivers face with one eyebrow raised as he watched him fidget anxiously with his suit jacket and tie. 

“About time you showed up,” Oliver remarked casually. “I was beginning to worry that you were going to stand me up for our first fake date.”

“Don’t think the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” he shivered against a chilly spring breeze as it cut through the fabric of his suit jacket, realizing with a barely audible groan that he wasn’t wearing his dress robes. In his panic over his sister and Harry unexpectedly showing up at his flat he had completely forgotten to grab them off the hook by the front door before he disapparated.

Great, now he would either have to walk into this function without any dress robes or waste time backtracking to his flat. Just bloody fantastic. 

Standing in the cool night air he performed some quick calculations to decide how long it would take him to apparate back to the flat and grab the robes while still ensuring he was on time for the function. He would probably have to bring Oliver along with him while he completed this errand, not wanting to leave him standing outside in the middle of muggle London and certainly didn’t need him wandering about the Ministry all alone. That was simply asking for a disaster which his already frazzled nerves were not currently capable of withstanding. 

Feeling a light bump on the shoulder he looked at Oliver who, without being asked, duplicated his own dress robes with a slight shrug. Handing them over to his very grateful date for the evening before awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot.  

“You look nice by the way,” he remarked, pulling on the robes that Oliver had been kind enough to conjure for him. His date really did look quite dashing this evening. He wore a black silk lined suit that was tailored to show off his sculpted physique courtesy of years playing Quidditch, a black button-down shirt, and a black striped silk tie. It was an ensemble that had he tried to pull it off would have looked ridiculous on his tall and lanky frame, however on Oliver it looked bloody fantastic. 

Realizing that he had been staring at his fake date's physique a fraction of a second too long he quickly averted his gaze. Choosing instead to study the very interesting brick wall that was directly in front of him, his ears burning with knowledge that Oliver caught him staring. Suddenly insanely thankful that it was beginning to get dark outside so the blush spread down his neck wasn't obvious to the casual passerby. 

Oliver slowly nodded his head, nervously biting his bottom lip as he quickly glanced over at him then back towards the ground. “You do as well,” he quietly replied, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the pavement as they stood there in awkward silence for a few seconds. “Ready to go in?”

“I suppose,” he sighed, heading towards the red telephone box they would need to use since Oliver was not a regular Ministry employee. He wasn’t sure if muggle phone boxes were naturally roomy or if this was the effects of some enchantment but either way he was thankful that both of them were able to comfortably fit inside the box. Oliver was leaned up against one of the walls letting him take the lead in this particular endeavor. Picking up the part of the phone that he was fairly sure you spoke into he punched in “62442” on the silver buttons. While he had never actually done this in person before, he had dutifully read all of the informational pamphlets that the Ministry distributed on proper policies regarding visitors. 

Holding up his hand that gripped the phone he turned to face Oliver. “Just waiting for the voice to ask for identification,” he explained, more to fill the silence than because he felt like anyone needed to know what he was doing at that exact moment. 

Oliver chuckled softly as he nodded his head, picking distractedly at one of his fingernails. “I know. I have been to the Ministry before. They like to do spot tests for controlled substances where they drag you down here and make you pee in a cup in front of some surly official, then stick you in a freezing room while they distribute your urine into smaller cups. All the while staring at you as they add drops of potions just waiting for them to turn one of the bad colors. I actually think they are a little disappointed when they can’t catch the really popular players doing something wrong.” 

Feeling the tips of his ears going bright red he turned back around to wait for the voice to come through the phone. He didn’t really know how to respond to any of what Oliver had just told him, if it had been him he would probably be kicked off the team for failure to pee. Having to do all of that in front of someone was a whole different type of humiliation that he did not care to ever experience. “Welcome to the British Ministry of Magic. If you have an employee code please enter it now. If not please state your name and your reason for visiting today,” the pleasant female voice came through the telephone, sounding slightly robotic. 

Glancing over at Oliver who was watching him intently he made a turn around motion with his free hand prompting his fake date to roll his eyes dramatically but obliged his silent request. “Is your employee code ‘paranoid’?” he muttered darkly, even though he was facing the wall it was obvious he was rolling his eyes at him again. 

“Nope,” he replied dryly, carefully punching in the sequence of numbers that he had diligently memorized years ago on the off chance that he would ever have to use this entrance. “My code is ‘Pinhead' if you must know."

He heard Oliver snort as he dissolved into fits of loud laughter that filled the phone box at his joke. Glad that his former best mate was facing the opposite direction so he couldn’t see the wide grin that briefly spread across his face at his ability to still make him laugh even after all these years of not speaking to each other.  

When he was thinking of a response he suddenly recalled his fifth year when Fred and George stole his prefect badge to “improve” it as they claimed. Everyone kept laughing at him during breakfast for a reason that he couldn’t seem to quite grasp until Oliver had taken pity on him and pointed it out. At the time his roommate hadn’t said much about the incident but for several days afterwards Fred and George walked around with their legs bowed out, loudly grumbling that they were going to shove their dictator of a captain off his broom if he didn’t quit giving them extra warm-ups and making them stay after practice to fly around the pitch. He always thought that perhaps Oliver had decided to enact a little revenge on the twins for their prank on their older brother. 

“Welcome, Percy Weasley,” the voice greeted. “Please state the name of your guest and the reason for your visit.”

He had never really used a muggle phone before, the pamphlet hadn’t really gone over this portion other than the instructions to speak loudly and clearly into the receiver. Not really sure what a receiver was he shouted into the portion that he was holding in his right hand, “Oliver Wood! My date to a Ministry function!”

Hearing a weird beeping and clicking sound coming from the contraption he assumed the disembodied voice registered what he said and was simply processing the information. “Is there something funny you would like to point out?” he hissed at his date who was bent over double gasping for air as he howled with laughter for some unknown reason. 

Shaking his head Oliver put his hands over his mouth taking a few deep breaths to try and gather his composure. Finally standing upright, his shoulders shook as he choked out, “you’re doing great, Percy. Keep up the stellar work.”

He turned around in a huff, puffing out his chest as he waited for the visitor’s badge to finish being processed. “Welcome Oliver Wood- My date to a Ministry function. Please take your badge and enjoy your visit to the British Ministry of Magic,” the voice said. A badge appeared out of one of the slots on the muggle telephone. Taking it in his hands, his lips drooping downwards into a frown as his eyebrows knitted together. Slowly catching on to what was so hilarious to the person who was still unsuccessfully trying to control his laughter at the situation. 

Oliver held out his hand expectantly, his lips quivering from the effort of trying to hold in the giggles which were threatening to escape any minute. “My badge if you would be so kind.”

“No,” he muttered, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as he placed the badge in his robe pocket to prevent Oliver from walking around with that thing all night. “If anyone questions your presence just send them over to me. I will present the badge and explain the humiliating situation.”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Oliver gingerly took the phone from his grasp and hung it back up with a smirk. “I forget you're a pureblood,” Oliver said offhandedly, watching him tilt his head in confusion at the statement. “We will have a tutorial on how to use a phone. No need to scream into the receiver. Liable to bust someone’s eardrums that way. The badge isn’t that humiliating, when you are feeling up to it, I will fill you in on what some of the Quidditch players walk around with their Ministry guest badges displaying.”

“I can only imagine what your lot manages to come up with,” he sighed, staring at the ceiling as the lift started to slowly descend into the atrium of the Ministry.

Oliver lightly bumped his shoulder to get his attention. He hummed in response without really turning to face the man whose usual grin was replaced by a somber expression. “Look at us. Pinhead and the dictator, going to a Ministry party together. Who would have thunk it eh?” Oliver's tone may have been serious, but it was marred by the teasing look in his eyes as he stared at him, carefully watching his expressions as he struggled to keep his composure. 

Cutting his eyes over to his date who stood next to him with a pleased look on his face for his use of their old nicknames given to them by the twins while they were in school together. Despite his best efforts he let out an undignified snort, clamping his hands over his mouth as his shoulders shook with the effort of not walking into the Ministry in a right state. There was nothing attractive about the way he looked when he laughed and he certainly didn’t want to step off this lift with his face all scrunched up and a red tinge to his freckled skin from his ears down to his neck. That would clash with his ensemble and would not put forth the image of professionalism and dignified grace that he was attempting to portray tonight.

A certain someone wasn’t doing anything to help the situation. Choosing to stand beside him with that stupid grin of his that always got him what he wanted during their school days together, silently preening at Oliver's ability to get him to drop his usual stern demeanor and crack up laughing at the most inopportune time. 

“Now look here,” he coughed a few times to rid himself of any remaining humor at their light banter as he watched the lift approaching the atrium. Turning to Oliver he paused for a moment, had it been his siblings he would have snapped at them in a sharp tone. The last thing that he wanted to do was potentially hurt Oliver’s feelings. So far this evening he had been lovely and even took the time to memorize the long list of people that he gave him just a few short days ago. “I have to make a decent impression on my bosses tonight, so I am going to need you to keep the jokes to a minimum. I don’t look my best when I laugh like that,” he said softly, turning back around to face the front of the lift.

Oliver didn’t say anything in response for a minute or so, the tense silence filling in the gaps of the conversation. The lift finally reached the atrium with a ding that briefly startled them both as a sheepish look crossed their faces. Stepping off, Oliver offered him his arm which he accepted without a second thought. The two of them headed towards the faint sounds of polite laughter and glasses clinking together. “I think you look absolutely fantastic when you laugh like that,” Oliver said under his breath, not bothering to look over at him as they neared the two wizards who were tasked with greeting the guests and supplying them with a glass of wine. 

For once in his life he was rendered speechless as his mind spun with the infinite number of potential meanings for a statement like that. None of which he had the time or the energy to ponder right now. There was the important matter of his career to focus all of his time and attention on, he didn't have time to pursue any romantic relationships. Not that he was expecting anything like that from Oliver, the two of them had agreed on platonic permadates so he was sure that his date was just being kind. Nothing more.

If someone had asked him one week ago if he ever thought he would be walking into a public function with a gorgeous man on his arm, he would have laughed in their face and asked the person if they were felling all right.

Yet, here he was on a date, albeit a fake one, with a man. Not just a man, but Oliver Wood- keeper and captain of Puddlemere United. The most popular player on the team not to mention one of the most popular in the Quidditch league in general. 

Needless to say the two of them certainly turned some heads when they walked through the atrium filled with people from his department. Focusing all of his restless energy on not tripping over his feet as well as keeping a pleasantly neutral face. He had a lot of practice keeping careful control over which emotions he outwardly displayed while working for the Ministry during the death eater's reign. While to a casual observer he might appear to be in complete control and at ease with the situation on the inside he was edging dangerously close to a nervous breakdown. 

Oliver seemed to sense the anxiety that was brimming just under the surface, tightening his grip ever so slightly he flashed him a reassuring smile. His kind eyes asked a silent question to which he nodded his head almost imperceptibly. It was nice, having someone care about him yet knowing him well enough to not make a big deal out of the situation.  

“Thanks for doing this,” he whispered, ignoring the multiple people who were turning to gossip to each other pointing at the two of them as they strolled past. Taking a sip of his white wine to calm his racing thoughts, he kept his eyes peeled for the higher up officials as well as his bosses so he could be sure to greet them early in the night. 

“Of course,” Oliver replied lightly, nodding his head at one of his colleagues who was jumping up and down and waving both of her hands. Seeing the nod she blushed furiously at actually being acknowledged by a famous Quidditch player before dissolving into a fit of excited giggles with her friend who was standing next to her. “Happy to be your arm candy for the evening.”

He smiled softly at that, it was more than just a little funny to watch people’s varied reactions as Oliver walked past them. To him he would always be just Ollie, the excitable little eleven year old that he met on the Hogwarts Express who had been kind enough to buy him something off the trolley when he found out that his new best mate didn’t have any spare change. 

To others he was Oliver Wood, this insanely famous Quidditch player who they only knew through the Daily Prophet articles and interviews. Some were shocked to see the captain of Puddlemere at the party, choosing to hang back whispering to their friends from afar while more than a few were making absolute fools of themselves to try and get the man’s attention. He had heard of Quidditch players being asked to sign body parts before and hoped that would not happen tonight, though it would be just a little bit funny to see one of his co-workers stick out their arm for Oliver to sign.

“Mr. Weasley!” Kingsley Shacklebolt boomed, heading over with his wife, Zara, who looked a little shell shocked as her gaze moved from him to his date. “Glad you could make it this evening. Is Mr. Wood your… guest for the evening?” Kingsley gestured to Oliver, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. There had been a pause that lasted for a few seconds before he said the word 'guest' as if he wasn’t quite sure he and Oliver were here as a couple or just two best mates who walked arm and arm through a room of crowded people. 

“This is my date for the evening,” he said with a polite expression, though his voice held an almost challenging edge. He stared at Kingsley and his wife, daring them to say something negative. Oliver was perhaps the sweetest individual that one could ever come across, he didn’t care if this was all fake no one at this function was going to insult his date. 

"Lovely to see you again Wood," Kingsley smiled, having recovered from his earlier discomfort but still glancing around the room as though he wasn't quite sure what the protocol was in such a situation. 

“Pleasure to see you both again as well,” Oliver moved his wine glass so he could shake Kingsley’s and Zara’s hands. “Lovely party this evening,” turning his gaze to Zara. “I understand that you headed up the planning committee. Percy was simply raving about the quality of your functions earlier this evening. If it is anything like the annual benefit that you organize for the Quidditch league then I am sure it will be lovely.”

He had in fact said no such thing but he had to hand it to his fake date what he said efficiently broke the mounting tension as Zara blushed furiously gushing her thanks to both of them for such wonderful compliments. Kingsley smiled fondly at his wife, taking immense pleasure in seeing her so happy that all of her hard work planning and organizing these functions was both noticed and appreciated by those in attendance. 

As the four of them eased into casual conversation regarding Puddlemere United's chances for making it into the finals this year and the annual benefit in June, making a mental note of the date so he could mark his calendar later tonight, he felt a sort of reserved optimism for this endeavor. If everyone else reacted as well to the news that he was gay and if Oliver could help him schmooze the higher up officials then he had no doubt that he was well on his way to being chosen as the next head of the Department of Magical Transportation. 

He was actually having a good time at the Ministry function, something that he never thought he would say. Normally he was a wallflower who preferred to just observe the merriment of others from afar. Only speaking when spoken to, quickly running out of things to say to someone leaving an awkward silence that he never quite knew how to fill. 

Tonight was different though.  

The multiple appetizers that were being passed around the ballroom were excellent. News of him being gay wasn't really news to most who were here tonight. Turns out that most of the women in his department, and a few of the men, had their suspicions about his sexuality. Him showing up with Oliver was simply confirmation of what they already knew and were simply waiting for him to come out and publicly state. There might have been a few borderline ugly looks from a few of the older guests but nothing that made him worry that his reputation would be tarnished as the news spread around the Ministry. If anything him bringing Oliver to this function as his date had made him infinitely more likable to the majority of his co-workers.

Oliver wasn’t kidding when he said he knew how to schmooze. There were people at this party who had never said more than few words to him before, they were now on a first name basis. The two of them had at least five dinner invitations and the overall consensus among those in attendance tonight was that he should have introduced Oliver to them sooner. 

Couldn’t really argue with that statement. He wished he had thought of this idea months ago, there was a distinct possibility that he would already be the next head of his department. Oliver was an absolute hit and thus he was as well.

Currently cornered by some older ladies in his department who were asking for exhaustive details regarding how the two of them met, how long they had been going out, had they met the parents, etc. The back story they came up with rolled off his tongue making the women he was talking to swoon. He decided that he was never mentioning that portion of the conversation to Oliver, he would never let him live down the fact that he was correct. Having a compelling backstory to the fake relationship was key to making sure that people believed it. 

Finally having broken free he spotted Oliver having what looked like an incredibly pleasant conversation with Stewart Crawford, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and his wife, Sara. “Hello,” he greeted, giving Oliver and the others a friendly smile. Handing his date a glass of wine that he had been on his way to get before he had been cornered, Oliver took it with a nod swirling the wine around before he took a sip. Definitely hadn’t noticed him do that earlier in the evening though he had been a bit more distracted than he was right now.  

“Weasley!” Mr. Crawford greeted him pleasantly. “I was just having a debate with your date here about whether the Appleby Arrows or Puddlemere United were going to end up in the finals for the league cup. Where do you stand?”

“While the Arrows certainly have a strong offence I am afraid that I will have to go with Puddlemere as being the favorites. Especially under their new leadership,” he mimicked the way that Oliver had swirled his wine around before taking a sip. His date gave him an odd look but didn’t say anything about it.

Mentally smacking himself as the tips of his ears burned red at his possible social misstep. He didn’t really know why he had done that, just seemed like the thing to do. Perhaps it was just a nervous tick that Oliver had picked up or maybe that was what you were supposed to do with wine. What he did know was that he didn’t want to look uncultured in front of the Crawfords. Hopefully they hadn’t found the action odd. 

“Smart man,” Crawford wagged his finger at him, either not noticing the wine swirling or not caring. “Any other answer and I would have worried about your safety. I guess we'll just have to see which one of us is correct in a couple of months. You will have to join my wife and I in our box seats Weasley. Your date said that he could get us passes to meet the Arrows as well as a behind the scenes stadium tour. Of course I have to hold up my end of the bargain.”

Crawford chuckled along with his wife. Oliver noticing his confused look supplied an answer to his silent question. “He has to cheer for me one time when I block a goal. Just a tiny cheer, nothing major.”

“That’s just cruel,” he lightly teased, right as Kingsley Shacklebolt tapped his glass to get everybody’s attention.  

“If you would please be seated we will begin shortly. We have chosen not to assign seats so please sit next to your friends or pick a complete stranger and make a new friend. There will be some quick announcements in a few minutes and then dinner will be served.”

“Sit with us?” Mr. Crawford asked the two of them, snaking his arm around the waist of his wife who beamed up at him. 

He discreetly glanced over at Oliver who nodded his head in approval of this plan. “We would be delighted,” he replied with a polite smile, taking another small sip of wine to steady himself. Trying not to overthink the evening thus far, things seemed to be going exceedingly well and he knew that if he got inside his own head now he would self-sabotage his chances of moving up the career ladder. 

“Excellent,” Mrs. Crawford gave a dazzling smile, taking the arm that her husband offered the two of them made their way towards the grouping of round tables draped in white tablecloths with what looked like china and crystal water goblets waiting for the guests.

He felt a gentle tug on his arm as Oliver held him back from the retreating backs of the Crawfords. “He has a seat on the Quidditch League board,” Oliver whispered in his ear, his breath warm against his neck. “Tends to have very strong opinions on the need for increased regulations for broom designers. His son was injured a few years ago when a levitating charm on an old Comet model failed during a little league Quidditch game. Thankfully the kid only suffered minor injuries, but he would probably find your broom statistics absolutely riveting.”

“They are riveting,” he whispered back, turning to face Oliver with a solemn look on his face.

“I am sure they are,” Oliver smirked, raising one eyebrow at his enthusiasm for broom regulations or perhaps his love of rules in general.

“Come on,” he gently took one of Oliver’s arms, pulling him towards the table where the Crawfords sat looking at them expectantly. “I have to go wow Mr. Crawford with my intimate knowledge of broom related catastrophes and what regulations can be enacted to prevent them.”

“Absolutely fantastic,” Oliver muttered, downing what was left of his wine. 

The two of them were seated at the same table as the Minister of Magic, the head of his department, the senior advisor to the Minister, and their spouses. Located near the front of the room he couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Certainly would make it easier for the other Ministry officials that he was supposed to be schmoozing to find him, also meant that everyone else was getting a good look at the two of them. Well, a good look at Oliver if he was being honest. He was just the guy sitting next to the famous and incredibly attractive Quidditch player. 

Mr. Crawford sat on his left and Oliver was on his right seated next to his head of department, Evan Quinn. He couldn’t help but be slightly apprehensive about this arrangement. So far Oliver had done wonderfully but they had several courses worth of small talk to get through before he considered himself truly safe from any career ending catastrophes. Not able to think of a legitimate reason why they should switch seats he decided to do a very un-Percy Weasley like thing and relinquish a little bit of control over the situation, not like he had much of a choice. Making a scene and demanding that several people switch seats so that Oliver wasn't sitting next to anyone that he worked with wasn't exactly the best way to make a great impression.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up, tapping his crystal water goblet with a butter knife. The sound rang throughout the room getting everyone's attention, the dull roar of soft voices hushed as people turned to look towards where Minister of Magic was standing. "Thank you all for coming," he began, putting his wand to his throat magnifying his already strong and booming voice. "We are happy to have you as our guests this evening and hope that you are having a wonderful time. Before we get started with our meal there is one announcement that I need to make. It is with great pleasure and a little bit of sadness that I announce the retirement of Evan Quinn at the end of July. Quinn has been with the Ministry for over forty years and his contributions to the organization are too numerous to bore you all with tonight. I will say that I have enjoyed working with you all these years and I know that I speak for everyone here when I wish you the very best in your retirement years. I yield the floor to you if you would like to say a few words." 

Mr. Quinn was met with a light smattering of applause from his colleagues and their guests for the evening as he rose to wave at them all. "Thank you, Minister. I have enjoyed my time at the Ministry of Magic. I started my career after Hogwarts as a cursebreaker before settling down with my lovely wife and joining the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. I slowly worked my way up to be the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Working with each and every one of you has been a true pleasure and I will miss all of you. Though sadly, not enough to stay for a few more years despite what rumors Minister Shacklebolt might try to start these last few months that I am here."

He got a few soft chuckles for that as everyone gave another round of polite applause, a starter salad appearing in bowls at each place setting around the room. Small talk at the table took a backseat for a few minutes as everyone focused on enjoying their salad and coming up to Mr. Quinn to offer their well wishes on his retirement. He and his wife had plans to move to the Isle of Skye to be near their adult children, something that he and Oliver talked at great length about. Oliver had grown up in that area of Scotland, his parents still lived on their family farm which had been passed down through multiple generations on his father's side. The two of them reminisced about the rolling hills and places that he had physically seen a few of but most he had only heard about through Oliver. Having visited the family farm a few times during his summer breaks he had been taken on several official sightseeing tours of the local sights, there were a few unofficial late night broomstick tours as well, but he thought it best not to mention those given his newfound knowledge about the Crawford's son's unfortunate accident.

The main course was slightly disappointing, though that might be because he recently had the pleasure of tasting Oliver's cooking. The salmon that the Ministry served was rather dry and the green beans were like limp noodles, something that he had whispered to Oliver leading to the two of them flashing each other conspiratorial glances while attempting to hold in their laughter. Thankfully Zara had not known what it was that the two of them had been snickering about so she found it endearing to see that he had found someone who could bring out a more playful and softer side of him. 

Something that she remarked on to the entire table, receiving nods and murmurs of assent that this was probably the happiest anyone had ever seen Arthur Weasley's third oldest son. His tone of voice held more affection than any of them had ever seen from him, and he seemed to just radiate warmth and contentment. 

He thought it was just a little bit of an unfair statement. While he might not be the epitome of humor and mirth, he wasn't completely devoid of such things, they had simply never taken the time to get the know the person beneath the stern exterior. Though he was immensely thankful that they couldn't see inside his head, didn't know about the trickles of regret for how he had treated his former best mate all those years ago. They couldn't see the unease that kept prickling at the back of his mind asking him over and over again why Oliver was here tonight. Why had he forgiven him so easily and agreed to this slightly insane plan?

All they could see was his pleasantly neutral expression as he nodded his head at them, assuring them that he was quite happy and had been for a while now. They didn't have to know that was all a lie. 

Thankfully Oliver didn't really contribute much to that portion of the conversation. Just sat there with his cheeks tinged a light shade of pink which only served to spur on the people sitting at the table. Remarking on what a cute couple the two of them made. He wanted to say something but found that he couldn't, this is what he had wanted after all. A permadate that would get people off his back about the need to meet someone and settle down. If it weren't for Oliver he wouldn't be sitting at this table, instead he would be towards the back of the room stuck with people who would be trying to set him up with anything that moved and looked single. Mingling into the shadows until everyone forgot that he was in attendance tonight. On Monday he would have to remind his co-workers that he had in fact been present at the party. None of that would be a problem this time, there was no one who wouldn't remember that Percy Weasley came to the Ministry function to announce the retirement of Evan Quinn.

He supposed that given the alternative sitting here and listening to people comment about how happy he looked with his fake date wasn't the end of the world. Even if it was just a tad awkward for both of them.

Dinner exceeded his wildest expectations. He managed to acquire a one on one meeting with Mr. Crawford next week to discuss his ideas on broomstick regulations, something that had caused Oliver to scowl half-heartedly at him. Even though as a professional Quidditch player he wouldn't be thrilled about the idea of increased regulations there was no denying that he was thrilled for his permadate who was well on his way towards proving he was deserving of a promotion. There had been a brief moment where he was afraid that he had been a little too eager in explaining his multiple ideas regarding improvements to the existing rules and regulations as well as new ones that could be imposed. Oliver assured him with a quiet sort of confidence that he had been bloody brilliant and there was no way that other people wouldn't be able to see that he had some spectacular ideas. As long as he promised not to take all the fun out of flying with his new rules. 

They were standing near where the dessert table was located, indulging in squares of various kinds of chocolate as they people watched. They had been playing a game where the two of them took turns trying to lip read people's conversations from across the room. It was something that they had done at parties during their time at Hogwarts and the familiarity of it filled him with a warmth that he hadn't felt in years. Oliver had of course approached it with his usual sarcasm and levity that he brought to almost every situation, some of what he came up with was simply ridiculous but had him in stitches regardless. 

Having finally calmed down from his most recent bought of giggles he watched Oliver swirl his fresh glass of wine as the curiosity at this odd behavior finally got the best of him. “Why do you swirl your wine around before you drink it?”

“Habit,” Oliver shrugged simply. “At the Quidditch functions they put a tasteless dye in the alcohol that changes colors when someone has added something like a love potion or veritusserum. We are required to swirl our drinks just a tad to see if there is a reaction.”

His mouth fell open in disbelief at that statement. “People actually do that? What in the bloody hell is wrong with the Wizarding world?”

“Oh yes, the love potion happens more than one would think,” Oliver nodded his head with an amused expression. “Could you imagine the scandal if some Quidditch player was photographed chasing after someone under the influence of a love potion?  The truth serum is so we won’t say what we really think about our teammates, captain, coaches, etc. That could also be a scandal waiting to happen. Not as common but has happened before of course or else they wouldn’t be so worried about it. ”

“You lead a very exciting life,” he remarked, suddenly feeling self-conscious that he wouldn’t really have any stories to entertain Oliver with. Not unless he found the new filing system that he implemented last year absolutely fascinating. 

“I am a regular James Bond," Oliver laughed with a wink at him as he took a sip of his potion free wine. 

He wasn't sure how to ask his next question. Having studied the effects of the love potion in school he knew that it could be a very unpleasant experience for the recipient. Like being under a spell where you vaguely recalled your actions yet had zero control over anything that you did or said. As someone who needed to have constant control of his life he couldn't imagine what having something like that coursing through his veins would feel like, forcing him to do things against his will.

“Have you ever been the recipient of a love potion?” he asked in what he hoped was an offhanded way. 

“Once,” Oliver nodded seriously, grimacing at the unpleasant memory. “Didn’t pay attention to the veterans my rookie year as the starting keeper and ate some chocolates that someone was nice enough to send me via owl. Spent an entire practice pining after someone named Veronica and then endured months of ridicule by my teammates who would routinely ask me how my new girlfriend was doing. I ate quite a few and apparently at one point sat down in the middle of the practice pitch cuddling a Quaffle and sobbing about how unfair it was that they were keeping me from my one true love. My teammates got a kick out of that, the managers not so much.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Oliver curled up on the Quidditch pitch holding onto a Quaffle and pining after some girl. “Can’t say that I have ever been under the effects of a love potion,” he choked out between fits of giggles. 

“Next time I get mysterious chocolates in the mail I will let you know. You can come over and find out for yourself.”

“I am good thanks,” he took some deep breaths to control his laughter. “I have read about the effects so I think I have a fairly good idea. I can always ask the twins as well. They sell the stuff.”

“I know,” Oliver muttered, with a dark look at his wine that he swirled around again just to make sure. “That is where the girl got the love potion in the first place. They got a visit from me after the league tracked down the source. Not that they cared that I was screamed at by no less than seven people for eating the chocolates or that I had to endure a private practice and training session as punishment.”

“Sounds like the twins,” he agreed, placing a sympathetic hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “More wine?” he pointed to the almost empty glass in Oliver’s hand.

Oliver's shoulder tensed slightly at his touch, quickly relaxing as he nodded his head. “If you are offering I certainly won’t turn down another glass.” 

“Don’t eat any strange chocolates while I am gone,” he quipped, turning around to wink at Oliver as he sauntered off to go fetch some more wine. Already several glasses into the evening he could feel the alcohol coursing through his veins lowering his inhibitions. Definitely would have to keep an eye on that, the last thing that he needed was to lower his inhibitions too much and say or do something that would jeopardize his career which was finally looking like it wouldn't remain stagnant. He was already drafting what he would say to Mr. Crawford next week in his head as he grabbed two new glasses of wine, swirling them around just to check. One could never be too careful. 

Turning around he practically ran into a woman in his department whose name was currently escaping him. Thankfully he had been paying a little bit of attention or he would have dropped both glasses of wine or at least spilled them all over himself. "So sorry, didn't see you standing right behind me."

"No worries!" the woman remarked, glancing over at Oliver who was watching them with his head slightly tilted and an amused look on his face.  “You two look so good together!” 

"Thank you," he replied, attempting to sidestep around her as she moved to block him from escaping this conversation. 

“I hope that I am not overstepping my bounds here,” she began with a chuckle and he braced himself. Usually when someone started a sentence with that, they were in fact about to overstep their bounds. “But, you two are just made for each other. I always know soul mates when I see them and the two of you are practically written in the stars. Everyone is talking about it. We have never seen you this happy before. You are going to end up marrying that boy. Mark my words!”

"I-"

"You know what you should do," the woman interrupted him, placing her hand on his arm and leaning in uncomfortably close. "You should talk to Rita Skeeter. People love a good tell all and I bet that Oliver Wood is fascinating, so private about his life normally. Rita is my cousin so I can get you the hookup if you are interested."

He felt his reply die in his throat at the mention of Rita Skeeter's name. The last thing he would ever do was talk to that vile woman, especially since she would want to know all about Oliver. Would twist his words to paint his former best mate in whatever light she chose. There was a distinct possibility that the light would not be favorable, not to mention the huge betrayal of trust that such as action would cause.

"No," the word came out viscously, he practically snarled it at her. Not caring who was walking past and overheard their conversation. She had majorly overstepped a boundary by suggesting such a disgusting thing as a tell all and to Rita Skeeter of all people. 

The woman's sickening sweet smile faltered for a second, looking briefly taken aback by his tone. "No need to get testy with me. I am simply offering you the possibility. It is such juicy news that it shouldn't be kept such a big secret. Let the cat out of the bag so to say."

"Hello Blair," Oliver's voice sounded from behind him. "Lovely to see you again. I am afraid that I must steal my date away from you. He owes me a dance."

Turning around his eyes practically jumped out of his head. For Oliver to know this lady's first name meant that he had several prior interactions with her. Flashes of this nosy woman showing up at various Quidditch functions to nag him into giving an interview ran through his head as he glanced between the two of them. Stepping a little bit closer to Oliver, who wore a small smile yet his eyes had a coldness to them that he had never seen. He suddenly felt an overwhelming need to protect his date from this woman and whatever it is that she had planned. 

“Think about it!” the lady sang as she scampered off leaving the two of them alone. 

“You looked like you could use the help,” Oliver shrugged, looking completely unfazed by the odd interaction. A sharp contrast to his date who was shaking with rage as the adrenaline left his body his knees started to feel slightly weak. Looking around for a nearby table to grab onto or a chair to sink down into to avoid hitting the floor. He didn't know how Oliver could stand stuff like that; it was borderline stalking. 

“I-"

“Come on,” Oliver led him to the dance floor which only had a few couples who were doing some sort of waltz. "Watch your toes. I have been know to step on a few in my time. On a broom I exhibit a dignified grace but on the dancefloor I resemble a hippogriff who is learning how to walk."

“No worries,” he laughed as he put his left arm around the slightly shorter man’s waist, resting comfortably at the small of his back and interlaced his right hand with Oliver’s left. Oliver draped his right arm around his shoulders, seemingly content to let him lead. “My toes are tough. Just don't think too much about the steps and you won't trample my poor feet.”

They started to dance in easy and graceful movements. Their feet taking control of remembering the steps which left them to be able to carry on their conversation. “Do you have any pets?” Oliver asked, as he tried not to glance down at his feet.

"Nope. You?" he asked as he led them around the dancefloor, trying to keep his mind off of his interaction with Blair. On Monday he would do some asking around to find out more about this woman and if she was going to potentially cause any problems.

“One cat. Her name is Niffler and she is black and white. You may never see her as she almost never comes out when other people are over.”

“Hmmm,” he thought for a moment as they glided across the dance floor, maneuvering carefully around the other dancers. “Would have thought you might have had a more Quidditch themed name for your pet.”

“I thought about snitch of course,” Oliver admitted with a small shrug, matching whatever movement he led with. “Since she is so fast and all. Then the little demon started stealing shiny things from guests and me. Niffler was the name that stuck.”

“My sister wants me to have a pet for company,” he said quietly, as though he was revealing some long held secret. “But I just don’t know if I am ready for the commitment. Seems like a lot of work.”

“You could always start out with a pygmy puff,” Oliver suggested with a teasing grin. “I hear those things are all the rage in Paris. Shall we spin?”

He nodded his head, giving Oliver a small spin which caused several people watching them dance to ooh and ahh over how cute they looked. Oliver leaned in close like he was going to kiss his cheek and whispered, “gotta give the people what they want. By the way the music at this party sucks,” he leaned back and winked at him. 

“Look around,” he whispered back, putting his arm around his waist again pulling Oliver closer so they could resume their dancing. “We are the youngest two people on the dance floor by at least three decades. What do you expect?”

“For the music selection to not be reminiscent of the eighteenth century,” Oliver cocked an eyebrow as though his reason should have been painfully obvious. 

Shaking his head he carefully avoided a grimace as Oliver missed a step and got his pinky toe. The sheepish grin on Oliver's face caused his gaze to linger on that smile for a few heartbeats before he resumed staring into his eyes. “Next time that you come to a function I will be sure to have them run their song selections by you beforehand.”

“That’s all I ask. I have some suggestions for the food as well if they are interested in really elevating their next little soiree."

Focusing his attention on anything but the warmth of Oliver's lower back and his calloused hand holding his as they waltzed around the room. He can't remember the last time that he danced like this with anyone. It all felt so intimate, the closeness of their bodies as they stared into each other's eyes. Terrifying but thrilling all at the same time. “I am sure that the Minister of Magic will be delighted to sit down with you and hear all of your recommendations for our next function.”

“He should,” Oliver inclined his head to the onlookers. “We are the most popular people here. I bet that the next time the Ministry hosts a party there will be a waitlist just because people want to get a glimpse of the two of us."

“I see someone hasn’t let the fame of being a pro Quidditch player go to his head,” he said warmly. 

“Quiet arrogance is a necessary evil in the Quidditch world,” Oliver said matter of factly, looking him in the eyes with a serious look. “You can’t convince others that you are the best if you don’t believe it yourself. So, especially while you are trying to work your way to the top you have to ‘fake it till you make it’ as they say. Of course, once you get to the top then your humility has to set in otherwise you just come off looking like a huge, conceited arse.”

“I can’t believe that statement actually made sense,” he was quite impressed with Oliver’s insights. They weren't completely untrue. He could certainly see how if you were trying to convince a sponsor to give you money when you were just getting started, walking into the meeting thinking that you didn’t deserve it probably would not work out in your favor. 

“Look at that,” Oliver gave him a small smile. “Turns out I am right two times in a year.”

“Never said you were right,” he quickly corrected. “I just made an observation that your statement wasn’t completely untrue. You simply stated your point in a coherent and well reasoned fashion.”

“Ah, I stated my point so well that you saw my side of things. Meaning that were we having an actual debate you would have agreed with me. Making my statement correct and thus giving me bragging rights for being right yet again.”

“Forget Quidditch player,” he scoffed, remembering suddenly how Oliver could win any argument that he set his mind to. “You should have become a judge or something. I swear you can argue with a stone wall.”

“McGonagall and my mother had similar trains of thought. They were convinced that I was wasting a rather unique talent. According to them I could argue with a castle wall and convince it to move out of the way for me. Of course I never really tested their theory. Mainly because I would have looked incredibly silly standing in front of a wall and arguing with myself. Didn’t want to have to undergo concussion testing.”

“You would have looked pretty silly,” he agreed. “This is a terribly long song,” he remarked offhandedly, unsure as to why Oliver was chuckling to himself with his eyebrows raised. 

“The band took a break about five minutes ago. I was just following your lead. Thought you knew.”

Sure enough, there was no music playing anymore as the two of them continued to waltz around the dancefloor, they were now the only two left and every eye in the room was on them. He could only imagine how this looked and what sort of rumors would be flying around the Ministry come Monday morning. He would come into to work to find that he was head over heels in love with this boy and set to be engaged any day. 

In an attempt to make it look purposeful he gave Oliver one more spin before ending the dance to deafening applause. Both of their cheeks tinged pink as they avoided eye contact at the realization that he had been so engrossed in their conversation that he had actually blocked out any outside stimulation, had they been actually dating it would have been incredibly romantic. However, given the circumstances it put an awkward cloud over their otherwise pleasant evening. Oliver ran a hand through his slightly curly hair causing him to freeze as his eyes followed the motion. 

He felt a stirring within him as though he was just beginning to wake from a long slumber. 

The two of them continued to dance for the rest of the evening, mainly because whenever they tried to take a break people would come up to them to push them back onto the dancefloor. They danced together until the party ended at 11pm finally giving them a reason to not be on their feet and the center of attention. As they left the Ministry, he was disappointed to see that it had once again started to rain. Taking cover under one of the overhangs on a nearby building Oliver made short work of ripping off his tie, dramatically holding it up in the air as if it was some sort of offering. "Glad to be rid of this thing! Felt like I was being choked all night." 

Rolling his eyes at his date's antics he shook his head allowing a warm chuckle to escape his lips. "I seem to remember a certain seventeen-year-old burning all of his school ties on the last night of Hogwarts in an overdramatic fit."

"Yes well- I still don't regret my actions," Oliver glanced over at him with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the two of them silently mused on the rather hilarious memory of Oliver dumping his multiple Gryffindor ties into the bonfire and doing some sort of ridiculous dance that he claimed would ensure that Professor McGonagall would never find out about the endeavor and punish him for it.  

"I also seem to remember a certain overdramatic speech from a former Quidditch captain about how he was done forever with those blasted ties. Claimed that he would never wear one again and would fight anyone who tried to make him."

Oliver gave him a teasing grin, that old mischievous glint lighting up those gorgeous brown eyes of his. "You clapped for that speech. Said I was a natural at public speaking. I also remember a certain head boy burning his ties as well that night."

"I only burned them because someone got me drunk!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger at Oliver who just rolled his eyes in response to the allegations which were being levied against him by his permadate. 

Scoffing at him, Oliver placed his left hand on his hip and his right hand that was holding the tie over his heart. He looked playfully offended at the accusation that he would ever force him to get drunk. "You were more than willing to help me drink that bottle of firewhisky. I also seem to remember that you opened the second bottle and were the one to suggest the bonfire in the first place."

"Well-" he faltered, trying to find a way to wiggle out of the fact that he had been slightly responsible for the idea of building a fire. In his defense to the two of them had been very bored that last night at Hogwarts, well on their way to getting drunk, and had needed an outlet for all of their post-NEWT stress. "That might be so but I just had the idea for one, you are the one who followed through with it."

"Only because I am the outdoorsman of the two of us. You would have been utterly useless at starting that bonfire at the back of the school. You did a fantastic job with the concealing charms though. Top notch. Really proved that you getting an O in charms for your OWL wasn't just a fluke."

"I could have made a fire if someone hadn't insisted on doing it the muggle way!"

His mind wandered to that last night of Hogwarts when the Gryffindor seventh years and several of their friends from the three other houses gathered around the bonfire. The blaze was fed with dried up leaves and twigs they gathered from the edge of the Forbidden Forest as the smoke rose into the night sky, when a breeze came along he remembered the way the smoke burned his eyes causing his throat and voice to be scratchy the next morning. The bottles of amber liquid that were passed around the circle, he of course partook because well- Oliver had asked him to and he could never tell that boy no. The way they had all laughed and laughed and laughed, until no one could remember what exactly they were laughing at.

He remembered other things about that night as well, things that he claimed the next morning to have no recollection of and Oliver played along, being the gentleman that he was had never really pushed the issue. At one point when they were all well on their way to getting black out drunk an owl hooted, the sound piercing the night and their subsequent shrieks of terror. The alcohol coursing through his system causing him to find comfort and safety in the lap of Oliver who just gave him a lopsided grin putting his strong arms around him pulling his close. He leaned back against the boy's chest, resting his head against his shoulder. Oliver never asked him to move in fact he had kissed the top of his hair, his temple, his cheek, until eventually his lips found his best mate's mouth who did nothing to stop the kiss. Quite the opposite, he had thrown himself into that kiss, leading to the inevitable. The two of them snogging each other senseless under the comfort and anonymity of the pitch dark just outside of the bonfire's warmth and light. Their first kiss, the second kiss followed nearly a year later when he let his pride stand in the way of what might have been his happily ever after.  

Oliver's train of thought seemed to be following a similar trajectory as his own. Clearing his throat his voice oddly hoarse all of a sudden. "I suppose that we should both be getting home. You probably need to rest up so you can have a spectacular game plan come Monday morning. I know how much you love your ten-year plans."

"Yeah," he rubbed his arm trying to come up with any reason to prolong this- whatever this was. "Unless..." trailing off midsentence he quickly abandoned his plan, there was no way that Oliver would want to just sit around and talk for a while. It was a stupid idea to begin with. 

"Unless?" Oliver asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a hopeful look in his eyes which were slightly downcast.

"Unless you wanted to come back to my flat for a cup of tea, maybe just catch up for a while."

"Yes!" Oliver said quickly, realizing that he might have seemed just a tad over eager at the offer of a cup of tea he paused for a second before continuing in a much calmer manner. "Um- I mean- sure, yeah. That- that sounds like an acceptable plan to me."

He found that he was smiling, the kind of smile that took over someone's face causing them to show all of their teeth to the world. "I can't cook very well but I do make a pretty great cup of tea."

"I will be the judge of that," Oliver quipped, that easy smile of his returning to his face now that they were past all of the awkward bits. 

Gazing into Oliver's stunning brown eyes he found that he was very much looking forward to that cup of tea. 

Glancing around his flat with Oliver casually lounging on his couch, his suit jacket and tie draped over the arm of a chair, he felt suddenly self-concious about the state of his personal affairs. It wasn't dirty per se, though it could probably use a deep clean at some point in the near future, just a little cluttered. He never really had visitors so the piles of books that were threatening to topple over with the slightest breeze from an open window hadn't seemed like a big deal before this moment. Now all he wanted to do was run around his flat and straighten the haphazard stacks and just generally tidy up everything in sight.

Normally he didn't really care about stuff like that and couldn't exactly pin point why it was bothering him so much, blaming it on the fact that he hadn't seen Oliver in a long time. In school his side of the room had been obsessively neat and orderly, not at all like his room at home which was always filled to the brim with books and pieces of parchment from discarded essays or study notes. Oliver had been the one who tracked in mud at all hours of the day and night and left his Quidditch supplies lying around. They were the only two boys sorted into Gryffindor their year so they split the room down the middle, though somehow Oliver's stuff would inevitably migrate over to his side of the room leading to a massive fight between the two of them which would always leave them not speaking to each other for a few days. Eventually they would make up and everything would be fine between them until the next time that he found muddy footprints or keeper gloves on his side of the room.

The two of them were sitting on the couch catching up on what the last few years had been like. He learned that Oliver had been to every single country in Europe, courtesy of the fact that he played for Puddlemere United. Depending on the length of the tour they would often get a few days to explore the surrounding areas, he found himself enthralled with his stories of being on the road. Of course he knew that Quidditch players could get a bit wild but he had no idea they were capable of some of things that Oliver regaled him with as he threw back his head and belly laughed for the first time in years. There were points in the evening that he wasn't sure he would ever be able to catch his breath again, his sides felt like they were going to split open.

His contribution to the conversation wasn't nearly riveting as Oliver's, he honestly hadn't been up to much in the last few years. Figuring that his guest knew all about his fallout with the Ministry right before the Battle of Hogwarts he didn't feel any need to mention that portion of his life. Oliver seemed to be in agreeance with this, tactfully sidestepping any mention of the war during their conversation which ended up lasting several hours. Something that he was infinitely thankful for, a small mercy since it kept him from having to confront the mistakes of his past when all he wanted to do in this moment is focus on the present and what would hopefully be a less tumultuous attempt at one day being appointed Minister of Magic.  

It felt nice to be sitting in his flat with Oliver. Familiar and comfortable with just the right balance of something yet unknown lingering on the edge of their newly rekindled friendship. 

"Would you like some more tea," he asked, pointing to their empty tea cups while discretely kicking a few loose pieces of parchment from a report that he was in the process of doing a rough draft outline for underneath the couch so his flat would give the appearance that someone who wasn't a bookish hermit lived there. 

Oliver shook his head politely declining the offer under the premise that any more caffeine right now would have him up half the night. While he didn't have a true practice in the morning he did need to try and get up fairly early to get a workout in at the Puddlemere training grounds. Apparently the team managers liked to keep a progress report on his stamina training and how much weight he was able to lift compared to last month. Watching Oliver stretch his arms he realized how muscular the man had gotten since he saw him last. Not that he was ever a small person but he had taken what little bit of baby fat had been left on him at nineteen and transformed it into pure muscle which rippled under the fabric of his button down.  

“I think tonight went well. The Ministry I mean and well-other things as well,” he stammered out, reluctantly pulling his gaze from Oliver's arms to avoid being caught admiring him again this evening. The last thing that he needed was to have his fake date think that he was looking for a friends with benefits arrangement. 

“I agree," Oliver said distractedly, leafing through a book that he grabbed off the coffee table. "You will be head of the department in no time. The general consensus among many of the guests tonight was that you were like a little social butterfly who had broken free from his cocoon. I am just glad they finally got to see what a wonderful person you truly are. Quite fun to hang out with if my memory is correct.”

Feeling his ears staring to burn at the compliment he quickly changed the topic so that he wasn't the focus of the conversation. “Yes, well… you were an adequate date tonight. More than adequate if I am being honest.”

“So I got the job then?” Oliver asked, raising his eyes from the book in his hands with an easy grin on his face. 

He rolled his eyes at the person sitting across from him who looked rather pleased with himself. “Yes, you got the job. Now stop sitting there preening about as if you accomplished some great feat by making the cut.”

“Didn't realize that I was in competition with any else. I hope that if I was that I blew the other candidates out of the water with my more than adequate opening night performance this evening. And by the way I do not preen," Oliver snapped the book shut, carefully placing it back on it's original pile. "So when is my next performance?”

“Oh, well... I guess the next time I will need a permadate is George’s engagement party to Angelina. Unless of course you have anything before then?” he desperately tried to keep his voice from sounding too hopeful that he wouldn't have to wait two entire weeks to have the opportunity to see Oliver again. 

Oliver shook his head at the question, a flash of regret in his eyes before he blinked it away. “Perfect. I am already going to that so I won’t have to clear my very busy social calendar,” standing up from the couch he checked his watch with a grimace. “It’s nearly two in the morning. I suppose that I shouldn’t overstay my welcome.”

He stood up as well, removing his glasses so he could rub his overtired eyes. “I honestly didn't even realize that it was that late. You haven’t overstayed your welcome,” he assured him, cleaning off his glasses with his tie before placing them back on his face. "Thank you for your help this evening. I do appreciate it."

“Happy to help, Percy,” Oliver said with a true sincerity to his words that caught him off guard. "See you in two weeks. Unless of course something comes up before then, you know where I live now and I am connected to the floo network."

He found himself frowning at that last statement as his head flashed through all of the safety precautions that someone like Oliver should really be taking. While being connected to the floo network wasn't a bad thing he certainly should just be allowing anyone to floo in. "You know- I could give you a pamphlet on the security measures that are offered with the floo network. Just so you don't end up with a crazed fan in your kitchen who popped by for dinner."

"Oh um-" Oliver suddenly looked rather apprehensive, busying himself with picking up his discarded suit jacket and tie. Fiddling with both of them to give his hands something to do. "I actually have wards around my house and have pretty tight security with the floo network. I just um- I never really- I guess I just figured that if anything were to ever happen to the twins or Harry or something that you know... I wouldn't want you not to be able to get in touch with me."

Feeling a warmth spreading in his chest, he quickly averted his eyes to keep from tearing up. The feeling was unusual for him, it wasn't unpleasant just unexpected and entirely new. The best way he could describe it was it felt like he was holding a steaming mug of coffee on a cool autumn day to his heart. The warmth thawing out parts of him that he honestly thought had long died off during the wizarding war. "Oh- well, I guess you don't need the pamphlets then," his voice sounded faint even to his ears and for a minute he wasn't even sure he had said the words out loud.

"I mean you could always drop the pamphlets off around six in the evening or so when I am usually making dinner. I need some new reading material and I might just learn something interesting about the advances in floo network security," with a small smile and a nod goodbye Oliver disapparated out of the flat leaving him standing in his living room with an odd feeling that he couldn’t quite place in the pit of his stomach. 

It was nice to get the opportunity to know Oliver a little bit better. He realized during their conversations this evening that he really didn't know who Oliver was in this moment as a man approaching his mid-twenties. Sure, at the heart of everything he was still the same loyal, kind, and slightly goofy boy that he had known all those years before but there was a certain air of mystery about him that he had yet to uncover.

They needed to give it some time and truly reconnect, allow themselves the opportunity to understand who they both were now as two men well established in their respective careers instead of two kids who were naively optimistic about what life after Hogwarts would bring. While tonight had felt at times a little awkward and strange, at the same time it had all felt so familiar and just so- right. Certainly the best first date that he had ever been on, even if it was all fake. 

Suddenly he wasn’t dreading having to face his family at the engagement party, in fact he found that he was oddly looking forward to it. There was still the matter of having to tell his family that he was gay but his experience with how well his co-workers had reacted to the news fortified him in a way that almost unnerving. 

Whatever was going to happen to tomorrow was going to happen. He was ready for whatever the day would bring. 

It was time to stop hiding a portion of who he was from his family. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t even know what we are. I don’t even know where to start but I can play the part. We say we're friends but I’m catching you across the room. It makes no sense ‘cause we’re fighting over what we do… but friends don’t look at friends that way. Friends don’t look at friends that way.“   Tate McRae -  That Way

He was curled up under his duvet enjoying a rare blissfully nightmare free sleep when he was rudely awoken by someone jumping on him. Swatting angrily at the offending source, he threw in a few kicks for good measure to hopefully deter his mystery assailant from their continued attack on his bedcovers. Which he was hanging onto with his dear life, just barely though.

Whoever it was had no respect for the sanctity of a person's bedroom or their need for a full eight hours of rest when they had been up until the early hours of the morning catching up with a former best mate. 

“Percy! Wake up lazy bones!” Penelope’s irritated voice was slightly muffled by the numerous layers of sheets and blankets. Deciding that his best mate could wait to speak with him until a more decent point in the morning he grumbled at her to just leave him alone for a few more hours as he snuggled in further underneath his obscene number of layers. 

Cocooning himself in a nest of warmth he breathed a sigh of relief as he attempted to drift back off to sleep. That was all ruined by Penny taking his covers in her fists and yanking them off of him in one swift motion, exposing him to the frigid temperatures of his bedroom. 

“What?” he asked angrily, still trying to grab his blankets back from his annoying best mate. “I didn’t get to bed until quite late last night if you care.”

“Ohhhhhhh!” he heard Penny and her fiance, Allison or Allie for short, exclaim as they both crawled over him to snuggle in his too small bed. 

Penny settled in directly next to him with Allie on her other side. Taking the blankets that she had unceremoniously removed from his person and laying them across all three of them, folding her hands daintily in her lap she reminded him of a queen about to call her court to order. Having known Penny for over ten years he knew that whatever it was she wanted to speak to him about would not wait, no matter how much he protested her presence in his flat. Not that his knowledge on the subject was going to stop him from at least trying to deter her.  

“Do you two understand the concept of boundaries?” he growled, burying his face in the pillow and wondering why he put up with this sort of abuse. 

“We just want to know how the big date with a famous Quidditch player went. Did you two have fun?” asked Penny interestedly, poking playfully at his shoulder. 

“Yes!” exclaimed Allie,, clapping her hands together. “Tell us everything. We want to hear every little sordid detail. Leave nothing out.”

Rolling onto his back he let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at his alarm clock his worst fear was confirmed. Nearly eight in the morning, far too early for him to be awake when he hadn't gotten to bed until well after three in the morning. He found that he needed to unwind a little bit after his evening of being social with his co-workers, he settled into bed to read a chapter or two of his new book before drifting off to sleep. Per usual he ended up reading nearly half the book before his eyes finally were so heavy causing the words to blur together that he had been forced to stop and get some much needed sleep. 

He had hoped to get a few more hours of rest before facing his difficult day ahead. Coming out to his parents wasn't exactly something that he wanted to do while sleep deprived. 

“Come on!” Penny whined, shaking his shoulder gently to get him to quit stalling. “We both have something to do this afternoon so we only have a short amount of time to have this conversation and take you to brunch.”

“Brunch?” he lifted his head to stare at the two girls curiously. 

Allie wagged her finger at him, a mischievous glint lighting up her green eyes. “Brunch in exchange for a recap of your date with the most handsome man that I have ever seen in excruciating detail. I mean if I weren't a lesbian, and already spoken for, I might just call up that fine specimen of a man up and suggest a dinner date.”

Penny snorted derisively, giving her fiance a look that suggested she would be doing no such thing.

Staring at the ceiling he tried to find a way to explain his evening with Oliver that wouldn’t give Penny any ideas that this could turn into more than just two people who were helping each other out of a tight spot. “It was… nice. Oliver did quite well with impressing my bosses and I am sure that I made some important connections last night. I hope that when I announce my intention to run for head of the department that it will be met with enthusiastic support from my co-workers-”

He halted in his recap of his extremely successful evening when he caught a glance shared between the two girls. “What?” he asked, as the two of them rolled their eyes, sadly shaking their heads at him. 

“Those aren’t the details that we wanted Percy,” Penny blinked at him slowly, a small smirk on her face as she looked down at him. “We want to know about Oliver, not your stuffy office mates and bosses.”

Allie leaned over Penny, putting her elbow on her name and resting her chin in her palm. “Does he have a four pack or a six pack? Is that last name of his any indication of what lurks in his nether regions?”

“Allie!” he cried, sitting up in bed. “It isn’t like that! I am not sure what Penny told you about my arrangement with Oliver but we are just pretending to date for a minute so I can get my family off my back. That and Oliver could use a decent date to some of his Quidditch functions. There will be no viewing of anyone’s abdominal muscles or any other body part normally covered by clothing.”

Allie just shrugged at him, dodging Penny's hand as she tried to smack her on the shoulder. "Weren't you both roommates in school? You can't tell me that you never saw his ab muscles at least."

He just sniffed, not dignifying her questions with a response. While he had watched Oliver's ab muscle development in school it hadn't been like that. More of an update by Oliver as he worked to bulk up his overall muscle mass and tone himself in preparation for tryouts for the professional teams. It wasn't his fault that Oliver used to come in the dorm and lift his shirt up to show him some new muscle that he had discovered, certainly wasn't his fault if he happened to appreciate his roommate's fit form all those years ago. More than likely since joining Puddlemere United he had continued to improve his already muscular body. Who could blame him if he happened to notice that he could practically see the muscles rippling beneath Oliver's shirt last night? Not like the man had worn clothes that downplayed how good looking he was. 

"Seriously," Penny said, halting her reprimand of her fiance. "Was he as nice as he was during Hogwarts?"

"Yes," he answered honestly. "He is still just as kind and down to earth as he has always been. It was nice catching up after all these years."

Penny nodded her head, lost in thought. "Planning on telling your family you are gay this weekend?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at him. "You know, now that you have been seen in public with a guy and all of your co-workers know your preference in romantic partners."

"This afternoon," he said quietly, hopefully everything would go according to his not well thought out plan. He really should have given it a bit more consideration. Gathered all of the family so he could just have one big coming out instead of a bunch of different ones. Perhaps he would have gotten a cake that said "I kissed a boy and I liked it," that was how Penny came out to her parents many years ago. Of course her cake said "girl" instead of "boy" but the concept was the same. 

“Have you considered therapy?” Allie asked in a serious voice, dodging Penny's hand as she reached over to smack her shoulder again. “I am serious! You have some deep rooted lingering issues with your entire family that you really need to work through with the help of a professional.”

“Why don’t I just focus on the whole coming out to my family part first. I will work through the rest of my issues at a later date.”

Patting his head Penny grinned down at him with a wink. "Been telling him that for years. Welp, come on. Get up. We need to get a move on if we want to eat something. You need a shower my friend and then we will figure out where we want to eat."

Half an hour later he was walking into the kitchen feeling much more refreshed now that he had showered and splashed some cold water onto his face. "Has the Daily Prophet come yet?" he asked, pouring himself a quick cup of coffee that Penny had made while he was showering. 

"No," his best mate's voice came from the living room, walking in he found her straightening up his numerous piles of books which were scattered about the flat. "Must be a late edition today. Wonder what sort of nonsense they are drumming up?"

"Usually some Quidditch player or something with Harry," he shrugged, sitting down in one of the chairs while watching Penny tidy up. The one thing he didn't have to worry about while fake dating Oliver was a scandal. For a player who was so popular he was surprisingly scandal free. Not that Rita Skeeter, and apparently Blair, hadn't tried to dig something up. "Speaking of Quidditch players. There was a woman named Blair at the party last night. Oliver knew her, though it didn't exactly look like friendly terms. She is cousins or something with Rita Skeeter. Do you know her?"

Penny's head snapped up at the mention of Blair, her eyes growing wide as she stared at him in horror. "You be careful of Blair. I would just steer clear of her. Whatever you tell her she will take to her cousin and twist your words. Your little fake date will find himself in the middle of a mess and that will not be good for his booming career."

"Planned on it," he mumbled, his hunch was confirmed. Blair was one co-worker that he did not need to get too chummy with. Considering that he hadn't even known her name was a good sign, they didn't often work together so interacting in a professional setting would be kept to a minimum. Any attempt on her part to get him to open up would be met with a polite but firm insistence that his professional and personal life be kept separate. He wasn't one for talking about weekend plans or anything of the sort so it would not be viewed as weird behavior on his part. 

The last thing that he would ever want to do was be the cause of some scathing article that drug Oliver's good name through the mud. 

"Are we ready to go?" Allie asked, finishing up the last of her coffee then placing the mug in the sink so he could wash it later along with the rest of his dishes. 

"Yes," he said, placing his own mug in the sink as well. While Allie knew about magic he was still hesitant to perform any around her that wasn't absolutely necessary. The Ministry had lightened up restrictions after the war but old habits died hard. He hadn't been brought up to fear muggles like many of the other pureblood families but he had been taught to be cautious of them. The statutes of secrecy had been drilled into his head and with siblings like the twins he had spent most of his younger years trying to keep the muggles in the village near the Burrow from finding out that wizards and witches were real when one of his brothers or sister flew too high. 

Working for the Department of Magical Transportation while hating most forms of muggle transportation was an irony that was not lost on him. The tube was particularly unpleasant, mainly because he was slightly claustrophobic. Thankfully the tube station near his flat wasn't crowded this Saturday morning and the compartment they ended up getting wasn't standing room only. He had ridden on a few before where people were packed so densely inside that the doors could barely close. His greatest fear was being stuck in such a crowded compartment when the train broke down in one of those dark tunnels. 

There would be no escape until they got the train working again. Nowhere for the massive amount of bodies to go, squeezing him until he felt like he couldn't breathe. 

Penny knew all about his fear, offering him her hand as they bumped along down the tunnel towards their stop. She needed to go to Gringotts so they figured they would just get some brunch either in Diagon Alley or at one of the muggle cafés nearby. 

Personally he was hoping for a muggle café so he wouldn't have to endure any sneers or whispers behind his back that always seemed to follow him wherever he went when he wasn't in muggle London. Wizards and witches apparently had long memories and had nothing better to do than to judge him for siding with the Ministry. No one seemed to take into account the fact that he had realized his mistake long before the Battle of Hogwarts he just couldn't safely do much about it. Working in deatheater overthrown Ministry had been like walking into a snake pit every single day, everyone was ready to eat you alive for any little violation or slight. Had his loyalty ever been questioned not only would it have put him in danger but also his family. 

The deatheaters would have stopped at nothing to hunt down and murder his entire family as punishment for his mistake of openly defying the Ministry. 

It had been for their own safety that he had stayed away for so long during the last year of the impending war. This was all made public knowledge at his hearing to clear his name of any war crimes but everyone would always remember him as the family traitor. That would probably never change. 

Watching out the window as the darkness sped by he felt a little bit silly having to hold his best mate's hand to keep from succumbing to a full blown panic attack. Thankfully most passerby's either wouldn't notice the two of them or just think they were dating. The train jerked causing him to squeeze Penny's hand tightly, suddenly quite thankful that he had the option otherwise he would be gasping for breath on the ground right about now. 

Once they were finally done with their ride on the muggle death trap they pushed through the thick crowds to finally make it to the streets of muggle London. Taking a long deep breath of the cool April air he felt his head clear and his chest was less constricted. Thankfully after brunch he could use the floo portal in Diagon Alley or apparate home to avoid reliving the experience of his tube ride. 

As Penny tapped the bricks to open up the gateway to Diagon Alley he watched Allie's face. No matter how many times she saw magic being performed either by her fiance or one of her friends it always brought a look of look of wonder and joy to her face. Reminding him of the first years at Hogwarts who would walk into the Great Hall with their mouths hanging open as they gazed around at the floating candles and enchanted ceiling. Thrilled to finally be at a school where they could learn magic. That had been his favorite parts of the Welcome Feast was watching the varied looks of awe on the faces of the newest students. 

"While you are at Gringotts I am going to pop into Flourish and Botts for a moment," he said, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. There were a few books that he had been keeping an eye out for and wanted to see if the bookstore had them in stock. 

"I will come with you," Allie gave Penny a quick hug goodbye. "Those goblins kind of freak me out and I feel a little judged for being a muggle."

"We don't have all day Percy," Penny called over her shoulder with a smirk at him. She knew that if given the opportunity he would spend several hours browsing the shelves at any bookstore he walked into.

It was a problem that he no intention of fixing anytime soon. 

Nodding his head he led Allie through the surprisingly thin crowd spilling out onto the streets from the stores that lined either side of Diagon Alley. Thankfully the bookstore was on the opposite side of the long street than his brothers' shop. The odds of running into them here were minimal but certainly not zero. In the past few years Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had grown to the point that even with two store front locations the twins no longer had to work every day if they didn't want to. He couldn't remember if Saturday was a day that they would potentially be in Diagon Alley or not. 

Running into them wouldn't be the worst thing in the world but it certainly wouldn't be his idea of a perfect morning. Especially if he was with Allie and Penny, he could almost imagine the amount of teasing that he would endure from his younger brothers if they spotted him with his old girlfriend and her fiance. 

Having browsed the sections where he knew the books he had been looking for in the first place might be located, he had moved onto aimlessly walking around the store looking for any book that piqued his interest. Allie was not far behind him, gingerly picking up the books with the ends of her fingers to flip through them. She had learned her lesson about magical books when she accidentally got ahold of the Monster Book of Monsters that Penny still had lying around from her days at Hogwarts. It was a funny story now, not so funny when he got a frantic early morning message from Penny telling him to come to her flat quickly and bring a book on fixing injuries with magic. Thankfully the wounds had been superficial, healing with no lasting scarring or a trip to St. Mungos.

The last thing they had needed that day was to have Allie's mind altered to not remember anything of her day, incidents like that were reported to the Ministry and would have reflected poorly on both of them. He would certainly not be in the running for head of his department with a blip like that on his record. Not to mention the whole emotional and mental trauma that it would have put Allie through, there was that to take into account as well. 

He wandered about trying to find a book that gave a detailed summary on the evolution of broomstick design in the past century. Figuring that if he was going to recommend regulations regarding travel by broomstick then he should understand a little bit more in regards to how the overall design and use of enchantments had improved over the years. He supposed that he could also ask Oliver, but he didn't want to impose any more than he already had on his life.

The more he thought about it the more unsure he was if Oliver had been serious last night about dropping off pamphlets. All signs pointed to no. His date had just not wanted to be impolite and turn down the offer of some additional information on floo network security. Something that he had already been briefed on and was probably up to date with the latest technology.

He wouldn't be dropping by Oliver's house after work for some dinner and fabulous conversation. That was not part of their permadate duties, not he would he be mentioning it to Penny. She would certainly push him to go over there with or without pamphlets.

Looking up he was aware that almost everyone in the store had been staring at him since he walked in almost an hour ago, whispering and nudging the people next to them. This was why he hated coming to the Wizarding world and would avoid anywhere where he might run into someone who remembered him as a traitor to his family and to the Order. One would think that after all these years that people wouldn't have such distinct memories of a choice that he made when he was nineteen years old and faced with a difficult decision and almost no facts. 

"You done sniffing these old books?" Penny's voice sounded from behind him. 

He didn't answer her question with a verbal response, just snapped shut the book on the evolution of broomstick design that he had been flipping through. Nodding his head he was eager to get out of this store where everyone was still giving him side glances. The only reason he had even stayed here was one because he wanted to browse the books like any normal person and two because Gringotts could take awhile and he didn't want Penny to have to search Diagon Alley for him and Allie. 

When he was done paying for his book he stepped outside to find Penny was frozen in front of a newsstand about four stores down filled with today's edition of the Daily Prophet. Penny had paled significantly, her mouth was moving yet no sound was coming out. Staring at him with wide eyes she was pointing at the paper in abject horror.

“What?” Allie asked, following Penny’s gaze she emitted a shriek and started jumping up and down. “Percy! Percy! You are front page news!”

“What?” he exclaimed, hurrying over to the news stand where the two of them were making a scene. That was when he saw it, right there on the front page of the Daily Prophet someone had plastered a picture of him and Oliver from last night. “WHAT?!?” 

Grabbing the Prophet he stared down at the headline that he was fairly certain would be the thing that ruined his life. Not in an overdramatic oh my goodness this small little mishap is going to ruin all prospects of a future kind of way, the real deal. He may never be able to leave his flat again after today. 

Oliver Wood of Puddlemere United Has a New Romantic Interest

Oliver Benjamin Wood, Puddlemere United’s star keeper as well as their newly appointed captain was seen on Friday night at a Ministry of Magic function with what sources say is a new boyfriend. The man in question is none other than Percival (Percy) Ignatius Weasley who is an employee of the Ministry of Magic in the Department for Magical Transportation. In the past Wood has been notoriously private about his love life and does not often allow himself to be photographed with potential or current romantic interests.... 

“I- what?- how?” he sputtered as his shaking hands gripped the Prophet until his knuckles turned white. The bloody article not only covered the front page but also two more pages. There were numerous photographs of the two of them at various points throughout the evening as well as detailed backgrounds on both of them. It was all there, his life story along with Oliver’s was now in almost every wizarding household across the UK and Ireland. 

He hadn't been paying attention when they went into the bookstore so it was impossible to know how long this had been in circulation. If it was only since he had been inside of Flourish and Botts for the past hour or so then maybe there was a chance he could still do some damage control. However, it was more likely that the paper had been circulated while he was stuck on the muggle tube considering the reactions of the people in the bookstore. Now it was all making a bit more sense. 

It had taken them well over half an hour to even get to the tube station near Diagon Alley from his flat. Add in another fifteen minute walk or so and one was looking at almost an hour just to get here. Yet another reason he didn't like muggle transportation, nothing was instantaneous. 

More than likely his parents would have seen this by now, his siblings, his coworkers, and Oliver. Poor Oliver would have seen this horrible and intrusive article. All he could hope was that the man would believe him when he told him that he had nothing to do with it, that he hadn't blabbed to Blair or to Rita Skeeter. 

No press was allowed at the party last night. How the bloody hell did that bitch Rita Skeeter not only get the photographs but also managed to get so many personal details on the two of them in such a short amount of time? Oliver’s part of the story he could at least halfway understand, as a famous Quidditch player you weren’t exactly afforded a lot of privacy. That was why he was so closed off about his love life in the public eye, it was the one thing that was still his when the rest of his life was common knowledge. 

“Bet you wish you had told your parents now,” Allie stated, scanning the article that had just ruined his life. 

“Allie!” Penny chided with a severe look at her fiance. 

“What?” Allie shrugged. “He probably does. No way they don’t know now. Not to be insensitive to your distress but are you sure that the two of you are just friends? Because this picture of the two of you dancing would suggest otherwise.”

He groaned, sinking down onto a nearby bench. Putting his head in his hands he tried to just breathe for a minute and figure out what was next. How could he possibly minimize the amount of damage that this article was going to cause in his personal life? Once he got that sorted then he would turn his attention to his professional life. Hopefully that would be the easiest one to deal with, everyone in his department knew that he and Oliver were "dating" now so it wouldn't be a huge shock. 

The first thing he needed was to reach his mum and dad. If he was lucky, insanely and unbelievably lucky, he could get to at least his parents before they learned of his big secret and the fact that he was "dating" Oliver from something other than the Daily Prophet. "I have to go to the Burrow... now!"

With a resounding crack he was gone before either Penny or Allie could say a word. 

Arriving outside the Burrow he tentatively knocked on the wooden door, pausing to hear his mother's typical cheerful response of "come in." After several long seconds of being met with nothing but silence he tentatively pushed open the door. 

"Mum? Dad?" he called into the eerily silent house as he made his way through the kitchen and into the living room. Looking around the cramped rooms on the main floor he didn't see anyone, it would be odd for his parents to be on the upper level of the Burrow but certainly not unheard of if his mum was in one of her deep cleaning fits. Walking to the bottom of the winding staircase he placed his wand to his throat to magnify his voice, calling out for his mum and dad a few more times only to be met with the same overwhelming silence. The only other place he could think to look would be the back garden, shuffling his way to the back door he peered out into the garden. Calling for his parents a few more times to no avail, the only things that answered his calls were the garden gnomes who waddled about with angry looks on their faces at being startled by an unwelcome intruder.

He made a mental note that he needed to come de-gnome the garden for his mum one weekend when he had a few spare hours. Generally he avoided the Burrow, only coming to required family functions where his absence would cause a fight with his parents that he simply didn't have the energy to endure. Unlike many of his siblings he didn't often drop by for dinner during the weekdays or pop round for a visit on a random weekend. Most of that had a great deal to do with the fact that his mother was relentless in her insistence that he have a romantic partner, add in the unresolved tension with his father from his abrupt departure from the family all those years ago and you had a pressure cooker situation. 

There had been several points over the years where the tension had reached the boiling point, of course he was always the one who had to apologize. Always the one who was perceived as being in the wrong, despite the fact that his parents were often the ones who poked at a sensitive issue that he didn't want to discuss. They didn't understand that the war had affected everyone in different ways and they all had their varied methods of grieving. 

He never mourned the way that his parents thought he should, before or after the war. 

Sighing heavily to himself he consulted the Weasley clock in the living room, which in recent years had been modified to include both Harry, Hermione, and Fleur (though that was only because Bill had threatened his mum with not bringing any potential grandchildren around to see her). To his immense relief everyone's faces were pointing towards 'safe'. In the years following the war the word safe had come to take on a new meaning for the Weasley family. Shivering slightly at the memory of moving back to the Burrow for a few months following the Battle of Hogwarts at his mother's insistence only to find her sitting alone in the dark late at night staring at the clock as if at any moment one of the hands would move to 'mortal peril' or 'injured.' 

None of them had wanted to think what would happen if one of their hands moved to a place that the clock could not follow. Fred had come close, thankfully he had made a full recovery in the end. Though, for awhile they were unsure if he would live or would have permanent damage as a result of his numerous injuries. 

Safe was good. Safe meant that even if his mum and dad has seen the Daily Prophet article that they hadn't gone too far off the deep end. It did make him slightly nervous that none of his siblings were pointing at 'home' which could mean multiple things. One of which meant that his entire family plus their significant others were currently trying to hunt him down so they could confront him over the news that he was both gay and dating a famous Quidditch player. 

Figuring that if they were all out searching for him then the best thing to do would be to just stay put, eventually everyone would make their way back to the Burrow and he could deal with the fallout then. In the meantime what he needed was some tea to calm his nerves.

While waiting for the kettle to whistle he sat at the kitchen table with a piece of his mum's homemade sourdough bread. Pulling out the copy of the Daily Prophet he rolled his eyes, biting into his bread he resigned himself to actually read the article in full. Before he disapparated he skimmed the article and a few key words had stuck out to him, but he needed to read it in its entirety to know the full extent of the damage. 

While he started his re-read of the intrusive article he found himself wondering if the phrase "the Weasley traitor" had been used when describing him. A term that had been thrown around extensively by Rita Skeeter in the first months following the fall of Voldemort. The articles and backlash from many people in the Wizarding World had been scathing, all of his flaws and past mistakes laid bare for everyone to read and draw their own conclusions for his internal motivations that led him to make the decision to turn his back on his family. It didn't matter that his relationships with his family were complicated and strained before the fight with his father or that he had spent his entire life being teased mercilessly by his siblings who constantly degraded and belittled him.

No one cared that before joining the Ministry he had grown up in the shadow of his two older brothers, everything that he achieved had already been done by Bill and Charlie. According to his siblings and several of the students at Hogwarts they had not only achieved everything first but had also done it better than he had. Joining the Ministry had been the first time that he felt like he truly lived up to his parent's expectations of him. His mum and dad had been so proud of him, that first day at the Ministry his father had met him for lunch then introduced him to everyone in the department where he had worked for years. Smiling at the warm memory of his dad's arm thrown around his shoulders, face lit of with pride and joy and he introduced his "brilliant son who was following in his old man's footsteps."

It had been a long time since his father had thrown his arm around him or talked about him with any pride or joy in his voice. 

Hearing the whistle signaling that his tea was done he put down the article to pour himself a cup. While waiting for it to steep he rummaged around the kitchen for some milk and sugar to mix in. It amazed him that while he hadn't really lived at home since he was nineteen he could still find everything that he needed. To his knowledge his mum had never changed anything in the kitchen, everything was exactly the same as it had been for his entire childhood. It was nice in a way, familiar and a reminder that somethings always stay the same even if everything else around them changes.  

Taking a sip of his freshly made tea he stared down at the biggest picture of the two of them on the front page of the Prophet, it had been taken sometime while they were dancing with each other. It was obvious why this particular one had been chosen as the feature, they did look good together. Both dressed in their finest suits as they waltzed around the dancefloor while looking into each other's eyes. He was smiling in the picture, no doubt in response to some funny quip that Oliver had just said. 

Squinting down at the article he tried to see if the band was playing or if anyone was in the background to better pinpoint when this particular picture was snapped. More importantly how was it taken in the first place? A mystery that he intended to solve first thing Monday morning, hopefully he wouldn't run into Blair before then. He had a few choice words for her and shuddered to think of what would happen if he didn't have a necessary cooling off period. 

He did have to admit though, it was a good picture of them. To any casual observer it might look like they were actually dating; something that would certainly come in handy once the two of them had to face his family, specifically his meddling mum. 

He could almost see what Allie had been talking about, to a casual observer it did look like they were quite happy. He also couldn't deny the fact that Penny's observation had some truth to it, he certainly did laugh more when he was in Oliver's presence. Which is probably why the picture was a stunning as it was. He never laughed, so getting a picture where he truly looked happy coupled with Oliver's brilliant smile and he could almost understand why people could be led to believe there was something more than just friendship between them. 

That was also something that he might need to clear up with Oliver when he saw him next. Lest Oliver get any crazy ideas that he wanted anything more than just a date to social functions and to make spending time with his family at least somewhat bearable.  

Assuming of course that Oliver didn't call the whole thing off because the drama just wasn't worth it. 

Glancing at the clock he saw that it was quarter past noon, everyone was still marked as safe which he took to mean that wherever his family was right now at least he didn't need to panic. Looking around the kitchen he couldn't help but feel slightly out of place. It had been several years since he was alone in his childhood home and he found the feeling disconcerting. As though he was somewhere where he wasn't supposed to be. 

What he needed was for everyone else to be exactly where they were supposed to be so they could get this over with. Where was everyone? Surely they would be back at the Burrow by now. Unless... unless they were all sitting at his flat waiting for him. Now that was a possibility. All of them had keys, though with wands the key was just a formality. A subtle reminder on his part that breaking into his flat just because was not proper behavior. Magic or no magic there were certain rules and regulations regarding unscheduled visits which needed to be followed. 

His family did not agree with that. All rules and regulations were out the window as far as the Weasleys were concerned. 

Stumbling out of the fireplace he looked around his small flat to see that it was surprisingly empty. No gaggle of redheads lounging on his furniture to greet him as he brushed the soot off his shoulders. The good thing, or the bad thing depending on how one looked at it, was that his flat was so small there was no need to call out for anyone. He was once again alone, which did nothing to ease his anxiety. If his family wasn't at the Burrow or at his flat then the list of potential other places was a mystery to him. 

Walking into his kitchen he tried to come up with a list of locations to check in order of likelihood. Bill and Fleur's was at the bottom of that list, his mum would have to very brave to drop in uninvited on her only official daughter in law. The twins shop was next on the list of the most unlikely, while his mum was certainly more amicable to the idea of the joke shop she did still have some rather underhanded comments regarding the twin's decision to leave school without graduating. Not bothering to take into account the fact that the two of them were the most successful of the Weasley siblings in terms of money. 

Perhaps Harry and Ginny's flat would be a good place to start then maybe pop over to Hermione's. If nothing else perhaps Hermione had at least heard from his family. The lack of scathing letters or howlers on his kitchen table was also cause for concern. That meant either they had disowned him again or they were simply too busy popping round to random places trying to hunt him down that they hadn't had a chance to send some correspondence quite yet. 

“Percy!” Oliver's voice hissed from the other room. “Are you home yet you miserable wanker?”

Wincing slightly at Oliver’s biting tone he made his way to the living room to see Oliver’s floating head in the fireplace looking highly annoyed at him. 

“There you are! Where the bloody hell have you been all morning? I have had the unique pleasure of entertaining your entire family for over two hours while trying to get ahold of you! And I do mean your entire family, including some people who are only honorary members,” Oliver was barely stopping for a breath and he just let him rant. It was the least he could do at this moment. “They didn’t know that you were gay by the way. Do you know how I know that fun little tidbit? It's not because you bothered to tell me. Oh no! It's because your mother has been sitting in my flat telling me all about it. In excruciating detail, I now know more about you and your childhood than I ever cared to. You get over here right this minute and you deal with this situation or so help me I will release bludgers while you are at work and have the twins knock them about at you!”

“Ok, ok,” he started to pace trying to stave off the impending panic attack. He could feel his chest tightening as his breathing became more shallow. "I will be over in a few seconds to round up my family."

"You had better!" Oliver continued to hiss in a low voice, presumably to avoid his family from overhearing their conversation. The mention of fake dating/permadate had been absent from Oliver's rant which meant that either he was not alone or his family could potentially overhear them. "When you come use the floo network and say 'Oliver Wood-guest entrance.' You and I need to have a private conversation before you get these redheaded menaces out of my living room. Your brothers are eating me out of house and home!"

With a click Oliver ended the call, his face disappearing from the fireplace. He could only imagine what sort of private conversation the two of them were going to have. Oliver was almost never ugly and it took a lot to make him angry enough to yell. Not just raising his voice, but actually yell. Having your fake date's entire family come over and make themselves at home in your flat would certainly qualify for a reason to absolutely lose your shit on somebody. 

Heaving a heavy sigh he threw down the floo powder. "Oliver Wood-guest entrance," he said in a loud clear voice. 

With a poof of smoke he was gone. 

Chapter Text

"All I knew the morning when I woke is I know something now, know something now I didn't before. And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes and freckles and your smile in the back of my mind making me feel like; I just wanna know you better know you better know you better now... 'Cause all I know is we said hello and your eyes look like coming home...All I know since yesterday is everything has changed."  Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran- Everything Has Changed

Stumbling out of a fireplace for the second time that day he was met with a rather annoyed and angry looking Oliver standing in front of him with his arms crossed, foot tapping the floor impatiently. "Oi! Nice of you to finally show up!" Oliver snapped, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of what looked like a loungeroom. Marching him down the staircase, he paused at the bottom of the stairs which opened into the main living space. "Just one second Weasleys. I am afraid that I have to borrow Percy for a quick little chat. You all have tea and a fresh round of snacks. We won't be long."

"Percy Ignatius Weasley!" his mother started to scold him, wagging her finger in his direction. 

"Won't be long Mrs. Weasley," Oliver promised, dragging him down a short hallway and shoving him in the room. "Just need one second. Got to sort out a few things then he is all yours."

Oliver quickly closed the door to his bedroom, waving his wand to place a silencing charm around the room. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that the twins had ways to circumnavigate such charms but decided to leave that conversation for another day. Right now he was quite angry with him and for good reason. 

Whipping around Oliver's eyes practically popped out of his skull as he faced him. “Do ye think this is how I wanted my first interaction with yer family as yer fake date tae go?” Oliver hissed, his Scottish accent incredibly thick with his arms flailing wildly like he always did when he was beginning to get truly upset. 

“I didn’t tell the Daily Prophet or Blair anything about us. I would never violate your trust like that, I swear to Merlin!” he insisted, trying to assure Oliver that this was not a coordinated attack of any kind. He was just as shocked as the next person to be standing here right now dealing with the fallout. “I was going to floo to the Burrow to tell them about the whole me being gay and you being my date to things this afternoon. The article just unfortunately beat me to it.”

All it did was cause Oliver to have a weird look on his face, caught somewhere between fury and confusion.

“I know ye didnae talk tae the Prophet,” Oliver waved his hand, completely dismissing the idea that he would ever do something like that. He had to suppress a small smile at the knowledge that his date trusted him enough after all this time to not seriously consider the possibility that he had divulged personal information to the media. “How could ye not mention tae me the whole 'yer family doesn’t know that yer gay thing?' I cannae believe that yer family had no idea and I have spent the past two hours being thrust into an incredibly uncomfortable situation.”

The silence between them was suffocatingly tense, it was as if the air in the room had suddenly become thick and difficult to maneuver. He didn't know what to say or what to do to make this better. His poor date who had been nothing but kind over the past few days had been burdened with the unique pleasure of entertaining his entire family all morning. He knew that he had screwed up by not telling at least his mum and dad before the Ministry function, preferably his siblings and their significant others would have been up to speed before news of them went public. 

There had been opportunities he had just not taken them for fear of a confrontation. His place in the Weasley family always felt tentative, one wrong move and he could be exiled yet again. Those years trying to survive on his own without any support from his loved ones had been some of the darkest and most painful times he could remember. Not exactly something that he cared to repeat. 

Finally the overwhelming quiet that settled over the room became too much for him to endure any longer. “I know. I know. I’m sorry! I will fix this, I promise,” he blinked back hot tears that threatened to fall at any minute. The last thing he needed was to start crying and make himself look even stupider than he already did in this moment. Besides, if anyone should be having a good cry right now it was probably Oliver whose left eye had previously been twitching ever so slightly. Something that only happened when his teammates weren't taking Quidditch seriously enough or when he was on the verge of potentially yelling at someone.  

Oliver didn't say anything, just walked into the adjoining bathroom leaving him to stand alone in the room with no idea what was going on. There was quite a lot banging as drawers and cabinet doors were being opened then slammed closed. A few minutes later the reluctant host for the Weasley clan appeared with a box of tissues, handing them over with a shrug. "At least take a few minutes to calm down. Sit down on the bed if you are feeling faint," Oliver handed over the tissues, all traces of anger gone just a highly annoyed expression was left on his face. His voice had lost some of the heavy Scottish accent that had been present a minute or so again, signaling that he was no longer on the verge of hysteria. 

Not that he could blame him, having the entire Weasley family show up to your flat unexpectedly was enough to make anyone want to pull their hair out and scream bloody murder. He should know, they did it to him often enough. 

Nodding his head, he gratefully accepted the tissues. Sitting down tentatively on the bed, he discreetly looked around the room. It was decorated in a similar style to the rest of the house that he had seen, the walls were dark gray with sheer white curtains on the large windows to the right of the bed. The bed linens were certainly good quality from what he could tell, varying shades of gray with no cat hair that he could see from the elusive Niffler that he had heard so much about last night. Probably hiding under the large king bed if it had any sense whatsoever. 

Something that he would like to be doing himself if he had the option. 

A few sniffles later he was feeling slightly better than before. Looking up he found that Oliver was watching him intently from where he was leaned up against the door frame. He almost wished that the other man would just start screaming at him, at least then he wouldn't feel so horrendously guilty for not telling his family and just assuming that everything would work out for the best. 

"Your family does love you. They just have a funny way of showing it sometimes," Oliver said quietly, concentrating on his socks to avoid looking at him. 

He could only imagine his family standing out in the hallway right now, probably talking about him in a way that would contradict Oliver's statement. Not wanting to face them for another few seconds he dabbed at his eyes a few more times, ensuring that he didn't rub at them. Something that he learned years ago when Fred or George would say something cruel and he would have a quick cry in the boy's lavatory stall at Hogwarts. Dab, don't rub. That way his eyes wouldn't look so red and it would be easier to hide the fact that he had been crying. Of course Oliver always noticed, he never said anything. Just looked at him with a slight frown on his face, occasionally a pat on the shoulder if he had been present when the incident took place. The next time Quidditch practice rolled around the twins would always come in muttering about their tyrant of a captain and Oliver would walk in behind them with a grin on his face and a wink in his direction. 

Time to return the favor he supposed. Walking over to stand by Oliver he looked at the door and sighed. "I will smooth it over with them," he promised again. More to steel himself before facing his family, specifically his mother, than for Oliver's benefit. 

“You had better,” Oliver said, unexpectedly shoving him out of the bedroom to face his family who were all milling about in the hallway waiting for their explanation. 

Hearing the bedroom door click shut he found that he was standing all alone with a pack of hungry wolves who were staring at him with mixed expressions. 

He stood frozen in place for a few moments trying to decide how likely he was to be hunted down and murdered in cold blood by Oliver if he just disapparated away. Perhaps he could just pop back into Oliver’s room and they could barricade the door shut, stay in there forever so he would never have to face his family. His mum would probably enlist the twins to find a way in and he was just a little bit terrified of his mum’s fury. 

There was the issue of work as well. They both had good jobs which they couldn't exactly afford to quit with no notice. He would have to leave this house sometime to continue his job at the Ministry. Certainly wouldn't put it past his mother to just show up at his place of employment to continue the family drama if he didn't take care of the problem right now. 

Now wanting to risk it he took a deep breath and met his family's gazes. His parents’ faces held a mixture of fury and bitter disappointment as they crossed their arms waiting for his explanation. Hoping that their obvious disappointment it was because of the situation in general and not because one of their children was gay, he took a few deep breaths to steady himself and stop his heart from trying to escape out of his throat.

“Um-” he hesitated, feeling as if his chest was about to cave in. “Mum, dad, siblings, and sibling in-laws there is something that I wanted to tell you and I thought that you should hear it from me first-”

His mum gave him the same look that she always used when one of his siblings had been naughty and was trying to escape accepting the blame, his dad raised one eyebrow waiting for him to continue, and the rest just looked highly amused at the situation. 

“I’m gay,” he squeaked out, ignoring the rather loud groan from Oliver who was safely behind a wooden door armed with a wand. 

“We worked that out for ourselves funnily enough,” Fred smirked at him. 

“Glad you finally decided to come out of the metaphorical closet though,” George put his hand in front of his mouth like he was trying not to crack up laughing. 

“Bought time if you ask me,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I was beginning to think that you were just going to die alone.”

“Ronald!” his mum snapped at his youngest brother. “Quiet all of you, we are in the middle of dealing with a family crisis right now.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call this a crisis,” he muttered, looking down at his feet to avoid his mother's stern gaze. 

“Really?” his mum asked testily. “You wouldn’t call having the Daily Prophet tell me my third oldest son is not only in what appears to be a serious relationship with some famous Quidditch player but that he is also gay a crisis. What would I have done if I had met someone that we know before I saw the Prophet? I would have been blindsided! What am I going to tell the women that I wrote to; asking them if they had any daughters, granddaughters, nieces, or cousins that might be interested in dating you? I had quite a few responses, several of which would make a lovely wife for you. What am I to do about that?”

Well, if she had listened to him when he told her that he didn't want to be set up then that particular issue wouldn't exist. Of course he wasn't going to say any of that right now. He might be just a little bit dumb but he certainly wasn't stupid. “I was going to tell you today,” he replied, avoiding the question about what his mum was going to tell her friends from her attempt at starting a wizarding dating service. “I swear.”

“I thought we had moved past the secrets, Percy,” his dad said with a quiet sadness in his voice that constricted his chest. “I thought we agreed to be more open with each other moving forward. No more secrets, that was what we agreed upon after the war.”

He couldn’t say anything in response to that. They had said no more secrets, agreed to be more open and honest with each other moving forward. He had not divulged one of his longest kept ones and he couldn't exactly tell them the truth about why. No one wanted to hear that he had been terrified they would disown him again if they knew that he was gay.  

“How long?” his mum asked, shaking her head with a hand over her heart like she might faint at every moment. “How long have you been sneaking around with some random boy?”

He felt the anger rising at his mother for how she phrased the question. Her voice had gotten quieter at the end of the sentence, practically whispering the word 'boy.' It was hard not to take offence to that, he couldn't help but wonder if she would be this upset if he had kept a girlfriend as a secret for a while or if it was simply because he was in a relationship with a boy. Albeit a fake one but his family wasn't going to know that little detail. “Three months and we haven't been sneaking around. I just didn't want my sexual preferences or personal life to interfere with my job. While the Ministry is certainly more tolerant recently there is still quite a bit of homophobia. I am trying to move up the career ladder and who I date shouldn't be of concern to anyone that I work with." 

His mum gripped his father's shoulder as though she needed some additional support just to remain upright. “Three! You mean to tell me that in three months you couldn’t find two minutes to sit down and have a conversation with us to tell us all of this? Three months of going behind our backs to date some boy who none of us were aware that you were even on speaking terms with. Inviting him to a Ministry function before you told your own mother! What sort of phase are you going through right now? How could you do this to me? Gay! You are gay and dating a Quidditch player. Our family is now going to be in the spotlight because of your relationship. Four months until your little sister's wedding and it isn't her and Harry who are front page news, but rather you and the random person you are supposedly dating.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something about he didn't exactly mind the fact that he wasn't front page news. The kid had enough of being thrust into the spotlight during the years leading up to the second wizarding war, right now he was perfectly happy to have a life that was free of featured articles in the Daily Prophet. Ginny shook her head, placing her hand on Harry's shoulder to keep him from getting too involved in the drama between him and his mum. 

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” 

“Molly dear,” his dad soothed, putting an arm around his mother’s trembling shoulders. “What’s done is done. We just need to move forward. One day at a time. Remember? That is the new Weasley motto.”

“Three months Arthur,” his mum shook her head, disbelieving that her son could keep something like this from her. “Three months he has come to Sunday dinners and sat at my table. It wasn’t like we didn’t broach the topic of relationships during that time. Merlin knows how many years that he kept it from us that he likes boys. I have been made a fool by my own son! My own flesh and blood!”

“It's a newer thing actually,” he said simply. “I thought I was mostly straight for years before finally realizing why I never wanted to kiss my girlfriend. Neither Penny nor I wanted to come out in school and we weren't even sure what our sexualities were at the time. It wasn't until after Hogwarts that I came to the conclusion that I was gay.”

“Well, there you go!” his dad grinned trying to lighten the mood. “See, we are communicating better already.”

His mum pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Arthur please-”

“Percy,” his dad now had a grave seriousness that was more in character with his wife or his third oldest son. “Making light of the situation aside, this was very unkind of you. Not only did you blindside your family but also the boy that you are seeing. We just dropped in on him out of nowhere trying to find you, effectively ruining his Saturday. Now he is being forced to hide in his room in his own flat so we can deal with our family drama.”

He nodded his head, his face burning in shame from his ears all the way down his neck. He knew that he had really screwed this whole thing up. Oliver didn’t deserve to be treated this way. It must have been horribly uncomfortable to sit with his family for so long while they probably asked intrusive questions and he had been polite and courteous about the whole situation.

“You will be at Sunday dinner tomorrow night,” his mum commanded in a tone that left no room for argument. “We will be discussing this matter further.”

“Bring your-” his dad seemed to hesitate on what to call the boy who was still hiding in his bedroom. “Oliver. He seems like a truly lovely man from I have heard and seen this morning. I have some lingering questions regarding that magical black box with the muggle people inside that I can't quite figure out where they are coming from.”

His mum did not look thrilled with that idea of Oliver joining them for Sunday dinner but refrained from voicing her opinions. Presumably Oliver could hear them and his mum wouldn’t want to further hurt the boy’s feelings by making him feel unwelcome. His siblings and their partners were all nodding their heads at this idea. Many of them had played Quidditch with Oliver during school or currently played against him professionally. They all had a manic glint in their eyes and he could see that they were just imagining the game of Quidditch they could play in the garden of the Burrow. 

“Come Weasleys!” his dad called, herding everybody to the fireplace. “We have intruded enough for one day.”

He heard the door open beside him and glanced over out of the corner of his eye to see Oliver’s head peeking out into the hallway. “Goodbye Weasleys,” Oliver called down the hallway in an uncharacteristically meek voice. “Do come by again. You are always welcome.”

He groaned inwardly. Oliver had always been kind and courteous to a fault and now was no exception. Somehow it would make this easier to deal with if Oliver would have screamed at him, calling off the fake dating plan and kicking him and his family onto the street. Instead he was inviting them back at a later date

“Goodbye Ollie,” cooed George, batting his eyelashes and receiving a smack on the shoulder from Angelina who looked generally pissed off. 

“You were a real champ today,” Angelina gave Oliver an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. Glancing briefly at him with glare which suggested she wanted to bare her teeth at him, throughout the years she had remained good mates with Oliver crediting him with the encouragement that she needed to try out for the professional teams.

He knew that she would protect Oliver above all else. Not caring that it would be against her future brother-in-law. 

“Yes, you my dear boy are a real keeper,” Fred had a wicked grin on his face and several people groaned at his bad pun.

“Goodbye Oliver,” said Harry politely with an apologetic smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Yes,” agreed Ginny, putting her arm around her fiancé's waist. “The tea and sandwiches were lovely.”

“You will have to give me that recipe for the dip as promised,” Hermione said with a small smile, her eyes silently wishing the best of luck dealing with Mrs. Weasley tomorrow night.

“Nice to see you after so many years kid,” Bill grinned at him. Not that Oliver was much of a kid anymore but he supposed when you hadn't really seen someone since they were twelve that was sort of how you would always view them. A skinny kid who was your younger brother's best mate for eight years. 

“I will see you tomorrow for lunch and you and Percy will have to come over for dinner like we discussed,” Fleur said in her thick French accent, causing his head to snap around to Oliver with a confused look. All Oliver did was shrug at him as if lunch with Fleur was the most natural thing in the world. 

“See ya,” Ron said simply with a wave goodbye. 

“Lovely to meet you, honestly. I look forward to getting to know you better,” Mona nodded her head with a sincere look. 

Ron put his arm around his girlfriend's waist as the two of them headed to the front door. Mona being a muggle meant that the two of them would have to use the tube or catch a taxi back to their flat. Well, Ron's flat as far as their mother was concerned. The two of them weren't quite ready for the matriarch of the Weasley family to know that they were shacking up together before marriage as she called it. Their mum was quite old fashioned when it came to stuff like that. 

His mum was the first to leave via the floo network, without so much as a glance in the direction of her third eldest son. With a flash of light she was gone back to the Burrow, no doubt to rant about her children. His father gave him a look that suggested he wasn't exactly pleased with the direction the rest of his day was going, as far as he was concerned there was no one better to deal with his mother's rages than his patient father. The next to leave were Bill and Fleur followed closely by Hermione, who looked a little hesitant to leave ultimately deciding that whatever was going to be said between him and Oliver was not for her to witness.

For that he was thankful, the possibility of Oliver screaming at him was not off the table quite yet. Currently his fake date was leaned against the wall looking rather stunned. Not that he could blame him, the Weasleys were a lot to handle when you knew they were coming over. 

The others were standing near the fireplace communicating through a series of complicated eye movements, head tilts, and arm waving. Not a word was being spoken yet it seemed as if they were coming to some sort of collective agreement.

"Goodbye Oliver," the twins said together, waving their hands at their former captain as if they were in one of those muggle movies where the people were standing on the dock waving goodbye to their loved ones as they sailed off to sea. 

"Do bring your practice broom tomorrow won't you?" asked Fred with a grin, his eyes betraying the fact that despite his apparent amusement at the situation that he was just a little bit worried about his friend. "A rousing game of Quidditch will take that haunted look out of your eyes and put a smile on your face."

"We do so miss being yelled at by you when we aren't taking Quidditch seriously enough. It will be like old times," said George with a matching grin, also giving Oliver a critical once over. A few seconds later a loud crack rang throughout the flat and the two of them were gone. Apparently whatever was about to happen didn't involve them. 

Without a word Angelina began to gather up the saucers and plates which were scattered about the living room, Ginny was busying herself with fluffing up the pillows on the sofa and other tidying up activities, and Harry just stood there awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. 

"You good?" Harry asked, more to Oliver than him. 

"I am fine," Oliver replied, though he didn't exactly appear fine. A little stunned and overwhelmed maybe but certainly not fine.

Harry didn't seem convinced either, rubbing the back of his neck he seemed to be struggling with the choice of dropping the subject or pushing for an actual conversation. The choice was made for him when a loud sound came from the kitchen. Wincing at Angelina's treatment of his dishes Oliver mumbled a flimsy excuse about making sure she didn't end up breaking something, pushing past him he made his way into the kitchen. 

The look that Harry gave him suggested that him following Oliver into the kitchen was out of the question. With a huff Harry scampered after his former Quidditch captain to ensure that he was in fact all right after his morning had taken a rather unexpected turn. He could hear hushed voices coming from the kitchen but couldn't make out exactly what was being said between the three of them. 

"It's not fine Oliver!" Angelina's voice was quite clear now. "Quit being such a bloody pushover and start asserting some boundaries! Off the Quidditch pitch you are about as intimidating as a golden retriever wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket."

"Angie come on," Harry pleaded on behalf of Oliver, who was in fact quite the pushover. "It was Molly after all. She simply wouldn't leave. What exactly was he supposed to do?"

He heard Angelina snort at Harry's statement. "Not feeding my boyfriend snacks when he and his idiot twin said they were hungry comes to mind as an option. The other one would be to tell Molly that she was not welcome to sit in his flat bemoaning the fact that her son is gay right in front of him. How insensitive can you be to say stuff like that in front of someone who has openly come out as gay?"

"You did that enough for the both of us," Oliver muttered. 

"Well somebody had to!" Angelina yelled, slamming her hand down on the counter. "I certainly wasn't going to sit there and let her insult you like that. The only reason why Harry and I even stayed was so you wouldn't be left hanging by yourself. Hermione had no business being here at all today and her allowing Molly to drag her into this was absolutely ridiculous. My boyfriend's parents were completely out of line today and I plan to inform his mother of that at dinner tomorrow night."

"Please don't," Harry groaned. "I have to do some wedding stuff with her and Ginny next week and I can't deal with a difficult Molly making her daughter want to scream and strangle her mother."

Ginny had finished picking up the living room and walked into the kitchen with the others. "We should probably go dear," she suggested to Harry. "I am sure that Oliver and my brother have a few things to discuss and I believe they would like to do so alone." 

"Assert boundaries Oliver," Angelina stated again, coming out into the main area where she glared at him. "You can start practicing this afternoon."

"I told you it's fine," Oliver mumbled, leaning against one of the walls with an exasperated look on his face. "Besides, this gives me something new to talk about in therapy. It was beginning to get boring just rehashing the same old trauma. About time I added something different to the mix."

Harry snorted a little, quickly ducking his head when he received a death glare from Angelina. "Don't make light of this situation. It was not ok what that woman said to you today and I will not stand for it," Angelina said, giving Oliver a goodbye peck on the cheek. Tucking a few pieces of his hair behind his ears with a fond look. "Will not stand for it!" with a crack Angelina disapparated from the flat. 

"I feel a little sorry for George," Ginny smirked. "He is about to have a very loud afternoon when Angelina gets her hands on him."

"Speaking of loud afternoons," Harry said with a sympathetic look in Oliver's direction. Patting him affectionately on the shoulder before giving him a quick side hug. "We should be getting back to our previously scheduled Saturday."

"See you both tomorrow night," Ginny said, glancing between the two older boys. "Do try not to forget your practice broom Oliver, I am looking forward to trying out some new ways to get the Quaffle past you."

Oliver just gave her a bored look, shrugging his shoulders. "And I am looking forward to driving home the point that you will never get a Quaffle past me. Perhaps our last game against each other wasn't sufficient evidence enough, have to come back for round two," cracking a grin at Ginny he gave her a teasing wink which caused her to roll her eyes and Harry to try and hide his amusement at their light banter.  

"Jackarse," Ginny muttered, suppressing a grin of own as she grabbed Harry's hand dragging him towards the fireplace so they could floo to their flat. 

"Try to have a good day Oliver," Harry said, before throwing the powder down and disappearing from view. 

He stood there in silence with no idea what to say to Oliver in this moment. Of all the places he thought his family could have been Oliver's house was not one of them, there was no amount of 'I'm sorry' that could possibly make this better. "You go to therapy?" was what ended up coming out of his mouth. 

"Yes," Oliver said simply. "You should maybe look into as well. Might help with your default coping mechanism of shutting people out of your life and avoiding any type of confrontation as if your very existence depended on it."

There really wasn't anything that he could say in response to that comment. Oliver wasn't wrong. When his father forced him to choose between the Ministry and his family he had run away, he had run away from his feelings for Oliver all those years ago, he ran from anyone who even showed the slightest bit of interest in him romantically. He had pretty much been running ever since he graduated from Hogwarts.

While working at the Ministry it became clear that if he were to ever reconcile with his family that he would be expected to spy on them and on Harry. Reporting on his family and the Order's movements to the deatheaters who murdered Minister Scrimgeour and infiltrated the Ministry, saying no to them was not an option. He willingly stayed an orphan of sorts. Unable to go home to the family that had once loved him. Becoming so accustomed to the silence of his own flat that the constant chatter of the Burrow was almost suffocating at times. Compartmentalizing was something that he did simply to survive; thoughts, emotions, needs, everything was separated because for several years that is what helped keep him and his family safe. Putting all of that back together again was difficult. Something that his mother never could understand. 

It wasn't that he didn't love his family, he just had no idea how to show them anymore.

Their love was no longer unconditional and he was at times unsure which confrontation would potentially cause him to be exiled once again. His mum and dad had made it quite clear to him after the war that if he wanted to be a part of the family again that he would have to play by their elusive rules. 

"Are you hungry?" Oliver asked, not waiting for a response before he walked into the kitchen. 

"You don't have to do that," he insisted, finally moving from the spot in the hallway where he had been frozen for the past few minutes to follow Oliver into kitchen where he found that the other man had already started preparing himself lunch. 

Not bothering to turn around to face his guest he just kept pulling things out of cabinets and the refrigerator. "Cooking soothes me," Oliver muttered, through gritted teeth. 

Neither of them spoke for several long minutes. He didn't necessarily want to be any additional bother, but he hadn't really eaten anything all day. His brunch plans were ruined by the appearance of the article and all he had while waiting for his parents at the Burrow was a piece of sourdough. The gurgling in his stomach stopped him from making an excuse to leave for the safety of his own flat. 

"Is the article going to be a problem for you?... Professionally?" he clarified, sitting down at the table. 

"No," Oliver said simply, focusing on adding the pasta as he brought the water to a boil. "My teammates told me when I came out publicly as gay that they didn't care who I slept with as long as I kept blocking those Quaffles. My managers were a bit of a different story, all of them are older and don't believe in the whole 'gay thing' as they called it. Thankfully my popularity among fans skyrocketed with the news so the sponsors didn't drop me. Saved my career, otherwise I would have been demoted to second string or even dismissed from the team entirely. Once you are dismissed you are blackballed by every professional team in the league."

There was more to the story, things that Oliver wasn't saying at the moment. He wanted to push, to get him to tell him more about what his managers did and said but he didn't want to upset him right now. It did make him worry though, would his presence at the Quidditch functions be a problem for Oliver?

Assuming of course he doesn't kick him out of his house and tell him the deal is off. That he can find himself another date to family functions. 

"That was a really shitty thing to do to me."

"I know," he said softly. "I really am sorry. I was just scared to tell my family that I was gay. No one in my family had ever come out as anything but straight. I am sure that there were others before me but none of them ever made it well known."

Oliver turned around, staring at him with a expression that was difficult to read. "I get that, trust me when I say that I understand. I'm not mad at you for not telling them, I am mad at you for not telling me that you didn't tell them. If we are going to do this whole fake dating thing then you have got to communicate with me about this kind of stuff. I was completely lost as to what was going on when your mum and dad just showed up looking for you followed by the rest of your family and friends. Imagine how stupid I looked when I had no idea that you hadn't told them you were gay. How are we supposed to convince your mother that we are dating when I didn't know that you hadn't told them?"

"It was a really shitty thing to do to you," he agreed. 

"Glad we are on the same page again."

There was one question that he needed to know. He had hoped that his mum had only been ugly about him but from what he overheard from Angelina he feared that perhaps Oliver had received a bit more venom than he ever deserved. "Was my mother cruel?" 

"Yep," Oliver said curtly. "That woman can cut you off at the knees with just her words."

"I will talk to her in private and let her know that she needs to tone it down and leave you alone," he promised.

Oliver set down two bowls on the table along with some bread. "Will you?" Oliver asked, raising one eyebrow. "From what I heard from the others you have issues standing up to your mother. Apparently she sent out owls recently to find you a woman to date and you didn't exactly put your foot down hard enough to deter her."

He couldn't exactly argue with that assessment. He would of course talk to his mother but likely it wouldn't do any good. She would dismiss his concerns over her treatment of Oliver and somehow turn everything back on him. "What is this?" he asked, pointing at the pasta in an attempt to change the topic of conversation. 

"Spaghetti Bolognese," Oliver replied, dipping his piece of bread in the sauce. "I made the sauce last night so I wouldn't have to cook much after my weekend workouts."

Taking a bite, his eyes widened at how delicious the meal was. "This is absolutely incredible," he complimented, shoving a huge forkful in his mouth. Not caring if he look dignified or not, all he cared about was devouring the entire bowl. 

"I know," Oliver grinned at him. "I am an excellent cook."

They ended up talking until long after lunch ended. He had tried to apologize more for the confrontation with his mother that he had unknowingly dragged his fake date into, but when he was told to drop it he decided to respect Oliver's wishes. They would most likely get the opportunity to rehash everything tomorrow night during Sunday dinner, he knew for certain that Angelina was not going to take any slander lying down. For whatever reason Oliver was intent upon going to dinner, despite assuring him repeatedly that no one would blame him for not coming. He would cover for him so that he wouldn't be forced to hang out with his family two days in a row. He figured it was probably because Quidditch was going to be involved. If the twins were good for anything it was ensuring that a Quidditch game was present when there were enough Weasley's and guests in attendance to have two semi-equal teams. 

There was going to be an epic fight tomorrow night over who got to be on a team with Oliver and he could only hope that it didn't cause a Weasley war. 

In the end they spent several hours picking up where they left off last night. From the end of April until the first part of May Oliver was going to be touring in Germany, he had been filled in on some of his past trips to the country along with all of the spots that he wanted to either visit for the first time or revisit. This would be his first time on tour as the captain, even though he never came out and said it the implication that he needed to prove himself as a capable captain was there in every word that poured from his mouth. 

"It all sounds so exciting," he tried to keep the envy out of his voice. Oliver was about to travel all over Germany and see many of the sights that he read about in his muggle history books. He longed to travel to other countries and see the things that he had spent years learning about yet never seemed to find the time to actually visit in person. His own life was certainly a far cry from the glamour of being a famous Quidditch player, of course there was a downside to living that lifestyle as well. 

"It is at times," Oliver agreed. "The one upside to being captain is that I no longer have to share a suite with the two beaters. We aren't allowed to use magic so I have a hard time sleeping with their snores making the walls shake."

He snorted at the image of Oliver laying in a bed watching the walls quiver with the sheer force of his teammate's snores. Having grown up with Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron he was certainly no stranger to the concept of being woken up in the middle of the night by the snores of someone who wasn't even in the room with you. That had been the best thing about turning seventeen, soundproof charms that finally allowed him to get a good nights rest. 

"It's not funny!" cried Oliver. "When we were in Russia I worried for their safety. They sound like two hungry bears. I was terrified someone was going to break the door down thinking we were about to be mauled to death."

Tears of laughter were streaming down his cheeks as he watched Oliver's mouth twitch into a grin at the thought of someone barging into their room in the middle of the night to save them from a non-existent bear. "Were bears something that you needed to worry about?" he asked, once he had gotten himself back under control. 

Oliver nodded his head, a serious expression setting over his face. "Yeah actually. In several countries when we stay near a forest we have to stay vigilant for any wandering bears. I had to stay vigilant to keep my idiot beaters from trying to sneak out at night to go wrestle one. That was our biggest concern, not so much protecting ourselves from the bear but protecting the bear from those two dunderheads."

"Sounds like two other beaters that I know," he muttered, his twin brothers would 100% try to wrestle a grizzly bear if ever given the chance. Thankfully the UK was not know for their abundance of wild bears. 

Taking a sip of his tea Oliver gave him that signature grin of his, joining him in bemoaning the twins behavior. That was something they had bonded over during their time at Hogwarts. Oliver hadn't minded the twins until they joined the Quidditch team and then suddenly their numerous detentions were an issue, suddenly Oliver was yelling at them just as much as he was. "They fit the personality of a beater for sure. You have to be just a little bit touched in the head to willingly get that close to a bludger for the entire game. The rest of us spend our time trying to stay away from the things."

He wasn't going to bring up the fact that poor Oliver seemed to be quite the bludger magnet. Once he joined the professional teams it got a smidge better, having loosely followed his career he knew that for a keeper he had sustained more injuries than was normal for his position. While he was no longer carried off the pitch every game on a stretcher it was still on average at least five games a year that landed him unconscious because he would just not move for fear of the other team scoring. Impressive yet very very stupid. However, it was probably that level of dedication which had earned him the title of captain of Puddlemere United as well as a rather hefty paycheck to match. 

"Not a bloody word out of you Perce," Oliver muttered, crossing his arms in a pout. Something that made him look far younger than he was as well as really highlighted just how massive his biceps were. He had no idea that someone's arms could contain that many muscles. 

"I didn't say anything!" he protested with a giant grin on his face. Keeping his eyes glued on Oliver's face instead of ogling his muscle definition. At least they were fake dating so tomorrow during the Quidditch game none of his siblings would find it odd if he was staring at Oliver for just a beat too long. Not something that he was planning to do, but he was only human after all and Oliver was incredibly good looking.  

Oliver stuck his tongue at him, a gesture which earned him an eye roll in return. "You didn't have to, I can see what you are thinking. I don't get hit that much."

Letting out another derisive snort he checked his watch. Yet again he had allowed himself to sit with Oliver for hours, although it certainly had not felt like that amount of time. "I have already monopolized the majority of your day. I should really get going, you probably have things to do and haven't had much of an opportunity to be alone."

"Not really," Oliver shrugged, gesturing around the room to emphasize that this was probably the extent of what he was going to do today. "You still owe me some pamphlets you know. I'm looking forward to my new reading material."

"You want to read about floo network security?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as if he didn't quite believe that Oliver was truly this interested in floo networks. Perhaps he was, his fake date could have some weird obsession with learning all about the newest advances in floo network security measures.  

Oliver was giving him a devious grin. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to talk about matters relating to magical transportation. While broomstick regulations were his passion he did love a good lecture on the security features available for floo networks. "Why not? I might just learn something, even if they are dull and boring I will just take them with me to Germany. Just in case I can still hear the twin bears snoring down the hall. Read a few lines and it will knock me right out."

For what felt like the millionth time in the past few days he broke out into a wide grin. Shaking his head at Oliver who looked quite pleased that he was so successful in getting him to lighten up a little. "Why don't you just take a sleeping draught like a normal person?"

"Banned substance in the league," he replied, giving him a smugly superior look because he knew something that his guest didn't. "What night are you going to drop them off?"

"What night works best for you?" he sighed, resigning himself to spending additional time with Oliver which didn't quite fall under the permadate rules. However, since he worked in the Department for Magical Transport and Oliver was a famous Quidditch player technically he could consider this a personal consult which did fall under his official job descriptions. 

"Wednesday, what would you like for dinner?"

Hesitating for a moment he wasn't sure if his suggestion would overplay his hand or not. After a few seconds of deliberation he decided to just go for it. "Why don't we go to a pub or something? After putting you through today the least I can do is buy you a few beers and some fried food."

"I will never turn down free beer," Oliver said quietly, an odd look on his face. "Let's say Wednesday around half past six in the evening. You can apparate here and I will take you to one of my favorite pubs."

"Then it's a-" pausing he wasn't sure what to call this. Not a date, certainly not a date. He would know if this was a date, which it couldn't be because the two of them were just pretending to be in a relationship to get his family off his back. This was simply two lads getting a beer together after work. Nothing more. "Plan," he finally said lamely, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks at the amount of time that he had paused. 

Gazing intently at him Oliver slowly nodded his head, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. "It's a plan."

Making an excuse about needing to do some laundry so he could escape the rather awkward situation, there was currently a weird tension in the air which hadn't been there before he almost said the word 'date'. A situation entirely of his own making but the less time that he spent just sitting there staring into Oliver's warm brown eyes the better. Best not to let the feelings bubbling up get in the way of his end goal which was to pose as Oliver's date for a little bit until his mum quit trying to set him up with every person that she met.

He was just renewing his friendship with Oliver, that was all. Nothing more and nothing less. It was simply nice to sit in Oliver's excellent company and enjoy some conversation. Something that he hadn't experienced in a few years. 

That was the reason he let Oliver walk him to the door where they said their goodbyes. He could have disapparated inside the row house but this way he got to spend just a few more minutes talking to Oliver. Got to watch the serene smile on Oliver's face as he opened the door, the two of them finding just a few more things to talk about until they forgot that they were just standing in an open doorway and he had some laundry to attend to. 

He reluctantly walked down the first few steps, suddenly turning around. "Oliver!" he called out, the other man paused with his hand on the handle the door halfway closed. Staring at him curiously, waiting to find out what it was that he wanted. "I-I just wanted to say thank you," he stammered out, swallowing to clear the lump in his throat. "For today and well just for everything. You don't have to do all of this."

Leaning against the doorframe Oliver shrugged, a small smile on his face as he met his gaze. "I like hanging out with you. Being your permadate is kind of- fun I guess. In a way."

"I like hanging out with you as well," he admitted, his voice oddly hoarse. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Oliver said so quietly that he almost didn't catch the words as they were carried away in the cool spring breeze. 

Nodding his head he quickly walked around to the side of the building he glanced around for any muggles who were peaking out their windows or walking by before disapparating.

Later that night he was back in his flat with a warm blanket, good book, and a steaming mug of tea. It had taken him several hours of flipping though his unread books and some of his previously read ones to find a story that captured his attention. Eventually he settled on a gripping mystery that held his attention long enough that he could forget all about the article as well as dinner with his mother tomorrow night. He would have to ensure that he sat on the same side of the table as Oliver so he wouldn't be staring into those kind eyes of his or be met with that sweet smile because of something that he said. 

That would not help the current situation any. 

He wanted something a bit stronger than tea to help with that as well. Unfortunately after searching the flat he had come up empty, tea it was. He was halfway through his second pot of the evening when he heard a knock at the door. 

Oliver?

"Merlin's beard," he muttered, fumbling around for a spare scrap of parchment to mark his place in the book. Dog eared pages were not an option so his books were filled with old receipts and bit of used parchment. 

The knock came again, more urgent and demanding. Standing up he ignored the headache that was beginning to form behind his eyes. With each moment that passed the knocking got louder and louder. 

In a way he almost wished that it was a drunk Oliver come to finally yell at him or perhaps for the two of them to engage in other activities which would effectively ruin the whole permadate situation. Either one would be preferable to the alternative, one of his family members come to have round two with him. 

"Coming!" he called, making his way to the door he swung it open. 

It wasn't Oliver.

"May I come in?" Bill asked, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the threshold. "I have something important to discuss with you."

Chapter Text

"It aint no lie, I have to tell you how I feel. Cause each time I try it gets a little more unreal, you say my name, oh God, I can't stop shaking... If I could be your superman, I'd fly you to the stars and back again. 'Cause every time you touched my hand, you'd feel my powers running through your veins. But I can only write this song, and tell you that I'm not that strong. 'Cause I'm no superman, I hope you like me as I am." Joe Brooks- Superman 

"May I come in?" Bill asked, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the threshold. "I have something important to discuss with you."

He stood frozen in the doorway unable to answer his brother's question from the sheer shock of seeing him standing in front of him. The fact that Bill actually knew where he lived came as a surprise to him. His eldest brother had only been to his flat one time and that was to let him know that Fred was being released from St. Mungos. That was two years ago and he traveled by floo powder, for a brief second he wondered who gave Bill the address so he could apparate. If he had to guess he would have to say that George and Angelina were the most likely culprits, perhaps his mother if he was here on official Weasley family business. Not that any of that really mattered right now. 

Nodding his head he moved aside to let his brother in his flat. Looking around he thought for a moment that the gift of seeing the future would be rather useful so he could have prepared his home for company. However, when showing up unexpectedly to someone's residence he supposed that one couldn't really be too critical of their host's housekeeping. Moving some books that he previously discarded in his fit to find suitable reading material he cleared a space for him on one of the chairs. "Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you," Bill nervously ran a hand along the back of his neck. Sitting down in the chair while gazing around his younger brother's tiny flat. "This won't take long."

"All right," he said tentatively, taking a sip of his own tea which thanks to the wonders of magic was still piping hot even though he previously abandoned it because he was in the middle of a particularly good chapter in his book. Wishing now more than ever that he had something a little stronger so he could prepare for whatever was about to come out of Bill's mouth. Or at least be so smashed that he wouldn't care what he had to say. Either way would work for him. 

Bill was being annoyingly calm about the fact that he had just shown up unexpectedly, leaning back in the chair he seemed to make himself at home. Glancing at the titles on the bookshelves his eyes landed on several books that he somewhat recently acquired on ancient ruins, specifically relating to forms of transportation and protection. It was an idea that he had been throwing around in his head for decreasing the likelihood of another witch/wizard or a poor unsuspecting muggle would find a portkey, either accidentally or as a result of someone's misguided mischief. Several months ago his department dealt with a string of muggles who needed to have their minds altered after portkeys were left laying about in alleyways. The ruins would work similarly to the enchantments around Hogwarts which prevented anyone out for a leisurely stroll in the Scottish highlands from stumbling upon a magical school. He used quite a bit of his free time coming up with the solution but never found the confidence to take his ideas to his superiors for fear of being told that his work was unsatisfactory. 

"Trying to be a cursebreaker now?" Bill asked, not because he actually thought his younger brother was considering a career change but more to break the thick silence that settled over the flat as the two of them stared at each other. 

"Research," he supplied, having learned years ago that one did not offer up needless information to his siblings. Short answers were best, had he made the mistake of going into detail about his ideas for the portkeys he would find himself the butt of some joke. It was better to just skim over the subject. 

Bill nodded his head, already having moved on from the topic of conversation. He didn't ask any follow-up questions regarding what type of research his brother was conducting. Whether because he could sense that his host didn't want to discuss the details or because he just didn't care that much, he wasn't entirely sure. He hoped it was the first option, he always looked up to his eldest brother. Modeled his Hogwarts trajectory after him; twelve owls, prefect, and head boy. Idolized was probably a better word for it. Bill was everything that he wanted to be and more. 

"So... Oliver huh?"

"Yes," he replied through gritted teeth. Forcing himself not to get worked up if his brother started teasing him about his supposed relationship with a famous Quidditch player. 

"I am not judging you, Percy," Bill said kindly. "Oliver is a great guy. I always liked him. Sweetest person you will ever meet and he always looked out for you during your time at Hogwarts. Personally I thought you might have harbored a little bit of a crush on him during school considering how you reacted to the bludger incident and how often you mentioned his name in casual conversation."

Ah, the bludger incident their second year. While he hadn't developed an official crush on Oliver during their early Hogwarts career he had considered him his best mate and cared for him a great deal. After the bludger took his friend out only five minutes into his first Quidditch match he rushed down to the field where Madame Hooch and Madame Pomfrey were tending to the unconscious keeper's serious injuries. Of course at the time no one realized how bad it was, mass panic only set in when they realized it was a skull fracture and Oliver would likely be in a coma for a few days. The coma ended up lasting a full week, he spent that entire time sitting by his friend's bed in hysterics. Bill and Charlie visited Oliver as well, patting their little brother on the head and forcing him to eat and sleep so he wouldn't end up in the hospital wing for exhaustion. Assuring him that while his friend showed no signs of movement and had zero reflexes that it would turn out just fine. They were right of course, Oliver ended up making a full recovery and was back on a broom as soon as Professor McGonagall cleared him to fly again. 

However, ever since then he kept his eyes glued on the keeper hoops during Gryffindor matches just in case something like that happened again. 

"He is cute too if I am being honest," he heard Bill say, snapping his head up to stare in shock at his straight older brother. "What? I can recognize when I am in the presence of a good looking man. All those years of Quidditch have certainly been kind to that boy."

He had to agree with Bill's assessment of his fake date. Oliver certainly would never be described as ugly, he had a classically handsome face along with a rather muscular body. Not that Oliver ever really noticed during Hogwarts, having been far too focused on Quidditch to realize he acquired a fan club at the matches as well as a roommate who thought he was rather nice looking. Perhaps Oliver had noticed the fan club come to think of it, since it consisted of mainly girls he just hadn't really been affected by their attention which they regularly showered onto him. It became something of an inside joke among his teammates that unless those girls dressed up like a Quaffle there was no way Oliver was going to pay them any mind.

Now they all knew why.  

Bill folded his hands across his stomach, giving off a grandfatherly vibe as he sat there staring at his younger brother who hadn't said anything in response to his musings. "I am going to give you some advice that someone once gave me regarding my mother and her treatment of Fleur. Now, before that happens I want to be the first to say that the situation with the Daily Prophet  was handled poorly. We should not have piled in on Oliver after realizing that he had no idea where you were either. I will take full responsibility for that one, I should have forced our mum and dad to go back to the Burrow and wait there. I didn't though, so here we are," pausing for a minute Bill watched him intently for a nod of his head to acknowledge that he understood. "Onto the advice; what you have to realize is that our mum is not going to make this easy, on you or on Oliver. Some things were said before you got there that, while true and at the time necessary, will not be received well by mum. She did the same thing to Fleur when we first started dating, tried to paint her as the villian and made backhanded comments about her in front of the family. For a while I attempted to play peacekeeper between the two of them, trying to both stand up for Fleur as well as please mum. You can't do both Perce. What ended up happening was mum turned our siblings against Fleur as well, it has been years trying to recover from the damage. So, my advice is to pick one. Either you appease mum which means that you probably don't date Oliver any more or you stand up for your boyfriend every time that mum makes a little dig at him or your relationship. I can't tell you what to do of course, but if it was me I would pick Oliver. He makes you happy, any idiot can see that which is one of the reasons mum is going to be so hard on you about this. Trust me, been there done that."

He didn't really understand that last part. He had done what his mother wanted, found someone who could be his date to functions so he would no longer come alone. It just so happens that his date was a boy. "Why would my being happy with Oliver make her come down hard on me? I thought she wanted me to be happy?"

"Because," Bill said slowly, propping his feet up on the coffee table and closing his eyes. "Oliver will accept the things about you that mum wants to change. By growing closer with him you will get out from under this grip that mum has over you and there will finally be some distance between that dysfunctional relationship. You haven't been happy for several years and seeing you happy with someone who doesn't bow to mum's iron will causes her to lash out," opening his eyes he took a deep breath to prepare for what he was going to say next. "What happened before the war- well, it wasn't like Charlie and I hadn't both done something similar. Right out of Hogwarts we fled to another country, had a similar fight with mum and dad if you remember. Our younger siblings don't and that is the main problem. The way mum and dad treated you before and after wasn't exactly ideal either. They asked you to choose; your career or your family and, like Charlie and I, you chose your career. The only difference is our siblings remember the fight. So, unfortunately you get to be the black sheep."

Staring at his hands he felt the hot tears pricking at his eyes. He didn't like to talk about the war or his parents' treatment of him. While he had spoken to Bill several times about the subject they had never been so open and honest with each other before. "I abandoned my family, I have to live with that decision."

"You didn't abandon your family Perce," Bill said, leaning forward in the chair. "You did the exact same thing I did when I was your age. Eighteen and fresh out of Hogwarts, trying to establish a career was well as a name for yourself. You simply put some space between yourself and our parents. There was just the additional tension of the fact that Voldemort could be back which added some unforeseen consequences to your decision to leave. You came back though and that is what counts. You came back when it mattered the most and without receiving a single apology from mum or dad for their behavior."

He stared at Bill completely dumbfounded. When his eldest brother walked into his flat he assumed that he was here to continue the conversation from earlier perhaps berate him for once again making the wrong decisions. Never did he think he would be receiving an apology of sorts and told that he wasn't necessarily the bad guy in the situation. Something that had never been said to him so plainly before this moment. The fact that it was Bill who was saying it to him somehow made him more inclined to take the words to heart. While he had never been incredibly close to Bill due to their age gap, his opinion of him had always meant more than that of some of his other siblings. "I don't want mum and dad to hate me again," his voice holding a raw honesty that he felt he owed to his brother who had spoken so openly to him about his own decisions in life. "I really was going to tell them about me being gay. I never meant for them to find out the way they did."

"I know," Bill replied, pulling a pack of tissues out of his pocket and handing them over. "Mum and dad won't hate you. Just be prepared for them not to be happy with you for a minute. They will come around eventually, you just have to make sure that it doesn't cost you your relationship with Oliver. A guy who by the way all of your siblings absolutely adore, along with your sibling-in-laws. He certainly made a positive impression on Fleur, she is already plotting vacations with the two of you and coming up with double date ideas."

A wave of guilt washed over him, realizing for the first time exactly what he was asking of his family by having Oliver pose as his fake date. He hadn't thought about the implications of what would happen if his permadate made too good of an impression. What would it do to his family when they inevitably called it off? Hopefully this time it would not end in Oliver feeling as if he had to see the other Weasleys without him there, at least this time they could try to preserve the underlying friendship. "Oliver can win over anyone," that was the truth, that man was charismatic and a whiz at getting people to like him. Probably the only thing that saved him when he forced his teammates to train in the pouring rain, anyone else would have been smothered in their sleep. From what he remembered of his year on reserves he had managed to worm his way into the hearts of his new teammates within the first few weeks. There was a lot to love about him. 

"He certainly won over you," Bill grinned at him, standing up to stretch his long arms out. "And you are quite difficult to impress. I always knew that whoever ended up with you would have to be something special. You let me know if Oliver doesn't live up to those high expectations that we all have for him, Charlie and I will pay him a little visit to remind him how to treat our baby brother."

He seriously doubted that Oliver would ever need a visit like that, but it certainly warmed his heart to know that his brothers were willing to step in for him if they ever felt like he was wronged. Gave a little bit of weight to Bill's words earlier about him not being the villian that he had been painted to be for the past several years. Not that he would ever think that all of his choices had been correct during that time in his life but there was a possibility that he could quit feeling like such a failure.

Perhaps this could be the beginning of a much better relationship between him and his eldest brother.  

Wiping at his red tipped nose with the sleeve of his jumper, both he and Bill pretended to not notice that he had been crying from their heart felt conversation before. Even Bill's face was looking a little red and he kept clearing his throat without any words to follow the action. 

"You going to be ok mini me?" Bill asked, pulling out the old nickname that he hadn't heard since his first year of Hogwarts. It was no secret that he and Bill favored each other in looks like Charlie and the twins favored each other. Coupled with the fact that he used to toddle around after Bill as a child had earned the affectionate title of 'mini me.'

"Yeah," his throat was unpleasantly raw and he felt almost exposed in a way. As though Bill had seen through the mask of indifference that he showed to the world to lay bare all of his insecurities and deepest held fears. While uncomfortable he knew that it was necessary if they ever wanted to understand each other as adults and finally have a relationship where he was going to be more than just his dumb little brother. 

With a quick side hug Bill nodded at him before disapparating with a crack. There was a pulsing headache behind his right eye, sitting on the couch alone in his living room he finally allowed the emotions from today's events to spill over. Tears streaming down his cheeks he felt his chest crack open, leaving him curled in a ball on one end of his sofa. He felt like he had all those years ago during the war, helpless and lost while alone in his flat. Yearning desperately to have the option of going home for one of him mum's warm hugs and a customary cup of tea, knowing that couldn't happen. 

Unable to make that particular wish a reality at the moment he settled for a long hot bath complete with lavender scented Epsom salt along with his book. Laying in the steaming water with the Epsom salt releasing a heavenly aroma which allowed him to relax fully. He sighed in contentment, this was exactly what he needed to clear his head and be able to think logically about the issues at hand. 

The most pressing being what was he going to do about his parents' reactions to him being gay and dating Oliver? Bill hadn't been wrong, he certainly couldn't allow his mum to speak to Oliver in a way that was not respectful. Fake dating or not no one deserved to be treated unfairly. Especially when they were putting up with his family out of the kindness of their too large heart.

He certainly didn't want this arrangement to cease to be mutually beneficial. Putting up with verbal abuse and latent homophobia from his mother was not worth having a designated date to Quidditch functions. 

For some reason the mere thought of Oliver taking another man to the Quidditch gala in June brought a wave of panic washing over him. A knot formed in his stomach when he imagined seeing Oliver looking at anyone else the way that he looked at him when they were dancing at the Ministry function. 

What he couldn't quite work out was why. 

The sound of his alarm alerting him that someone was accessing his floo network woke him once again far earlier than he wanted. The light streaming through the window indicated that it was probably at least nine in the morning, not bothering to glance at the alarm clock in case he was wrong. No sense in getting too angry at whoever was just popping by. Wouldn't stop him from being highly annoyed at the interruption to his beauty sleep though. 

Wrapping a blanket around himself he shuffled into his living room to find Charlie standing near the fireplace dusting himself off. Come tomorrow morning the first thing he was doing was looking into a way to permanently prevent his family from ever accessing his flat ever again, he would owl Oliver the instructions so he could enjoy the same protection. 

"What the bloody hell?" Charlie exclaimed, staring at him in horror. "I leave for one week and the whole world implodes! Our mum is in a right state at the moment!"

"Coffee?" he asked, not bothering to wait for an answer before shuffling into the kitchen. There was no way that he was going to be able to have this conversation without the help of at least two cups of strong coffee to fortify him. 

Charlie followed after him babbling incoherently, only catching a few words one of which was "Oliver." His brother sounded like a broken record that was stuck on one part of the song just repeating the same word over and over again. "Please tell me that this isn't some sort of permadate situation?" Charlie asked, finally finding enough words rolling about his head to string together a complete sentence. 

"I think you know the answer to that question."

"No," Charlie groaned, sinking into one of the rickety kitchen chairs. Elbows propped on the table with his head in his hands, shaking his head at his little brother who was focusing on the important task of brewing a pot of coffee for the two of them. "You weren't supposed to go make Oliver your permadate. Certainly weren't supposed to make him some fake boyfriend or whatever insane plan the two of you have cooked up."

Sniffing indignantly, he watched as the magical liquid began to fill up the pot. His mouth was already watering as he pulled the cream and sugar out placing them on the table in front of Charlie. "You never specified that I couldn't. Besides, Oliver is a lovely date as it turns out. I am excited to see how I am received at work tomorrow morning now that my co-workers and bosses have seen this more fun loving and carefree side of me. I plan to throw in my name for the next head of the department. Once mum and dad calm down I am going to inform them of my news."

"Did they see the side of you that used to have a huge crush on Oliver?" Charlie asked, peeking out at him from between his fingers. "You don't go make your permadate someone that you are going to fall in love with."

"Love?" he cried, nearly spilling the piping hot coffee that he was pouring into two mugs. "Don't you think you are getting just a little ahead of yourself by suggesting anything regarding love? Which I assure you is most certainly not the situation."

Dropping his hands to the table his brother stared at him, blinking slowly with an amused look on his face. "You had the biggest crush on that boy. For several months every letter you wrote to me featured that boy as the central theme. There is no way that you aren't going to spend time with him and not feel a little something. Perhaps you already do if that picture in the Daily Prophet is any indication as to your ulterior motivations for choosing Ollie as your date."

"Don't use the word 'crush,'" he remarked, setting a cup in front of Charlie. "It's makes me sound so juvenile. I admit that I had some feelings for him at one point in my life, but those feelings are gone. We are just helping each other out by pretending to date for a while until one of us calls it off. There are rules and everything."

"Is one of those rules that nothing physical will happen between you two?" Charlie asked, lapsing into a round of raucous laughter when his younger brother nodded at him. "Whose rule was that?"

Never one to enjoy being laughed at he took a long sip of his coffee, glaring at the idiot sitting across from him. "Oliver if you must know. Further proving my point that there is nothing between us. He ensured there would be no snogging from the onset of this endeavor. Not something that you do if you want more than just a date to various functions from somebody."

Charlie was still laughing at him, holding his stomach with his head thrown back. He failed to understand the punchline. "Oh Merlin! It's worse than I thought. You two idiots are going to fall in love with each other without even realizing it. Mark my words."

"I would know if someone was in love with me!" he said indignantly, knowing that he probably would at least initially miss the signs that someone was falling for him. "I would at least know if I was falling in love with someone. I am not that dense."

"Ok Perce," Charlie attempted to stop his giggling long enough to take a sip of his coffee. "We will see. Little Ollie is going to experience his first Weasley family dinner this evening. I will know then if the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly are correct. The two of you are mad for each other you know, if you read the gossip columns." 

"I don't," he mumbled, downing the rest of his coffee and immediately refilling his cup. Leaving just enough room for a splash of cream and a tiny bit of sugar. 

Ignoring his grinning older brother, he concentrated on sipping his fresh cup of coffee while trying not to let his words get to him. There was nothing between him and Oliver. Nothing. 

Certainly not the beginnings of love. A four-letter word that could strike fear into his heart faster than the mention of You-Know-Who used to. That was something he never allowed himself to experience, never letting anyone know the parts of him that he preferred to keep hidden away. Any time anyone even come close to knowing the real Percy he swiftly and efficiently shut down any further communication with that person. Running away was his specialty. 

"I'm right," Charlie sang, a teasing look in his eyes as he stared at him. 

"You're ridiculous," he sang back, raising his eyebrows. 

He was right about this, there was nothing between him and Oliver. 

Nothing at all. 

Just before half past five he found himself standing once again on Oliver's stoop. They agreed last night that it would be best if they arrived at the Burrow together. Cut down on the risk of one of them being cornered by a member of the Weasley family. There was one member in particular that he was especially worried about, but he assured himself that everything would be fine. 

Surely his mother could realize what a wonderful person Oliver was and control her tongue for one night. 

Knowing that he had been given a standing invitation to walk right in he pushed open the door to be met with faint voices, carried into the entranceway where he shut the door a little louder than necessary to announce his presence. Apparently Oliver had company this evening. Walking into the kitchen he found the man in question standing there with Angelina, Alicia, and Katie from his old Quidditch team at Hogwarts as well as Simone Lambert who was on the reserve team as a chaser with Oliver that first year at Puddlemere United. Since then she had been moved to the starting line up as well. 

"Hey Perce!" Oliver greeted brightly, standing in front of the girls who were all holding up different jumpers that he was trying to choose from. "You know Angie and I am sure that you remember Alicia and Katie from Hogwarts. My friend Simone as well."

"Yes," he replied, holding up a hand in greeting to be met with mostly pleasant looks from the girls. Several of which he hadn't seen in years, while they had always been quite pretty girls they all turned out rather stunning. "Lovely to see you all again."

Simone regarded him with a cool indifference, her almond colored eyes narrowing at him. "Likewise," she nodded, her Dutch accent had softened over the years. Turning her head back towards Oliver causing her sleek ponytail to swish against her graceful neck. Not that he could blame her for the look she gave him, there was no way that Oliver hadn't told her what he did several years ago. He wouldn't exactly be friendly to him either if he was in her shoes. 

While he had met Simone several times, the two of them had not really been friends. Only knowing her through Oliver who invited her to hang with them on various occasions during that year after Hogwarts. At one point he wondered if she and Oliver might potentially have a little thing going on, that was of course until he learned that Oliver was very gay and she was painfully straight. He told Oliver his theory just a few weeks before the two of them kissed for the second time only to be met with hysterical laughter at the mere thought that he and Simone would ever be more than just friends.

At the time the fact that Oliver did not have romantic feelings towards Simone felt something akin to relief. It still felt that way for some odd reason. Even though that didn't make any sense to him, why should he care who Oliver does or does not like?

"The girls are helping me pick out my outfit for dinner with your parents. I want to look nice for them to repair some of the damage from yesterday."

"Pick the black one," he said, gesturing to the jumper in Katie's hands. "But you would look great in anything. Besides, I am the one who has to repair the damage with my parents. Not you. It was my mistake that caused the issue in the first place."

Oliver just shrugged, taking his advice and choosing the black jumper. Not bothering to leave the room to change he pulled his current Puddlemere shirt off exposing his fake date to the fact that he had a rather muscular torso. At least before he could pretend that the outline of his muscles through his shirt were simply due to the way the fabric fit against his body or a trick of the light. That was not the case. 

That man had muscles across his chest and abdomen that he hadn't even realized were capable of being real. Something that he'd only seen in magazines where he knew that airbrushing was used to touch up the photos. No airbrushing was present in this instance. This was 100% real, and he couldn't tear his eyes away for even one second. His gaze roaming almost involuntarily from the man's broad shoulders down to his hips, a line of dark hair going down the middle of his abdomen and even though he couldn't see all of it he knew where it ended. 

"Better hurry up Oliver," Alicia snorted. "Your new boyfriend is practically drooling over the glorious sight of you shirtless."

"Bite me," mumbled Oliver, who did in fact speed up the process of putting on his jumper. He wasn't sure if it was time seeming to slow down to a crawl or if Oliver was just a leisurely dresser naturally, the man had taken forever to put that jumper on either way. Causing him to become quite flustered as a result. 

"Gladly," Katie giggled, appreciatively admiring Oliver's six pack as it disappeared underneath the black fabric. "But perhaps Percy would like to do the honors. Take a little nibble out of your shoulder or that delicious tummy of yours."

Simone adjusted Oliver's shirt, fixing a few pieces of his hair that had become mussed up during the wardrobe change. "It's a good thing that you are the only gay man on the Puddlemere team. Otherwise, there would be a full on riot every time you changed for practice."

"Imagine the bloodshed in those locker rooms if you were surrounded by people who truly appreciated how wonderful years of Quidditch have been to you?" Angelina asked, leaned up against the wall with an amused expression as she watched Oliver's cheeks blazed crimson. Her gaze darted over to where he was sitting, her eyes darkening at the memory of his entire family ganging up on her sweet friend yesterday. 

"Don't you all have somewhere else to be?" Oliver asked with a pointed look at the four girls who were giggling to each other over his reaction to their friend being shirtless and how red Oliver's face had turned in the past few minutes. 

Angelina grinned at Oliver giving him a small wink. "The same place that you have to be in a few minutes. I will head on over to prepare the troops and ensure that Molly is going to be civil and courteous to my favorite former Quidditch captain."

"I am your only former Quidditch captain," Oliver rolled his eyes at her, busying himself gathering up the shirts that didn't make the cut for the Weasley family dinner. 

"Then it's a good thing you are the only one, otherwise you would be at the bottom of that list," Angelina teased, giving Oliver a kiss on the cheek before disapparating to the Burrow. He just hoped that Angelina didn't put his mum into a right state before the two of them got there. While his mum certainly didn't hate Angelina there was a bit of tension between the two of them, mainly because in the beginning she encouraged his twin brothers to pursue their life-long dream of opening a joke shop in Diagon Alley instead of telling them to join the Ministry like their dad. His mum had not considered their entrepreneurial tendencies to be what she considered a respectable career. 

While the relationship between the two women was certainly better, it was at times still quite strained. 

The other two members of Oliver's former Quidditch team at Hogwarts weren't far behind Angelina, with a quick kiss on the cheek they disapparated with a crack. Just Simone was left, giving Oliver a giant hug and a kiss on top of his head. He couldn't help but chuckle quietly, Simone was nearly six feet which meant she had several inches on Oliver without the addition of the stiletto heels she was wearing at the moment. Most men would be too masculine to stand right next to a woman who towered over them like that however, Oliver seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he barely came to her chest at the moment. In fact, he seemed to rather enjoy being the one who got to be cuddled. "Call me if you need someone to come save you," Simone instructed Oliver, without so much as a goodbye wave to his date hovering near the kitchen table she disappeared from view. 

Leaving the two of them with an awkward silence between them. 

Standing alone in the kitchen neither of them were meeting each other's eyes. He knew why he was avoiding his date's gaze, being called out for gawking at his shirtless form would certainly cause someone to be just a little uncomfortable with direct eye contact. Supposing that perhaps being the person who was the recipient of said gawking might be just a tad bit awkward as well. 

"I got something for you," Oliver said, pulling something small and black out of a drawer in the kitchen. Looking at the small device in his outstretched hand he knew it was muggle but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. "It's a cell phone, Percy. It isn't going to bite you."

Taking it gingerly he held it up between his thumb and pointer finger. He recognized the word 'phone' which meant that this weird little thing probably functioned much like the one he used Friday night at the Ministry. How though? It was smaller than the one in the red box, missing the silver buttons as well as the part that he talked into. How did he dial? Which end did he speak into? These were all questions that he was silently pondering over in his head, too embarrassed to ask Oliver for some assistance in figuring out how to use this thing. There was also the question of why his fake date felt he needed one but he wasn't going to ask that either. 

Watching with an amused smirk Oliver finally took pity on him, realizing that he was utterly lost at the moment. "I will show you how to use it," taking the phone back he began his demonstration. "Normally you would have to charge it but it has been modified to keep a full battery at all times since most wizards and witches don't have electricity. This is where your contacts are stored. My number is already in there as well as Simone's in case there is an emergency and you can't reach me or I am the emergency. You just press this button on the screen and it will call me." 

It felt like magic to him. One little touch on the screen and Oliver's phone immediately began to ring, pulling it out of his pocket he pointed out the name that popped up on the screen showing who was calling. "You just swipe this green button to answer the phone, then hold this end to your ear and say hello. When you are done you press this button to end the call. Much faster than owls and certainly more convenient when you need to quickly get ahold of someone. We will practice with that for a few days then we will cover texting."

"Texting?"

"It's like writing a letter but you do it on the phone and press a button to send it. Happens almost immediately. You can send pictures and videos as well," Oliver explained patiently, fully aware that someone who was pure blood would not be up to speed and savvy with the latest advances in muggle technology. 

"Fascinating," he breathed out, marveling at the wonders of such a handy little thing. He liked it already, much easier than sending a letter via owl or having to lean over a fireplace to send a floo message. 

Oliver nodded his head with a serious look on his face. "Don't let you father get ahold of it. It was all I could do to keep him from opening up my television yesterday to find out how it works. I do not need him pulling apart your cell phone. It comes with manuals, once you are done reading them you can hand them off to your dad to peruse."

This little cell phone was perhaps the most marvelous thing that he'd ever seen. Deciding to try it out for himself he carefully repeated the steps that Oliver had shown him, hearing the phone ringing he was about to hang up when Oliver answered the phone even though he was standing right there. "Hello?"

The sound of Oliver's voice coming through the phone caused him to emit a small yelp, holding the phone away from his ear. He hadn't quite expected that, it sounded just like Oliver's normal voice. Perhaps he'd been expecting a voice similar to the metallic sounding one at the Ministry, this little cell phone just kept getting more and more fascinating. "Hello?" he tentatively said back, ignoring the fact that Oliver was chuckling at his earlier reaction. 

"Are you ready to head over to your mum and dad's for dinner?"

"Yes," he huffed, not really wanting to face the wrath of his mum but knowing that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. 

"All right then- see you in a minute," Oliver chuckled to himself at his little joke, tapping something on the phone then putting it in the front pocket of his jeans. 

Looking down at his phone he didn't see the button to hang up, confusion set in as he held up his phone so Oliver could see the problem. "My button disappeared. I can't hang up."

"That's because I hung up first," Oliver explained, grabbing his robes off the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "It makes your button disappear."

"Oh," he was slightly disappointed by that revelation. "I wanted to practice hanging up the phone so I would know I was getting the hang of it."

Oliver snorted, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. Staring at him with a rather fond look which made him squirm slightly, he wasn't used to people looking at him like that. "I am sure you will have plenty of opportunities to hang up on me," Oliver promised, handing over the manual for how to use the phone. "Are we traveling by floo or will we apparate?"

"Apparate," he replied, putting the phone in his front pocket to ensure that it was kept safe during travel. "I go to the Burrow quite often so it might be best if I apparate both of us. It is quite far and you haven't been there in several years. I wouldn't want you to get splinched."

Shrugging Oliver held out his arms as though he was about to give a hug, duffle bag containing his practice broom slung over one shoulder. "You are the future head of the Department for Magical Transportation. I trust your judgement."

He almost said something about the chances that particular scenario would actually pan out being slim to none. While the party had certainly gone well he knew there was still a distinct possibility they would choose another candidate. Several of the people in his department was well qualified for the position and he knew the competition was steep. Deciding not to get into that right now, mainly because he knew that Oliver would view it as self-depreciating and try to convince him otherwise. Further delaying their arrival at the Burrow. Opting instead to wrap his arms around the slightly shorter man so they could apparate safely.  

Oliver's arms wrapped around his waist, head leaning against his chest. He tightened his own embrace pulling Oliver's warm body even closer to him- for safety. 

"You ready?" he asked, to ensure that he didn't surprise Oliver causing him to leave a body part behind when he disapparated not because he was enjoying holding the man in his arms and wanted to delay as long as possible. Feeling Oliver nod against his chest he tightened his grip ever so slightly adjusting his arms so one hand was around his lower back while the other rested on the back of his head- for a little extra safety considering how dangerous apparating could be. 

With a crack they disapparated wrapped in each other's arms. 

Arriving outside the Burrow, he did a quick check that both of them arrived with all of their body parts in tact all while still standing with his arms tightly holding onto Oliver. It wasn't like the other man had exactly let go either so he was hesitant to be the first. Running a hand through Oliver's brown curls he heard a soft sigh as his date's hand lightly ran up the length of his spine. Taking that as confirmation that they were both content to just stay like this for a moment longer he rested his chin on top of Oliver's head still playing with his hair. 

As they stood there embracing each other hope swelled in his chest for one brief moment. Having long ago come to terms with being the one Weasley that everyone thought would never get to find love he had pretty much written off the possibility of every finding anyone who would be ok with shouldering the amount of emotional baggage that he carried around. It wasn't that he necessarily didn't want to date, he had dreams of one day finding a nice guy to settle down with and start a family of his own. He just had a hard time trusting people. 

Even his own family members he always held at arms length, having proven that they were not incapable of breaking his heart. Perhaps this whole fake dating situation could be the start of him finally being able to trust someone with his heart. Bill did say his siblings and sibling-in-laws loved Oliver, which that by extension they were ok with the fact that he was gay. While he knew that his mum and dad would be a harder sell he had hope they would come around to see that it didn't matter who he ended up with, as long as that person made him happy. 

Oliver certainly fit into that slot perfectly. He couldn't deny that he was happy with Oliver, unfortunately all that Oliver wanted from him was friendship and someone to take to Quidditch functions who wouldn't treat him like shit. At least that was what he thought he wanted from him- this newest development was certainly something to consider further. 

"Hey everyone! Look who we found!" 

Recognizing the voices of the twins he let out a frustrated puff of air at the fact that they were ruining whatever this moment was. A jolt of annoyance at his nosy family bubbled up within him. Leave it to them to not understand when to just go back inside and not disturb two people. All he wanted to do was stand here for the rest of eternity with Oliver resting comfortably in his arms. 

"Just ignore them," Oliver mumbled against his chest. "They will go away eventually."

He wanted to agree with that plan but he also knew Fred and George, they would in fact not go away. Their call to action brought forth every Weasley and honorary Weasley in attendance at tonight's dinner. They spilled from the doorway of the Burrow giving the appearance of one of those clown cars he had seen on television one time. Just when you thought there was no way any more bodies could emerge from such a tight space one more popped out. 

Staring at his family he suddenly felt very protective of the person wrapped in his arms he tightened his grip just a little to let him know that he wasn't going to allow his family to abuse him while he was around. Glaring at the sea of faces he noted that none of them looked angry or disgusted at the sight of two men who were dating each other. Charlie was annoying smug, his eyebrows practically in his hairline as if to say 'I told you so.' He would point out that he was in fact wrong later on, this was not what it looked like. Hermione looked conflicted, the calculating look on her face suggested that perhaps she suspected this was a farce but didn't have enough data to support her hunch. There was a thing as being too perceptive and intelligent, Hermione often skirted that line. 

The rest of them had varied expressions of fondness and adoration as they elbowed each other, jostling about to get a better look at the only significant other their brother had ever brought home to meet the family. Never mind the fact that it was his father who suggested that he bring Oliver tonight and that his mother probably would prefer it if his new romantic interest disappeared from their lives altogether. 

"We get it already," Ginny's voice held a note of amusement, looking over he saw that she was practically melting on the spot as she watched her older brother affectionately embracing the boy he was dating. "You are both adorable. Now come inside before you make everyone here jealous of your relationship."

"Quit hugging your new boyfriend and come inside," Fred called to the both of them with a grin that could only mean that he and George had something planned that would cause trouble. 

"Yes," said George, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "We have several questions for you starting with why you stood outside the Burrow playing with Oliver's hair."

Snapping his head up he narrowed his eyes at his siblings. "I apparated us both here if you must know. The safest way to do so is to wrap your arms around the person. Reduces the risk for injuries. I wasn't playing with his hair either, apparating long distances can make you feel a little nauseous. I was simply waiting until our stomachs settled," he could feel Oliver's warm chuckle against him, his arms tightened protectively around him before he had time to consider the action. 

"How are your wittle tummies now?" Harry asked with an amused smirk on his smug face. "All better?"

"Yes-" 

"Well then come inside already," Ron interrupted him, looking rather impatient with the situation. "Mum is still working on dinner and we had plans to play a quick game of Quidditch beforehand."

Reluctantly he released his hold on Oliver who did the same. Stepping back from each other Oliver blinked several times as though he had just opened his eyes for the first time in a few minutes, rubbing his face it gave him a rather sleepy appearance. If it weren't for the no unnecessary kissing rule as part of their deal he probably would have placed one on his forehead. Probably for the best they agreed on their terms ahead of time, reduced the possibility that things would get unnecessarily complicated. Well, not any more complicated than the whole situation already was. 

To avoid staring at how adorable Oliver looked in this moment he glared at his family feeling as though his brain needed a minute to catch up, unsure of how exactly to process his and Oliver's reactions to the hug. It was certainly one that suggested that perhaps they both wanted something more than just a fake date and a rekindled friendship out of this agreement between the two of them. He wasn't entirely sure though and didn't exactly have the brain power to ponder such things right now with his entire family staring at the two of them. 

Apparently, that little bit of hesitation on his part allowed the twins the opening they needed to grab Oliver's arms, marching the poor man into the Burrow. His broad shoulders tensed up as they neared the doorway where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting inside the house for the two of them. 

"Oh mother dearest," Fred cooed. 

"Percy and Ollie are finally here," George hung on Oliver's arm, looking up at him while batting his eyelashes. Oliver just rolled his eyes, going along with everything with that same easy go with the flow attitude that he brought to everything else in his life. 

“Arthur!” his mum called over her shoulder towards the living room. “Our third eldest son is here along with the boy that he is shacking up with!”

His mum turned around, not bothering to say anything else or waiting for them to greet her. He watched her head back towards the stove, turning slowly to look at Oliver who just shrugged his shoulders in defeat. 

"He had a name mum," he said defiantly, remembering his conversation with Bill last night. "You can address him as Oliver or dear like you call everyone else. Anything else will not be tolerated."

A silence washed over the kitchen as everyone turned to look at him, usually he was one of the first to bend beneath his mother's wrath. The only other time that he stood up to her was the night he left, not returning for several years. Most of his siblings had a mixture of shock and awe on their faces, while Bill and Fleur looked incredibly pleased with the turn of events. "What?" his mum asked, turning around to face him as if perhaps she simply misheard him. 

"I said you can address the person I am dating by his name or you may call him dear. Terms such as 'the boy he is shacking up with' will not be tolerated," he repeated, clarifying exactly what he meant in case there was any confusion. 

Oliver blinked at him, a grateful look crossing his features before the careful mask of neutrality returned. If he hadn't been staring right at the man he probably would have missed the brief show of emotions at the situation. 

"Dinner will be ready soon," his mum huffed, realizing that none of her children or anyone else was going to come to her defense in this particular situation. 

He couldn't get too excited over his small victory. While he might have won this battle he knew that his mother was simply taking some time to reconvene for round two where she would be prepared to spew venom all over his relationship with Oliver. Shuddering at the thought of what she would do and say if she knew that this was all fake.

"Quidditch time!" Ginny insisted, rubbing her hands together with an almost hungry look in her eyes. He knew that his little sister was always ready to play some Quidditch and was probably itching to try out a few moves that she thought would have the Quaffle sailing past Oliver's outstretched hands and through the goalposts. 

Everyone scurried out of the kitchen where the air was so heavy with tension that it felt like they were walking through a thick fog and into the back garden where the crisp April air was quite refreshing. While he was more of inside person, usually preferring to either be reading a book or pursuing other academic endeavors he did enjoy the outdoors at times. One of those times was when his mother was driving him up a wall and he needed an escape before he said something that he would later regret. 

Quidditch was in his blood, something that at times he adored but more often than not he was simply indifferent. It wasn't that he didn't like Quidditch, he thought that it was just fine however unlike his family and his fake date he simply wasn't obsessed with the sport. Growing up in the Weasley household he had the great misfortune of being surrounded by people who ate, slept, and breathed Quidditch. When he started Hogwarts, he thought that he could finally escape the Quidditch mania only to find that he was going to share a room with Oliver Wood. The boy who took Quidditch mania to an unhealthy level at times. 

During his time during the war when he had thrown away Oliver's friendship, he used to listen to the Puddlemere United games on the radio. Telling himself that he only did so because it filled his flat with background noise to motivate him to complete his long list of chores or to finish a lengthy report for work. Never admitting that what he wanted to fill his flat with was the sound of Oliver's name, something that he didn't feel he had the right to say at the time. Every time the announcers would say his name it caused a fluttering in his heart which was a stone better left unturned.  

They had just rekindled their friendship and that was enough for him. 

Angelina was standing by Oliver just in front of the building where the Quidditch supplies were stored, surveying the talent from which they had to choose and whispering to each other in hushed voices. Occasionally nodding their heads or glancing over at someone then continuing to consult with each other. "There are enough people for two modified teams," she moved her finger as if she was counting people and doing some quick math. "Of course, Oliver will be keeper for one team and Ron can be keeper for the other team. We will split Fred and George between the two teams. Thankfully we have Harry and Charlie for seekers. That just leaves us with needing two additional chasers, right Ollie?"

Oliver nodded his head, looking around at everyone gathered around them. "Yep. Bill and Percy should be able to fill in as chasers. That would leave Hermione and Fleur to be the referees and explain the game to Mona, so she isn't completely lost at future Weasley functions."

"Good idea," agreed Angelina, while Hermione was a brilliant witch, she would probably end up injured if they tried to stick her in the midst of a Quidditch game. Fleur probably knew how to fly but since she had never really played Quidditch it was difficult to say what sort of liability they were looking at. "Now for the teams- Oliver, Ginny, George, Harry, and I will be one team. The rest can make up the other team."

"Wait just one minute!" cried Charlie, staring at Oliver and Angelina in bewilderment. "You just put three professional Quidditch players on one team. How is our team supposed to compete against the best keeper in the league? Plus, most of our team hasn't really played Quidditch much in the past few years, apart from once or twice a year or so. The two of you have stacked the deck."

Oliver looked at Angelina, both of them shrugging their shoulders before turning to face the others. "Life isn't fair," Oliver said simply, crossing his arms across his chest. Angelina stood beside him with a similar stance, both of them presenting a unified front with expressions that dared anyone to question their authority over this game of Quidditch. "Worried that Harry will catch the snitch before you?" raising his eyebrows at Charlie who scowled in response while sticking both middle fingers up at the boy who succeeded him as captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

"At least put one professional chaser on each team," Ron whined, siding with Charlie on the unfairness of the way the teams were chosen. "Give us Ginny and we will give you Percy, that way the talent is evened out a little bit." 

"Ickle Ronnikins is just afraid that I will score on him," Ginny scoffed, earning a nod from Oliver and Angelina who agreed with her assessment. "Plus, he knows that Harry will be too afraid to catch the snitch if we are on opposite teams."

Bill held up his hand, taking over his role as the eldest sibling and therefore the peacekeeper. "Now, now. We need even teams. It makes sense to split up the two chasers who play professionally that way each team has an equal opportunity to score," Bill gave Oliver a pointed look who looked incredibly unconcerned about the idea of fairness. "Ginny, there will also be no beating up your future husband or your older brother if one of them catches the snitch for the team that you aren't on. This is just a friendly game of Quidditch, no one here needs to treat it like a league playoff game."

"It's like he doesn't know us at all!" wailed Oliver, feigning intense hurt over Bill suggesting that Quidditch, regardless of its form, not be taken with the appropriate amount of dedication and sincerity that it rightfully deserved. 

"My own brother!" Ginny joined in on the fake wailing as she and Oliver clung to each other pretending to sob into the other person's shoulders. Well, he hoped they were pretending. It would not be unheard of for the tears due to Bill's perceived betrayal to be just a little bit real. 

Looking around at everyone he realized that they were getting nowhere. Taking it upon himself to actually get them in the air so they could play a quick game before dinner was ready he marched over to where Ginny was standing. Tapping Ginny on the shoulder he waited for her to turn around, drumming his fingertips against his broomstick impatiently. "Come on. You and I are switching teams. Otherwise we are going to be here all night."

"Awww!" Ginny cooed, pinching his cheek like he was a small child. "Alright, but only because it is Oliver's first Quidditch game as your new boyfriend. This is the only time I will make this exception."

"Just switch please," he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. While he loved his siblings at times they could be quite exhausting especially when it came to significant others.

Oliver was grinning at him, waving goodbye to Ginny as she went to take her place among the team made up entirely of Weasleys. "Just can't stay away from me huh Perce?" Oliver asked, lightly bumping his shoulder with a wink. 

"Oh, don't you start in on me as well," he groaned, mounting his broom and kicking off. Signaling to the others that it was officially time to start this Quidditch match already. 

As they all flew into the air there was quite a bit of jeering and shouting at each other as the two teams attempted to trash talk each other before the Quaffle was to be released by Hermione. He couldn't help but smile as he realized that this was the first time all of the Weasley siblings were laughing together in a fairly long time. It was certainly a nice change of pace from the usual tense silences and general feeling of wanting to be literally anywhere else that usually accompanied their family get togethers. He could definitely get used to this new dynamic. 

"Oi Perce!" Oliver called, waving him over to where his team was huddled. "We are going to have a quick strategy meeting so we can wipe the floor with the majority of your siblings."

Rolling his eyes, he flew over to join the impromptu meeting, that was what he got for allowing himself to be chosen for the team that had both Oliver and Angelina on it. The two of them were absolutely fanatical about Quidditch tactics and neither of them reacted well to losing if his memory served correct. This was shaping up to be an interesting game of Quidditch. 

"All right mates," Oliver began, the manic glint shining in his eyes as he effortlessly stepped into the role of unofficial captain of the team. The rest of them just let him because it wasn't worth the energy to suggest otherwise. "We need to utilize our strengths if we are going to win this thing. Angie, you will focus mainly on scoring points since you know all of Ron's weaknesses. Percy, you are in charge of protecting Angie I don't care if you have to ram the other two chasers to keep them from grabbing that Quaffle. George, you knock that bludger about like your life depends on it. Take out Charlie if you can, that way there is no one to keep Harry from the snitch. Harry, I don't want you to catch that snitch until we are at least 50 points in the lead. I don't want to win by 10 points, we need to annihilate the other team."

Rubbing his face with his hands he shook his head in defeat, he should have known that his Quidditch obsessed date wouldn't be able to just play a nice easy game of Quidditch. "I swear to Merlin Oliver! If this night ends with you sitting in a shower fully clothed and crying over a game of backyard Quidditch I am going to find someone else to bring as a date to things."

The rest of their team snorted with laughter, having all been there to witness Oliver's little breakdown after the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match all those years ago. "That was one time, Percy! I had a lot going on leading up to that match. Besides, I have to prove my new position of captain of Puddlemere United. How would it look if we lost to a bunch of people who don't even play Quidditch for a living?"

"I will be on Oliver duty," Harry promised, patting his old captain on the head. "I won't let him get too competitive tonight," with a wink at his former Quidditch captain, the two of them shared a look which made him just a little bit worried about what exactly they schemed prior to this little meeting. 

"Are we going to play some Quidditch or what?" Ron called from the other side of the pitch, impatiently tapping his watch indicating that they were wasting precious time which could be spent actually playing Quidditch.

Sitting in the circle waiting for Hermione to release the Quaffle he couldn't help but feel just a little bit nervous about the whole situation. Normally he didn't join in on the Quidditch games between his siblings, but he knew they could get quite rough. Especially since he was playing against his little sister who only got more viscous with each passing year. 

Hermione threw the Quaffle in the air, Ginny and Angelina rushed forward to grab it. With a flash Angelina was rushing down the shortened pitch towards the hoops where Ron would be waiting for her. Knowing that Oliver was counting on him to protect his fellow chaser he rushed forward as well, elbow ready to shove his fellow Weasleys out of the way. 

"And Angelina has possession of the Quaffle as she nears the hoops with Ginny and Bill hot on her tail," came the magnified voice of Oliver, who had apparently decided that he would also be playing the role of announcer tonight along with serving as keeper. "Ron is ready to block her goal, but oh! She fakes right and he falls for it letting the Quaffle sail right through the goal. Brilliant as usual Angelina, absolutely bloody spectacular. The score is now 10-0 in favor of my team which, let's just face it, is the best team."

There were quite a few eye rolls at that statement but overall, everyone in attendance seemed amused by Oliver's antics. He fit right in with the Weasleys and their significant others, thinking back to the list he made which now felt like a lifetime ago he couldn't help but admit that Oliver certainly checked every one of the criteria that he wanted in a permadate. 

"Ginevra Potter now has the Quaffle as she zooms down the pitch eyes locked on the dashing keeper sitting in front of the goalposts. She looks to the left then she looks to the right. Which hoop will she go for? No one knows, probably not even her. She rears back, red hair just flowing in the wind as she tries to get the Quaffle past the best keeper in the league... and he saves it. Quite a spectacular save if you ask me. Top notch."

"I'm not even married yet you twat," Ginny smirked, as Oliver threw the Quaffle to Angelina who caught it easily before zooming down the pitch.  

"Just trying to help you get used to hearing yourself be referred to as a Potter while out and about in civilized society," Oliver quipped, eyes glued to Angelina who was making her way towards Ron who was already beginning to get just a little bit flustered. While he'd never seen Ron play keeper, having made the team long after he and Oliver graduated, he had heard from others that he was shaky at best. Took him awhile to adjust to playing in front of people, with his girlfriend here to witness this game the added stress was causing him to lose his focus.  

"It's Angelina with the Quaffle again as she makes her way to the hoops. What's this? Bill and Ginny are attempting to run interference keeping her from being able to fly her way out of this one. She has no other option but to throw the Quaffle to Percy who is making his debut as chaser this evening. He catches the Quaffle like a pro, the crowd goes wild. They are all on their feet, their screams a deafening roar as he charges down the pitch towards the poor unsuspecting keeper. Wouldn't want to be him. He shoots- he scores! The middle hoop people, a little predictable maybe but with a fantastic little arse like his, who cares? Score is now 20-0 thanks to the dashingly handsome redhead who looks bloody fantastic seated on a broomstick."

He turned around to face Oliver, who's commentary had effectively stopped the game as everyone started howling with laughter. His ears were burning red from the mention of his looks being desirable, he knew the words held some truth to them. Oliver was never one to hand out idle compliments just because. "Would you please stop?" he put his wand to his throat so Oliver could hear him across the pitch. 

"Just let the boy comment on the game how he sees fit," Bill said, slinging an arm around his shoulder and ruffling his hair like they used to when they were kids. 

"It's sweet," Ginny replied, practically melting off her broom as she glanced between the two of them. "If he didn't find you so attractive, I would be forced to beat him up in the locker rooms the next time our teams played each other."

"I for one could go without the knowledge that Oliver appreciated my brother's arse," Ron remarked, his face turning a violent shade of crimson. 

"No one asked you Ronald," George snapped, turning to grin at Oliver who looked rather pleased with himself as he sat in front of the hoops just watching the effect his words had on the way his siblings treated him. Realization began to dawn on him that perhaps Oliver was trying to help him out in the only way that he really knew how, or he just wanted to distract the other team so they would have the advantage. Either way he had to admit it wasn't a bad plan. 

Clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention Fred cleared his throat. "As nice as it is knowing that there is someone in the world who genuinely wants our big brother, I think that we should get our heads back in the game."

After about half an hour the score was 80-10 in favor of his team, mainly due to the fact that Angelina was being merciless with Ron who was struggling to remember all of Angelina's tricks and the fact that Oliver had really gotten quite good in the past few years. He had always been an excellent keeper but since joining the starting line up with Puddlemere he had really flourished into a fantastic player. He couldn't be sure but the one goal he let in might have been a pity goal since he probably was just a little bit worried about Ginny beating him up at some point. Oliver was nothing if not chivalrous and would never hit a woman off the Quidditch pitch, giving Ginny a unique advantage over the burly keeper. 

The commentary was becoming more and more animated as the game progressed. Oliver was really getting the hang of it and seemed to be enjoying himself, especially when it came to getting in little digs at the other players who just let it roll off their shoulders. It was the way he said it and the fact that he would always grin at them that let them know that he wasn't actually serious, it was all in good fun. 

"The score is now 90-10 with my team in the lead. Neither of the seekers have found the snitch yet but that is probably because Charlie is daydreaming about dragons and Harry is staring at the clouds waiting for them to make shapes for him," Oliver's voice boomed, both seekers turning to glare at him. To be fair they had been sitting in their own little worlds and Harry had been watching the clouds pass over him for at least a few minutes. Neither one of them seemed too concerned with ending this game anytime soon. "It's Bill with the Quaffle now in a unique turn of events. What's this? Angelina comes out of nowhere forcing him to swerve out of the way and drop the Quaffle, now it's Angelina with the ball as she sweeps down the pitch leaving Bill in the dust. Ginny isn't going to let her get away with it, chasing after her as with the same ferocity that she chased after Harry, the boy who lived-died-then lived again, during their time at Hogwarts. How did that song go again Ginny? 'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad' wasn't it?"

"WOOD!" Ginny screeched, halting in midair to turn around and face Oliver who was grinning ear to ear. "I was eleven years old when I wrote that!"

"Angelina scores yet again bringing the overall score to 100-10 in favor of my team!" Oliver pumped his fist in the air, obviously ecstatic with the fact that they were winning the game. Even if Harry wasn't exactly making any serious attempts to grab the snitch. 

"Foul!" Ginny screamed at Oliver, shaking her fist at him. "Where is Hermione? We need an official ruling. That was a blatant attempt at distracting me! I demand that I get a penalty shot for such unsportsmanlike behavior being displayed by the captain of Puddlemere United!"

The twins had forgone their jobs as beaters, arms slung around each other they broke out into a rousing chorus of the Valentine that Ginny sent Harry during her first year of school. Swaying back and forth as they raised their beater bats into the air. Neither of them were particularly good singers, coupled with the fact that they were practically screaming the lyrics that apparently they had memorized and it made for quite the ruckus. 

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
the hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

Hermione looked appropriately nervous, no one wanted to have the wrath of Ginevra Weasley brought down upon them. "He never moved from his goal posts," Hermione began hesitantly, wincing at the glare she received from Ginny. "Technically the keeper committed no foul. No penalty shot awarded to the opposing team."

"Hah!" Oliver grinned triumphantly, sticking his tongue out at Ginny who returned the gesture. "You don't get a penalty shot," he fake mocked her which only made his sister's eyes narrow further. Having grown up with her, he knew the look well. Oliver was coming really close to a beat down. 

"Traitor!" Ginny yelled in Hermione's direction. A half-hearted attempt was made on her part to feign anger at one of her best mates. "Us women have to stick together. We are sorely outnumbered in this family and you go and side with a boy? A boy who plays for an opposing team to the Holyhead Harpies at that!"

By this point Harry had flown over to sit near him, watching the chaos that was erupting in the middle of their game. Ginny was still going on about Hermione's perceived slight against her and all womankind for that matter. Oliver wasn't helping the situation by continuing to tease Ginny so she stayed flustered, while the twins were now singing the Valentine's day song as if it were a funeral procession. Calling back to their days at Hogwarts when they would keep everyone waiting at the Welcome Back feasts with their rendition of the school song. "You should have heard the twins and Oliver in the Quidditch locker rooms," he mused. "For nearly three months I was treated to rousing renditions of those lyrics before and after practice. At one point those three even choreographed dance moves to accompany them."

"That I would pay to see," he replied, trying to suppress a grin at the thought that Oliver and the twins got together in their free time to choreograph a dance just for the purposes of annoying twelve year old Harry. He had to admit that he found it slightly endearing, during school Oliver had a reputation for being a Quidditch nut. Most considered him far too hard on his team and he was heavily criticized for it. What most didn't realize was that he actually cared a great deal for his teammates, while he was certainly tough he also knew how to relax and just have fun with them as well. That is what kept the mutinies at bay when he suggested yet another practice in the pouring rain.

"I thought you were all playing Quidditch?" his dad's voice echoed through the mass mayhem, causing everyone to turn and look at the slightly confused man staring up at them. 

Bill looked down at his dad, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat at trying to control the situation. "There was disagreement over whether Ginny would be awarded a penalty shot," Bill explained, glossing over the details that led to the breakdown of their Quidditch match. "Things sort of took a downhill turn from there."

"Ah," his dad warmly chuckled, shaking his head at his grown children whose current behavior was reminiscent of when they lived at home. During the summer months it was not uncommon for Arthur Weasley to come home after a long day at the Ministry to find his children in an all-out brawl over some Quidditch related issue. "Makes perfect sense now. Well, best come down from the air. Molly has dinner ready so you all need to get washed up. 

Thirteen heads bobbed up and down signaling that they understood the instructions. Landing on the ground everyone packed up their brooms, Oliver, Charlie, and the twins set about rounding up all of the balls used during the game. Watching as his date easily fit in with the rest of the Weasley siblings and their partners. Peels of laughter came as Oliver said something that was apparently insanely funny, Charlie bumped his shoulder good-naturedly causing Oliver to grin and give him a light bump back. 

This was certainly what he wanted in a permadate. Someone who could walk into a Weasley function and act as if they belonged. A seamless integration into his chaotic family. 

For a second he found himself wishing that it wasn't all fake. 

Chapter Text

"In the time we've spent together I have learned to trust in you. So many things you've given before I even asked you to, but reality and romance are sometimes far apart. So what I really need to know is can I trust you with my heart? Can I cast my cares upon you? Can you stand the heavy load? Can I count on you to walk me down that long and winding road? If you promise me these simple things I can guarantee, you can always count on me." Travis Tritt- Can I Trust You With My Heart

For a second he found himself wishing that it wasn't all fake. 

A momentary lapse of reason was the only explanation for his current thought process. Of course it was all supposed to be fake, that was the entire point of this slightly insane endeavor. Pretend to date for awhile so they could enjoy the company of someone they didn't mind spending time with when suffering through uncomfortable work functions. In his case that also extended to mandatory Weasley family responsibilities which he was expected to uphold, the major one being the upcoming wedding of his little sister which he was not permitted to attend alone according to his mother. 

Fred and George appeared on either side of him as if out of nowhere, throwing their arms around his shoulders with matching grins plastered across their freckled faces. Something that in the past never worked out well for him. His trepidation only increased when they simultaneously slowed their pace to put a bit of distance between themselves and the others up ahead. Oliver was chatting with Harry and Angelina about the Quidditch game they just played, which according to him they won despite the fact that neither seeker even came close to catching the snitch. Ginny and Charlie had a different take on the outcome of the game leading to a rather loud argument between them that he hoped would not carry over into dinner. 

While he liked Quidditch well enough he didn't really care to sit and discuss it for several hours while simultaneously dealing with whatever his mother had in store for him this evening. Seeming to notice his date was nowhere near him Oliver glanced over his shoulder, seeing the twins with their arms around their older brother he raised his eyebrows mouthing, "you good?" 

With a nod he signaled there was no need for his date to swoop in to save him from his meddlesome twin brothers. While Oliver didn't seem entirely convinced he thankfully respected the wishes of his friend, one last look let him know should he require his services all he needed to do was scream. Turning back around Oliver easily resumed his conversation with the others, as if his attention was never diverted in the first place.  

"Does he treat you well?" asked George in a quiet voice, a sincere look in his brown eyes which normally portrayed nothing except levity and a desire for laughter in even the most serious of situations. 

"Cause if he doesn't then you just let us know," Fred took his fist and punched the air several times to demonstrate what would happen to Oliver if he ever emotionally or physically harmed their older brother. "We will take care of him, along with Charlie and Bill. Ginny would probably tag along as well. That girl is a whiz with the hexes if you remember." 

He did- vividly. "It's Oliver for Merlin's sake! He is one of your best mates. What has gotten into you two?"

"Just looking out for you," they said in unison, giving each other a look he knew he would never be able to understand. Somehow they could communicate with each other without saying a single word, a habit that started during their early childhood. With one brief glance it was as if they could formulate, communicate, and execute an entire plan that would leave his mother frazzled and screaming for one of her older sons to control the unruly behavior. Usually a responsibility which fell to him, always the one who was expected to step in to stop the merriment and chaos that always seemed to follow in the twins' footsteps.

Something that carried over well into his Hogwarts' years causing him to become widely unpopular and the target of many of his brothers' pranks.  

"Not that we don't like Oliver," said Fred, ruffling his older brother's hair. "We love him if we are being honest, think of him as sort of an honorary Weasley of sorts."

George nodded his head at his brother's statement, lowering his voice to fake whisper, "don't tell him that though. His ego will inflate and make it nearly impossible to be around him. Got to keep him humble so he doesn't get the wrong impression."

"Now answer our earlier question. Does Oliver treat you well?" demanded Fred, he and George stopping so suddenly that it caused him to be jerked backwards. 

A little warning would have been preferable, he mused to himself while moving his neck around in a circular motion to work out the kinks from being tussled about like a Quaffle.  

Seeing no other way out of this situation that didn't involve running for his life towards the Burrow he figured he would appease their weird display of brotherly affection and protectiveness. "Yes, he treats me better than I deserve," his answer was honest, perhaps a tad bit too honest due to their relationship being a sham meant to fool his mother so she would simply leave him alone for once. However, that didn't change the fact that Oliver had been absolutely wonderful these past few days. Stepping into a role so flawlessly that at times it was difficult to remember they hadn't actually been dating for three months and eventually this would all have to end. 

"I highly doubt that," Fred rolled his eyes at him as though his statement was the single stupidest thing he had ever heard in his life.  

George jostled his shoulders like he often did when showing affection to their other siblings, something he hadn't been the recipient of in recent memory. "Considering that you deserve someone who treats you with the appropriate amount of respect. Perhaps even spoils you if the occasion calls for it."

While he tried not to be offended by George's statement it was certainly difficult to not let the phrasing bother him just a little bit. There was certainly an income difference between him and Oliver, however that was not the reason he chose to ask the man to be his permadate. The idea that anyone would even entertain the idea that he was in any way using Oliver for his money made his stomach turn unpleasantly. "I don't need to be spoiled," he snapped at them, trying to wiggle out of their grip which only tightened on his shoulders to hold him in place. 

"No one needs to be spoiled," Fred grinned at him, both he and George starting to walk towards the house again with their arms still slung over his shoulders. "Sure, is fun to be though, even more fun to do the spoiling if I am being honest."

He couldn't really argue with that point. Having grown up always being given hand me downs from their older brothers, including wands and other school supplies, new things which were just theirs was a new experience. One that neither him nor his siblings had the pleasure of fully understanding until they were out in the workforce and making their own money. Remembering the first paycheck he ever received from his job at the Ministry, at the time the possibilities felt endless. There was also the accompanying sense of overwhelming guilt that caught him by surprise at the time.

Spending it all on himself felt selfish when he knew his parents could use the extra cash. While they refused any money from him that year, he lived with them spending it still felt wrong somehow. The only time he wasn't boring and practical Percy had been at Christmas when he lavished his siblings with gifts he otherwise could not have afforded. His parents were not impressed with his generosity that year, now he kept the gifts simple to avoid enduring a repeat of the lecture he received from his mum about wasting money that could have been saved or put towards other pursuits. Those other pursuits being lavishing a nice girl with dates so he could settle down and provide his parents with the grandchildren they desired. 

"Does our former Quidditch captain make you happy?" George asked, the back door to the Burrow drawing nearer with each step. Looking over he saw that same serious look from earlier mirrored in his twin's eyes. 

Squirming under their intense gazes he decided to focus on the ground in front of him. Unused to being the recipient of so much affection while secretly being quite pleased to have his siblings so worried about him being treated fairly by the person they believed to be his romantic partner. "I am happy," he answered, no need to tell them that up until very recently that sentence would have been a downright lie. Happiness was not an emotion in abundance throughout his daily life during the past few years. 

"Good!" the twins replied simultaneously, nodding at each other over his head as though they were confirming their brotherly duty was successfully completed. 

"He certainly is happy with you," Fred cooed at him, finally adopting his usual teasing tone which he was actually quite fond of if he was being honest with himself. 

"You are a million times better for him than that arsehole Timothy he dated over a year or so ago," George explained, as though he should know all about this Timothy person. Considering they told everyone they had been together for three months he supposed technically he should. Unfortunately it was less than a week and he was completely lost at this point in the conversation. 

Nodding his head along with them, trying desperately to not give away their lie before dinner even began. He could only imagine the carnage if his mum found out that in less than twenty four hours she learned one of her sons was gay, dating a Quidditch player, plastered all over the newspaper and magazines, and oh by the way none of the relationship was real to start with. All just one big hoax, the sole purpose being to give said son a break from the constant reminders that he was single and needed to find someone. "Timothy is the absolute worst," he replied weakly, using some context clues to deduce that whoever this Timothy person was he probably wasn't a great guy. More than likely he had broken Oliver's heart from the dark looks that passed over his brothers' faces at the mere mention of the name. 

"You would never make our sweet little Ollie cry like that would you Perce?" Fred asked, switching gears mid-conversation so suddenly it practically gave him whiplash.

Now apparently Fred and George were checking to make sure their older brother had no intentions to emotionally scar their former Quidditch captain. He wasn't exactly sure how they intended to accurately check that possibility, there was only one answer someone could possibly give to a loaded question like that. Saying yes would not be good for his health, certainly wouldn't put it past his brothers to smack him in the mouth if he admitted to having plans to purposefully hurt one of their best mates. "Nope, no such plans on my end."

His younger brothers seemed pleased with his answer, he was just thankful they made it easy for him to play along. Subtlety was not their specialty so he hadn't unknowingly walked into a trap exposing the fact that he knew next to nothing about Oliver's past few years. Though they talked for several hours about what they'd both been up to since they last spoke most of it was centered around their careers. The subject of past lovers had not yet been broached by either of them. Given the way Fred phrased the question let him know this former relationship was likely a sore subject with Oliver, something he would keep in mind when the time came for the two of them to have that particular conversation.

Whoever Timothy was he hated him with every fiber of his being, simply for the fact that he obviously caused Oliver a great deal of pain. Ignoring the gnawing guilt that at one point in his life he probably caused the man a similar amount of pain. The knowledge that Oliver probably cried about his former best mate's betrayal of trust brought a lump to his throat that stubbornly refused to move. Somehow, he was going to have to find a way to make up for the fact that he broke Oliver's heart all those years ago. 

"What is taking you three so long?" his mother's voice came from the doorway of the Burrow, standing with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping impatiently while they leisurely strolled about the back garden. 

"Sorry mum," George said sheepishly, like most of the Weasley siblings when it came to their mother, they simply lacked the ability not to somewhat resort back to their former childhood selves when standing in her presence. 

Fred had a similar look on his face, trying to defuse his mum's growing anger with his signature grin and good humor. "Just having a little brotherly chat is all mum. Doing our due diligence as Percy's younger brothers to ensure his new boyfriend is living up to our high Weasley standards."

"There will be plenty of time to chat later," his mum chided them as though they were in fact still small children. The look of disapproval that flashed across her face at the word 'boyfriend' turning his ears a bright shade of red. "Dinner is getting cold and we are all waiting for you three."

With horror the realization struck him that while he was being accosted by the twins poor Oliver was left alone with his family, more importantly alone with his mum without him there to ensure he wasn't being verbally bashed in any way. Breaking free of the twins he practically sprinted into the house after Oliver, who for all he knew was lying curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor after having insults hurled at him. While his rational brain knew that possibility was not likely he couldn't help but allow his stomach to tie itself in knots as he imagined every horrible fate which could have possibly befallen his date.

"Hey Perce!" Oliver greeted him with a smile, slightly faltering when he saw the wild look in his date's eyes as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen breathing heavy. "Saved you a seat next to me."

Staring around the room in disbelief it took him several seconds to realize his family had not ganged up on Oliver in his absence, it seemed as if they had been having a pleasant conversation before he ran into the room like a crazy person.

Everything seemed normal. Perhaps suspiciously a bit too normal, he thought, as his anxiety started to take over the thinking portion of his brain. Oliver was seated next to Harry and Ginny with Bill and Fleur on his other side, none of them looked particularly angry or upset. The only thing that was rather odd was Oliver's flushed cheeks while Harry looked generally exasperated casting occasional side glances towards his grinning fiance, which told him perhaps Ginny had been pumping for information on the details of the more intimate moments of their supposed relationship. Slowly making his way to the seat next to Oliver he scanned the faces of his additional family members and their significant others, watching for any sign someone had said something to hurt his date's feelings. 

"You good?" Oliver asked warily, not really understanding why he was suddenly acting so weird. 

"Yeah," he replied, sinking down into the chair in relief that the situation had not deteriorated while he was outside with the twins. "Just realized how hungry I was all of a sudden."

Oliver's face suggested he knew there was more to the behavior than just hunger pains, however seeing as they were in front of the entire Weasley family he thought better than to pry into the matter any further. "Uh huh."

Ginny was practically vibrating as she bounced in her seat desperately trying to hold something in, Harry was attempting to give her a knock it off motion with his hand however the defeat in his eyes revealed that he knew the endeavor was in vain. "Is Oliver the one who got away?" his sister blurted out, ignoring the groans of Harry and several of her brothers who really didn't care to hear the details of what the two men in question supposedly got up to in their private lives.  

Midway through filling his plate with his mother's cooking he froze in shock, gravy dripping off the spoon hitting the edge of his plate as it spilled out onto the elongated table. Looking over to Oliver he knew his date was going to be absolutely no help in this situation, the man actually had the audacity to look amused at his discomfort. While his cheeks were tinged a slightly deeper shade of red the traitor's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter while his eyebrow was raised in a silent question. 

Never had he felt such utter betrayal by one person in his entire life. 

He read somewhere that centuries ago human beings developed certain physical reactions similar to those who feared predators in the wild. Unlike the animals in his book, he could see the threat. The majority of them had shocks of red hair and all of them were staring intently at him and Oliver. Watching their every move, analyzing the verbal and non-verbal cues to determine the details of their current relationship while trying to deduce if perhaps there was a sordid past romantic history between the two of them. 

"Ginny please," Harry pleaded on behalf of his friend and his future brother-in-law. 

Ginny was not to be deterred, plowing ahead with her detective work. "Look at them Harry! The two of them are practically turning crimson at the moment. They haven't spoken in years due to an event that neither of them is exactly chatty nor forthcoming about. Only to reunite years later after a chance encounter while waiting for takeaway, a cup of coffee later and they are practically dating. Smells awful suspicious to me. I think they had a little thing with each other years ago and broke up only to pine after each other for several years. Once they both saw their chance to finally have what they really wanted they practically jumped at the chance."

"Jumped each other to be more exact," Fleur supplied with a smirk. Ginny and the traitor joined in on her giggling while the rest of the family existed on two ends of the spectrum. They either looked as if they wanted to hide underneath the table at the idea that details of their brother's romantic endeavors were about to be shared or they were highly intrigued and eager for more juicy details. 

Oliver leaned over with a wicked grin on his face, his mouth nearly touching his date's ear he whispered, "should I tell them how we never would have worked back then? That you only wanted me for my body, and it took you years to realize I was more than just a hot piece of arse."

"Oliver!" he began, shaking his head at his date's infuriatingly innocent look as if he hadn't just purposefully tried to get him riled up. "I swear to Merlin if you say anything of the sort I will ensure that I am always on your team during family Quidditch games, and we will lose. We will lose by so many points that the humiliation will haunt you well into the afterlife."

Fred clapped his hands together, being on the delighted end of the spectrum he was eager to learn what secrets were about to be shared. "Well? Come on out with it you two. What did Oliver say?"

"I-" Oliver began with a teasing grin at his date only to be cut off when he found a hand over his mouth. 

"Nothing! Oliver said nothing if he knows what's good for him," narrowing his eyes at his cheeky date to convey he was incredibly serious about this. No mention of either of the two kisses they previously shared were to be revealed tonight, he didn't care how fantastic both of those kisses were or how his stomach fluttered excitedly at the thought that perhaps they were actually flirting with each other in this moment. Though, he couldn't be quite sure the whole fake dating premise made it difficult to accurately tell. 

Removing the hand from his mouth Oliver seemed to think for a minute, a grin spread across his face as he stared at his panicking date. "I know one thing that's good for me," with a wink he turned back to his food completely ignoring the chaos he left in his wake. 

The girls at the table were all causing a commotion over Oliver's 'sweet statement' as they called it, along with Fred and George who were replaying the conversation for everyone just in case they missed it the first time. Taking turns being Oliver and Percy, sometimes switching mid-conversation and confusing even themselves. He thought about trying to regain control of the situation, after some careful consideration he decided it was a lost cause. Instead, he chose to glare at Oliver who looked thoroughly pleased with himself, even having the audacity to smile at him as though he had done nothing to cause this situation to get out of hand. 

"I'm not going to sit next to the two of you if you keep this up," Harry halfheartedly threatened, playfully smacking Oliver on the shoulder who just shrugged in response. 

"All right Weasleys and all honorary Weasleys!" his dad got their attention, walking into the kitchen with his wife who looked disgruntled for whatever reason. "Let's settle down and eat this lovely food Molly has cooked up for us. You have truly outdone yourself my dear."

Watching his dad place a kiss on his mum's lips he knew one thing he never had to question growing up was that his parents truly loved each other. They were as much in love today as the day they married, something he hadn't realized was so rare until he attended Hogwarts and learned how many of his classmates' parents didn't really care for each other very much. Oliver included in that group, having said multiple times that the only reason his parents were still together was because they were simply too lazy to go through the divorce process. Choosing instead to co-exist in one house but as completely separate entities, more like roommates than husband and wife. 

Charlie and Bill glanced at each other from across the table rolling their eyes in unison. "So," Charlie cleared his throat. "Anything new and exciting going on in anyone's lives that I haven't already heard about?"

"I burned all of the replies my friends wrote me when I was trying to find you a date to your little sister's upcoming wedding," his mum directed her penetrating gaze at her third oldest son, stabbing at a potato with her fork. "I haven't worked up the emotional energy to write back to all of them yet to inform them my son is in fact gay and apparently dating some big shot Quidditch player. Something that would have been nice to know when I suggested the plan in the first place. Though, I suppose the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly will tell them for me since the two of you are plastered all over the pages from your little date or whatever you two call it."

The silence that followed was deafening. Fourteen heads swiveled to stare in shock at the matriarch of the Weasley family who acted as if she simply made a comment about the lovely spring weather lately instead of an exceedingly rude and borderline cruel slight towards her son and his date. Nobody could find the words to utter a response, Harry who was sitting right next to Oliver put his hand on his back to rub comforting circles in a brotherly gesture. Watching Oliver's face intently for any sign that he was in need of someone stepping in on his behalf, the hesitant expression on Harry's face conveying his conflicting desire to not anger his future mother-in-law and the need to protect one of his best mates. 

Feeling his blood boil at the nerve of his mother for even thinking such a statement was in anyway appropriate when they were in front of other people, not to mention that his date was sitting right there and had no part in his decision to not tell his family about his sexuality. He took a few deep breaths, hands flexing into and out of fists as he tried to control himself so he wouldn't lash out unnecessarily at his mother. While there was plenty he wanted to say he also knew that unbridled rage would only further escalate the situation and would not help Oliver in any way. Angelina seemed to not share his belief, George and Fred were having a difficult time getting her to stay sitting and George was fervently shaking his head at her in an attempt to keep her from retaliating.  

"It's not Percy's-" Bill started to defend his younger brother. 

"So-" his dad turned to Oliver, cutting off any potential replies to his mother's inappropriate outburst to Charlie's innocent question. "Was Friday night your first Ministry function?"

"Yes," Oliver answered in a polite tone, though he could tell from his facial expressions it was a bit of a struggle to keep control over his emotions. Having similar feelings towards his mother's underhanded comment he reached over to briefly pat Oliver's hand, offering him a small but encouraging smile. Confirmation that his date was doing wonderfully and trying to convey how grateful he was that Oliver had been willing to go along with the plan in the first place. 

"I hope it wasn't too boring for you," his dad replied, trying desperately to keep an upbeat tone to his voice. Never letting the conversation lull in case anyone had a reply ready to hurl at his wife for her biting remark.

"Not at all," Oliver played along with the façade, probably eager as well to avoid a potential fight. "In fact, it was actually quite a bit of fun. I got to see Percy in his natural habitat, schmoozing the Ministry officials and wowing them with his brilliant insights into transportation related issues."

Oliver turned his head to give him a pat on the hand, his nose wrinkling in a way he noted as being kind of adorable and made his head feel a little fuzzy as he stared into his date's eyes. Oliver's smile so contagious that it even caused his date to genuinely smile in return, a site that most of the Weasleys had not witnessed in several years. A cough from across the table brought him back to reality enough to realize that every pair of eyes at the long dinner table were intently watching the two of them. Feeling his cheeks turn a deep shade of red he let go of Oliver's wand hand, not missing the way his date's hand twitched as if he wanted to continue the tingling sensation of their fingers intertwined. 

His dad offered a polite smile and nod. "I am sure that was something. Our Percy certainly does love his career."

Oliver's shoulders tensed at the obvious slight against his date's ambitions, conflicting emotions waring each other in his eyes as he stared in disbelief at his date's father. Harry's hand briefly stopped rubbing circles on his back at the sudden tension before starting back up again, a panicked expression on his face. This dinner was deteriorating quickly. 

"Several of the people in Percy's department as well as most of the Ministry officials are donors or on the board for the British/Irish Quidditch league so I knew several of them," Oliver explained quickly, potentially realizing he unintentionally hit on a sore subject with the Weasleys but not knowing exactly how to recover. "Certainly helped to give us all something to talk about that we had in common. In fact, Percy here has a meeting with Stewart Crawford who is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister to discuss his rather innovative ideas regarding broomstick regulations. When we were sitting at dinner the entire table was simply enthralled with his explanation of the methods which could be used to increase safety while at high speeds without interfering with the performance that someone in my field of work would require. I offered to be a Guinea pig for his presentation so he could practice before the big day. Quite looking forward to hearing his insights, as long as they don't ruin my fun zipping around on my deathtrap of a racing broom of course."

Oliver's teasing tone caused him to narrow his eyes at him in mock anger. There was no way he could ever be truly angry with such a wonderful person. Not many people would willingly sit at dinner with his entire family and praise his ideas and accomplishments at the Ministry. While he hadn't exactly brought home many dates, by that he meant a total of zero before Oliver, there was no doubt in his mind that finding someone who would do such a thing unprompted was truly rare. 

"Well now we know he likes you," muttered Ron, who looked like he might be ill from watching Oliver compliment and lightly tease his older brother who couldn't seem to stop staring into his date's eyes.

"It's sweet," Fleur stepped in on their behalf, putting her hand on her husband's shoulder with a lovestruck expression of her own. "Reminds me of the way Bill and I were when we first started dating. Don't you remember my love? We would just stare into each other's eyes and we simply couldn't keep our hands off each other."

Now it was Bill's turn to blush crimson as he nodded his head at his wife. While Fleur was just trying to be helpful what she said had the exact opposite effect from what she intended. The last thing his mother wanted to hear was that his relationship with Oliver was anything like Bill and Fleur's relationship. 

"Perhaps a change of topics is in order," his mum huffed, violently cutting into her Sunday roast topped with gravy. "I don't think intimate details of a relationship should be shared at the dinner table and talk of work needs to be kept to a minimum." 

"Yes," his father agreed, with a pointed look at his third eldest son as if he was somehow ruining dinner with the second-hand mention of his work at the Ministry. "There will be plenty of time on another day to discuss meetings and specific details of Ministry work."

Oliver was stunned speechless. Looking to his former seeker for some guidance on what just happened all poor Harry could do was mouth "explain later" with the same panicked look in his eyes as before. While no words were ever spoken the fact that Harry's hand had not quit rubbing Oliver's back was silent confirmation for which side he would take in the event of an argument. He had to admit it was rather sweet, while he knew Harry and Oliver had always been on friendly terms and certainly had grown closer as adults the extent of their friendship took him a little bit by surprise. Yet another thing to add to his growing list of things he was learning about Oliver. 

Charlie and Bill shared another glance across the table seeming to silently agree on a course of action. "Looking forward to hearing more about this meeting of yours Perce!" Charlie said brightly, his tone far too chipper to be real. "Tomorrow night, you and me. Let's get together after work and you can fill me in on all the brilliant things you said Friday night."

"Wonderful idea Charlie!" Bill agreed, his tone had a similar false peppiness to it. "Perhaps after your meeting this week Fleur and I can take you and Oliver out for a dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate. No need to be worried that it won't go well. You will blow this Crawford person away with your insights into broom regulations."

While he appreciated what his older brothers were trying to do all he wanted to do in this moment was curl up into a ball and hide away from the world. This was the exact reason why he never spoke of his work or his ambitions at the Ministry in front of his family, certainly never in the presence of his parents. The contempt for his aspirations in life was something that he had sadly grown used to. Not that Oliver could have known any of that coming into this dinner, looking back on it he supposed that giving him a list of topics to stay away from would have been useful for this evening. Perhaps he would make one for future get togethers if Oliver didn't run from the house screaming after this. 

For a while, the only sounds were the scraping of utensils against plates and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He would never admit it to Oliver or anyone else, but his relationship with his father was always better with his siblings around. On a good day it was strained at best, even with the addition of the other people but they at least made the lengthy silences manageable. Without the others the current situation would be more than his frazzled nerves could handle. 

It wasn't that he didn't love his father, or that he thought his father didn't love him. They just didn't understand each other. He wasn't sure when exactly the divide between them began, perhaps it was always there. Somewhere along the way the two of them had gotten lost. Something told him it started when he was a child and put into a rather precarious situation. While he wasn't the oldest of his siblings he was the one who relished in being handed responsibility, the most willing to help with the day to day care of his younger brothers and sister. He was the one who his mother most relied on to help her with chores and with watching his siblings while she tried to keep the house from falling in around them.

He always assumed his father resented him just a little bit for that. Having to step in during the day to be that second parent that his mother needed so desperately while his father was at work to be able to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads. Perhaps his father felt judged by his son for having to work such long hours, for having so many children, not being a good disciplinarian, and never seeming to have enough money to be able to provide everyone with what they wanted. Though he never failed to notice that his father somehow always managed to provide his family with everything they needed, not once did he ever grow up knowing what hunger pains were or wondering where they were going to sleep at night. 

His siblings had certainly resented him for being a second parent figure, too strict and focused on the rules to just loosen up and have a good time with them. While he was chasing after the younger ones that left Charlie and Bill free to run around outside, they were the ones that got to be the good guys while he was stuck being a disciplinarian when his mother wasn't around. Once his two eldest brothers went off to Hogwarts they became more like fun uncles who come to visit on occasion bringing fun treats for everyone than true older brothers. The age gap between them was just too large for either of them to have a true sibling relationship with the younger ones.

He was stuck somewhere in the middle, a boy who hadn't realized that by focusing so heavily on being the perfect son that he would forget how to just be a brother. 

"How is the wedding planning going?" Oliver asked Ginny, one last desperate attempt to salvage this horrendous evening and get everyone back to the easy conversation present during their earlier Quidditch game.

Ginny quit glaring at her mother long enough to offer Oliver a kind smile, reaching across her fiance to squeeze his muscular forearm. "Splendid. Now that we are past the large decisions it is just managing all of the small details. You, Fleur, and I need to get together to ensure that your suit coordinates with Percy's. He is an usher for the wedding so I have assigned you that duty as well since now we know why neither of you put a plus one on your RSVP. Sneaky little boys, pretending like you weren't going to come to the wedding together."

"Yes," Fleur agreed. "You must make sure that you do not clash with your date. We wouldn't want the pictures to be ruined because the colors of your ties clashed or the suits looked mismatched and thrown together."

Ginny and Fleur shuddered at the idea that the wedding pictures or overall aesthetics of the wedding would be ruined by such a fashion faux pas. He actually found it quit funny in a way that Ginny leaned so heavily on Fleur's expertise while planning her wedding; considering that only a few years ago she simply despised Fleur and even went so far as to refer to her as phlegm to anyone who would let her. While he was glad that Bill had been able to repair some of the damage from their mum's hatred of Fleur poisoning the family against her he had to admit that he wasn't writing off the possibility for that to happen to him. The only upside was there was an easy out. He could simply end the agreement if his mum started trying to turn the family against his date who just spent the entire evening desperately trying to appease his parents.  

"I do appreciate the fact that neither of you marked a plus one though," Harry spoke for the first time, his voice a little shaky at the thought of a potential argument. "Certainly kept me from having a panic attack at the amount of money I am going to spend on buying everyone dinner."

Oliver scoffed, rolling his eyes at Harry's dramatics over money. "You are one of the richest wizards in Britain. I think you can buy dinner for yourself and a few hundred of your closest friends every once in a while."

"Alright Captain Wood," Harry snickered. "Keep it up and I will send you an invoice for you and your date's dinner. Recover some of my costs."

"I will be sure to put that invoice in my special filing spot," Oliver quipped, finally relaxing his shoulders a little bit now that the conversation was no longer resembling a mine field where he was unfortunately not doing well. 

His mum watched the interactions with a scowl on her face, the disapproval evident in her eyes. Not even trying to hide the fact that she did not care for Oliver, despite having almost zero interactions to base that hate off of. Yesterday shouldn't count in his opinion, she is the one who piled in on Oliver and started hurling accusations at him when he was just as blindsided as anyone else. Anything said should be written off as in the heat of the moment and therefore not able to used to base any long-term opinions of a person. "How much money do you make as captain of Puddlemere United? I have always been so curious," his mum asked, feigning innocence that her sudden curiosity had no ulterior motive when everyone once again was stunned into silence. 

"Molly-" his dad tried to step in on behalf of his son who scooted his chair closer to Oliver putting a protective arm around his waist and rubbing his arm with his free hand. 

"I am sure our son already knows Arthur. Considering that he is now apparently choosing his partners based on their income."

"MUM!" Charlie exclaimed, completely appalled at what he had just heard come out of his own mother's mouth. "That is not-"

His dad held up a hand at Charlie, turning to his wife. "Molly please- let's just have a nice dinner. Any concerns you might have can be discussed with Percy at a later date."

"Oh I have concerns!" his mum was really getting worked up now much to his horror. "I have plenty of concerns! My son, my own flesh and blood has chosen to be gay. To date some random boy that he picked up at a restaurant one evening. The same boy who sits at my kitchen table while flaunting his high income from being some famous Quidditch player. The only explanations I can think of are our son is either going through some sort of phase in which case it is appalling that someone would take advantage of such a vulnerable situation or he has allowed himself to be dazzled by this lifestyle lavished upon him. Either way I will not stand for it Arthur! He might have most of my children, honorary children, and their significant others fooled but he certainly doesn't have me fooled. My son might think it is love or whatever he calls this little fling of his but that is all it will ever be. A fling! Quidditch players are notoriously unfaithful and I will not stand by and watch my baby boy be flung about. Made a fool by some man who throws money at him with zero intentions of sticking around long term or being faithful."

If he thought the tension was bad before, that was nothing compared to the shift in overall mood after his mother's little rant. There was a line and she had just majorly stepped over it. Even his normally calm father who would always take his wife's side in an argument looked as if he was considering briefly switching sides for the first time in his entire marriage.  

"Quidditch players are notoriously unfaithful?" Angelina seethed, this time George made no attempt to stop his soon to be fiance. Having apparently decided that what his mum had just said was so unnecessarily ugly that he was no longer going to be functioning as a human buffer. 

"Your only daughter is a Quidditch player mother," Ginny reminded her mum, anger radiating off her in waves. "Is that what you think of my relationship? That I am going to cheat on Harry and leave him high and dry when I inevitably step out on him because apparently that is just what we do."

His mum glanced between the two women, starting to backtrack on some of her earlier statements. "No of course not. You two would never do something like that, I was speaking about the men in Quidditch. I read Witch Weekly and I see how every week they are photographed with new partners, always going through breakups and divorces. I just don't want that lifestyle to be imposed on my son is all."

"The men in Quidditch? The men in Quidditch?" Angelina's voice was rising in pitch. "Let me tell you something about the men in Quidditch Molly. You don't even know Oliver so for you sit there and make baseless assumptions about my-"

"Angie, it's fine really," Oliver attempted to stop her impending rant that he knew as well as anyone was simply a precursor to the screaming match which always followed. 

Angelina waved her hand at him dismissively. "It's not fine Oliver, now just sit over there and shut up while I handle this."

"I'm with Angie on this one Oliver," George shrugged, ignoring his former captain's pleading glances to not get involved and just let it go. "You tell them all about it love. Let my mum know about Ollie's impeccable character and how he is the last person in the world who would ever cheat on someone he is romantically involved with." 

"Top notch captain and one of the best mates you will ever have," Fred agreed, nodding his head along with several others at the table. "He would never cheat and especially not on my older brother. Besides lavishing expensive gifts and money on the people he is dating has never really been his style. Certainly not something that would have impressed our Percy. If anything, that sort of behavior would have been a huge turn off and we wouldn't all be sitting here having this lovely dinner."

The fact that Fred knew that about him shocked him almost as much as his mother's outburst a few minutes ago. He wasn't easily impressed by flashy presents or men who flaunted their money about like it was some personality trait they were particularly proud of. Had Oliver displayed any of those qualities over the past few days then he would have called the whole thing off. Arrogance was not something that he tended to tolerate well, and his affections were not for sale. "Fred is correct mother," he finally spoke up after having recovered from the initial shock of her words. "I am not easily impressed by men who flaunt their wealth around and I have not been dazzled by anything. Besides Oliver is not a random boy that I picked up, we were roommates at Hogwarts which I am sure you remember from my letters home and the few times he visited during the summer."

He was aware of Charlie and Bill whispering to each other out of the corner of his eye, unable to hear the exact words though he didn't need to in order to know what they were discussing. Bill cleared his throat, having apparently been designated as the official spokesperson. "I think what we need is just to all take a breath. Now perhaps Ron wants to take Mona home a little sooner than originally planned and I believe Hermione might have an early morning tomorrow at the Ministry. The rest of us just need to have a little family meeting where we can calmly discuss the issues brought up tonight."

From the look on Charlie's face, he could understand why Bill had been chosen as the one who would speak. His older brother looked positively murderous, as though he might start spewing fire like the dragons that he dedicated his life to saving and rehabilitating. Hermione did not have to be told twice, a quick goodbye and she practically fled from the Burrow. Something that he was wishing he could do right about now. Ron was a little harder to convince, didn't want to miss out on the impending action however after a few choice words from Bill and Charlie he reluctantly left with Mona whose stunned face suggested that she might not be frequenting Weasley family functions much anymore. 

Sitting with what was left of the Weasleys and soon to be Weasleys he felt the apprehension in his chest expanding as it threatened to crush the breath right out of him. Still sitting next to Oliver with his arm around his waist he noticed the sweat starting to form on his brow, a combination of the situation and the fact that he wasn't used to being this close to another body for such an extended period of time. Shifting in his chair to get more comfortable his arm briefly lost contact with Oliver who visibly stiffened, panic flashing in his eyes as he stared at his date who he probably feared was about to abandon him. Attempting to silently communicate that he had no such plans he tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear putting his arm back around Oliver and pulling him close, despite the rather serious conversation they were about to have he couldn't help but give a small smile at the way his date relaxed into him. 

Surprisingly it was his dad who spoke first. "Molly I think our guest deserves an apology along with our son. So far Oliver had been quite polite and I'm not sure that Witch Weekly is what we should be basing opinions off of," while his dad didn't yell or otherwise raise his voice the tone was one that he used often with his children when they disappointed him with their actions. A tone that none of his children ever heard him use with his wife. 

"I have nothing to apologize for," his mum insisted, folding her arms in defiance. "My son is the one who has chosen to be some Quidditch player's arm candy as the magazines call it."

Bill and Charlie were the first of his siblings to stand up, loudly defending their little brother and his date from their mother who previously decided their relationship was motivated by money without any having any tangible evidence to support her theories. His father looked shocked at the turn of events, glancing from his wife to his two oldest sons while blinking slowly. It was not until Angelina and Ginny joined in a few seconds later that his father stood up as well, switching sides to defend his wife. Not so much defending what she said but more to offer support and try to calm down the people who were screaming at her. From there everyone but Oliver, Harry, and himself joined in on the bashing of Molly Weasley. 

He wasn't exactly sure what to do in this moment. His base instinct was to come to his mother's aide, just as he had done in the past whenever one of his siblings started to yell at her. Looking over at Oliver he remembered the panicked expression on his date's face when his arm briefly lost contact with his waist, not really understanding what he could have possibly done in the past few days that would make Oliver trust him so completely that his mere presence would be enough to comfort him in a high stress situation. Tightening his grip around the man's waist to hold him even closer, all it took was Oliver leaning in slightly for him to realize that under no circumstances would he be defending anyone tonight except the person sitting in his arms. 

"Perhaps you should go!" Harry yelled to be heard over the rather loud commotion between his siblings and his parents. "I am thinking of dragging Ginny out of here anyways before she starts throwing bat bogie hexes around."

Seeing the way that his little sister was savagely letting her mother know exactly what she thought of her digs at Oliver's, and therefore, her career as a Quidditch player he had no doubt that the next step was for her to draw her wand and start hexing anything that moved. 

Oliver surprisingly shook his head, raising his voice so he could be heard over the multitude of waring voices. "I'm fine Harry; I appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself."

Harry's concerned eyes were locked on Oliver's, opening his mouth to probably try and argue for the two of them to just go ahead and make their exit from the hostile dinner table. 

"I think everyone who doesn't live here should just go!" his dad roared, his voice drowning out everyone else's. Taking a deep breath, he continued in a slightly calmer tone now that everyone had temporarily quit screaming at each other. "Let's just have a little bit of a cooling off period. We can discuss further when everyone can sit and calmly talk about their feelings on the matter."

"What matter dad?" Charlie asked, waving his hands around the table. "Mum has done nothing but attack Oliver and Percy since they sat down tonight. The only discussions should be an apology on her part for ruining dinner."

His dad gave his son a disapproving look, though his gaze softened just a bit as he considered his words. "Don't speak to your mother like that. She and I will be having a private conversation that is none of your concern."

"Charlie is right dad," Bill agreed, earning a nod from his wife who looked rather proud of her husband for standing up to his mother. "I am not sure what there is to discuss. You asked Oliver how the Ministry function went and when he answered the question you dismissed Percy's ambitions to one day be Minister of Magic. Then mum started in on accusing Oliver of things that are just not true. That Rita Skeeter is always writing garbage about people, I would think you would remember that from the horrible things she wrote about Harry all those years ago and from the claims she still makes regarding his relationship with your daughter. No one can trust a word she says about anything or anyone. Besides, Oliver had never really been in the gossip columns. Tends to be rather private about his life outside of Quidditch, which is incredibly smart to be honest."

"I did not dismiss anything-" his mum defended, ignoring her husband who was trying to shush her so everyone could just go home and be done with this horrendous evening. "I just don't understand why he is so intent on continuing with his work at the Ministry after everything this family had been through. He could have helped his twin brothers with their shop like Ron has chosen to do. Instead, he ran right back to the Ministry. I would have thought that he would have learned his lesson all those years ago when he abandoned his family for some job that he eventually quit anyways after realizing that we were in fact correct about the corruption that we warned him about. Now he is with someone who is pushing him to pursue this insane endeavor, to be loyal to the people who years ago tried to hunt down his own family."

The long-drawn-out groan from his father told him that this conversation was one that had previously only been in private between the two of them, not one that was supposed to be brought to light for others to hear. While he remembered his parents briefly mentioning the possibility of him going to work for his brothers after the war, he made it very clear that he wanted to return to the Ministry to help rebuild after all of the deatheaters were removed from power. He naively thought that his parents understood this ambition, or at least if they didn't fully understand it loved him enough to support him in his decision to return to the Ministry. A decision that not made without careful consideration on his part. Weeks of making pro and con lists, agonizing over every single detail until he analyzed the decision from every possible angle. Still unsure if what he was doing was the right decision, he had taken a leap of faith, trusted that what Kingsley said was true and the Ministry was a different place than before. The knowledge that his parents truly resented him for choosing to continue his career was enough to make his heart feel as though it was crumbling in on itself. His chest heavy with anxiety, unsure of how he was going to survive this most recent blow. 

"We are leaving," Oliver seethed through gritted teeth, standing up from his chair to grab his date's hand and pull him to his feet as well. "Come on Percy. Neither of us are staying in this house another minute longer."

"Wait," he whispered, feeling his knees starting to shake as though his legs would fail him at any second. Raising his gaze to his mother and father he felt the anger rise to the surface making it difficult to remain upright. A small squeeze on his hand confirmed his decision, giving him the courage he needed to say what he was thinking in this moment. "Neither Oliver nor I am stepping foot back into this house until we receive an apology from both of you," sounding braver than he felt he took a few seconds to just breathe before continuing on in a shaky voice. "You invited my date to dinner and have done nothing but attack him and I will not stand for it."

His knees were practically knocking together from the sheer force of will that it took to stand up to his parents like this. Normally he would have sat at the table with his head hung in shame while allowing his parents to berate him for his life choices. Taking a stand for himself was new territory and one that brought about the beginnings of an anxiety attack. Oliver seemed to be aware of his discomfort, keeping ahold of his hand he gently led him from the house and out into the cool night air where they could hear the muffled voices inside waring with each other again.

Hopefully most of those voices were for him instead of against him like the last time he walked out of the Burrow in anger.  

Sitting outside his childhood home on the front porch steps with nothing but the glow of the porchlight and the moon to illuminate the two of them he couldn't help but be just a bit thankful, were he standing in proper lighting then Oliver would be able to see just how red his face turned. He tried not to let his anxiety and embarrassment regarding this evening's events overwhelm him. Thankfully Oliver knew him well enough to not try and touch him right now, sitting near enough to him that he knew if he needed a hug then one was ready for him but far enough away that he had room to breathe and recover.  

"I'm sorry about tonight," he whispered, staring up at the moon to avoid looking directly at Oliver. His pulse drumming into his skull as the adrenaline from tonight slowly made its way out of his system. 

Feeling Oliver take his hands he met his gaze to find a soft understanding smile on his face. "Can't choose your family. Trust me, you have nothing to apologize for. You and your siblings did nothing wrong this evening. If fact you were all the only reason why I stuck around for dinner in the first place."

"The least we could do was feed you before putting you through my mother's cycle of insults," he attempted a feeble attempt at humor, Oliver's polite laughter ringing in his ears. Whether he actually found it funny or was just trying to keep the moment from becoming even more awkward he wasn't quite sure. 

Staring at him with a concerned look Oliver lightly squeezed his hands. "Don't stay away from your family too long Perce," he began somewhat hesitantly. "While your mum was certainly in the wrong in her own weird way she was just trying to look out for you."

"I don't-"

"Hear me out," Oliver interrupted gently, his tone soft making his Scottish accent sound thicker than normal. "I am not so naïve as to be unaware of the reputation that Quidditch players have when it comes to relationships. As a whole we aren't that great at them. Of course there are people who make it work and go on to have families, but overall we kind of suck at them. Your mum is not the first mother to have concerns that her child dating a famous Quidditch player will end badly. She was just more vocal about it than others, now I know where Ginny gets her biting tongue from," a warm chuckle that sent a shiver down his spine he scooted a little bit closer to Oliver. "Now, the whole part about you making a mistake working for the Ministry was way out of line. I would 100% hold out for an apology for that little comment. You are going to be the best head of department they have ever seen, no doubt in my mind that you are well on your way to Minister of Magic."

While he appreciated what Oliver was trying to do there was no way that he was going to allow him to defend his mum after what she said about his career in Quidditch. Something that he spent years putting massive amounts of effort into and dreamed about one day achieving. "She has never worried about Angelina or Ginny being a Quidditch player or their relationships. Why should mine be any different?"

"Angelina and Ginny were in their relationships at the onset of their careers," Oliver patiently explained, even managing a small smile. "It's different when you are first staring out vs. when you have been playing for the same team since you were eighteen years old. For one hopefully your income is exponentially larger which makes it harder to date unfortunately. That's why I was so pleased when you needed a permadate. You don't see me as a walking Gringotts' vault."

"I see your point," he sighed, knowing that later on Oliver was going to make some crack about his being right three times in the span of one week. The grin on his date's face confirmed his suspicions. "I still feel a need to somehow atone for tonight's disastrous dinner. Whatever you want."

"How about this?" Oliver contemplated his available options for a moment. "Why don't you accompany me to the Quidditch banquet in June and I will send the league's dumbest players to visit with you all night. You can learn all about the fire ants they are keeping as pets and the circumference of their biceps."

He scoffed at Oliver, thinking over the implications of the last sentence carefully. "Why would anyone keep any type of ants as pets? What happens when they escape their container?"

"Hence why they are in the category of the league's dumbest players," Oliver tapped the side of his head with his finger to demonstrate that critical thinking skills would be in short supply with some of the attendees at this banquet. "Not exactly known for their riveting conversation topics and stimulating intellect."

Cringing at the thought of being constantly surrounded by people who wouldn't be able to carry on an intelligent conversation he backpedaled a bit on his statement that he would allow Oliver to come up with his punishment for dragging him to the Burrow this evening. "Perhaps that is a little bit too harsh of a punishment for this evening's events. Why don't you send four of your dumbest players my way, staggering them throughout the evening so I don't kill off all my existing brain cells at once."

Oliver pretended to intently consider his counteroffer for a minute or so. Nodding his head occasionally while pretending to scribble onto a piece of imaginary parchment. "I am feeling generous this evening. Why don't we make it the two dumbest ones I can find and you join a group of us in a rousing round of who could bench press the most grown men and we will call it even."

"Why are you friends with these people?" he groaned, leaning his head against Oliver's shoulder. Feeling the man's arms wrap around him he reciprocated the action, arms around Oliver's waist he ran his along his back where he could feel the muscles underneath his jumper. 

"I am only friendly at functions," Oliver promised, also lightly running a hand along his date's back. "I don't tend to hang out with any of them in my spare time. I generally prefer men who know how to carry on an intelligent conversation and have ambitions that do not revolve around bulking up their muscles so they can boast about 'being the largest in the room' rather loudly. Funny until they do it in front of one of the managers who has a rather different take on their meaning."

Lifting his head from Oliver's shaking shoulders he received a suggestive wink, as if he didn't catch the drift of Oliver's meaning. "Well, now see. This just goes to show how little you actually know about me. I have been training in secret for several months now so I could wow people with my bulging biceps."

While he meant to be funny he thought that Oliver doubling over in laughter was just a bit insulting. He could work out if he really wanted to, spending hours focusing on the different muscle groups so he could fill out his suits a little bit more. He simply didn't want to. "I know that's a lie," Oliver gasped out. 

"I simply hide it well," he sniffed, still insulted at Oliver's reaction to his insinuation that his daily exercise routine consisted of more than just running to catch the lift at the Ministry and lifting large stacks of books and parchment. 

Oliver raised one eyebrow at him, reaching over to feel his arms with his rather large hands. Lightly squeezing his upper arms he made a noncommittal sound as he continued to do his self-assessment of his date's muscle mass. "Huh, turns out you are correct. I just thought you wore padded clothes." 

"Stop!" he lightly smacked Oliver on the shoulder with a halfhearted glare, their faces now close to one another. His eyes betrayed him as they glanced at Oliver's soft looking lips, imagining for a moment what it would be like to kiss him in the moonlight. Feeling his breath hitch at the thought, he quickly looked away trying to hide the fact that he was thinking about Oliver in a very non just two best mates sort of way. 

"I guess I will see you Wednesday," Oliver grinned cheekily at him, standing up from the steps so he could apparate home. "Don't forget my pamphlets. I am sure that you will have no problem carrying them now that I know you are diligently working on those bulging biceps."

Rolling his eyes, he wanted to be annoyed by Oliver's constant teasing. Were it anybody else he probably would have been, however with Oliver he never felt truly upset at being teased. Perhaps because he was always in on the jokes, and they were never cruel or meant to demean him in any way. "Are you really so hard up for reading material that you have resorted to official Ministry pamphlets?"

"Perhaps I just wanted to see you on Wednesday and the pamphlets were simply a convenient way to get you to agree to dinner with me," Oliver quipped, his grin instantly disappearing as he realized the honesty of his words. Panic setting into his facial features as he struggled to find a way to recover from his confession. 

"You could have just asked," he shrugged, trying not to panic himself. The last time he had a proper dinner with someone who wasn't a family member, or a potential family member was nine months ago. He hadn't even stayed for dessert, running away as fast as humanly possible when the first opportunity presented itself. "I probably would have said yes to having dinner with you."

Oliver's fingers briefly passed through his hair, suddenly looking quite nervous when compared to their easy banter a few seconds ago. Watching Oliver fidget anxiously while waiting the span only three or four breaths he couldn't help but notice the fluttering in his stomach as a thousand butterflies erupted. "Percy?"  

"Yeah?" he breathed out, suddenly struggling to remember how to breathe properly. 

"Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me on Wednesday night?" Oliver asked, holding out his hand and bowing dramatically. 

He should say no, he should do the responsible thing and keep their relationship strictly based on their prior agreement. Permadates and that is it. His heart had other ideas however, taking over control of his brain for the time being. Propelling him towards Oliver and those big brown eyes that he was constantly finding himself getting lost in. "I would love to have dinner with you," holding out his hand he allowed himself to be pulled into a standing position, finding himself once again wrapped in Oliver's arms. 

"It's a date then," Oliver's grin spread across his face making it physically impossible for him to do anything but practically melt into him. He would do just about anything to see that smile every single day. 

"Yes," he agreed, running his fingers through Oliver's soft hair trailing down until they were cupping either side of his face. Staring into his warm brown eyes his heart beat violently against his chest, so loudly there was no way that Oliver couldn't heart it or feel it. Both slowly leaning in until their warm breath ghosted the other's face. "I suppose that it is."

The sudden flood of light caused him to turn around only to be met with knowing grins from George and Angelina who had tired of yelling at the other family members and decided to officially call it a night. "Still here huh?" George asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I figured you two would have hurried off to do your snogging session."

"Don't let us stop you two," Angelina said warmly, her previous frigid attitude towards him softened after the dinner. He had a feeling it had a great deal to do with his willingness to at least try to stand up for Oliver. While he might not have done it perfectly it was the simple fact that he didn't cave under his mother's attempts to undermine his date's credibility that made her not as angry with him as before. 

"We were actually done for the evening," he said, the usual crispness back in his voice. Now that the spell had been broken he realized what a mistake snogging Oliver right now would be. Not that he didn't want to of course but tonight would not be the best time to have their first kiss, technically third kiss in total. Not entirely sure where he was in his current headspace he did know that it would be unfairly cruel to give Oliver any false hope that he was rethinking their current permadate deal. He was certainly in trouble, no doubt about that. Less than one week later and he was standing with his hands on this man's face while leaning in to snog him senseless. 

Thankfully Oliver seemed to be in agreement, something close to relief coming over his face. "See you Wednesday Perce."

Letting out a long held breath he relaxed just a little, the relief was good. Relief meant that Oliver wasn't going to go home heartbroken tonight because he didn't receive a kiss that he had been expecting. "See you Wednesday Ollie."

With a crack Oliver's warm smile was gone leaving him alone with his brother and his girlfriend who were leaned up against the Burrow with teasing grins on their faces. At least it wasn't Charlie, thank Merlin for that small miracle. He was already going to get enough crap from him about the dinner in general considering that the first part was spent staring into each other's eyes. The last thing he needed was for his older brother to find out about this newest development. "Well, I am going to go home I suppose."

"Home... right," George elbowed Angelina who giggled in response. 

"Have fun at home Perce," Angelina batted her eyelashes at him. Turning to George she lowered her voice though not enough that he still couldn't hear her. "Like we don't know what 'see you Wednesday' means."

Glaring at the two giggling idiots he felt his ears start to burn with embarrassment. "We are having dinner on Wednesday. That is what it means." 

"Sure it does," George winked at him.

Deciding the best course of action was to simply ignore them he nodded his head before disapparating to his empty waiting flat.

Standing in his living room he found himself sighing, normally he would crave the solace of his quiet and unassuming life. Stuck in a rut that he hadn't been fully aware of, every nerve in his body lying dormant until Oliver Wood entered his life bringing a wave crashing down upon him. His entire world split open at the seams rocking his cozy little world he had retreated into for the past few years. 

Chapter Text

"So break my step and relent. You forgave and I won't forget. Know what we've seen and him with less, now in some way shake the excess. But I will wait, I will wait for you. And I will wait, I will wait for you." Mumford & Sons- I Will Wait

While the Sunday dinner at the Burrow had not been perfect, he supposed it could have been worse. Not really sure how it could have been worse, but he was certain that if he dedicated a little bit of mental capacity to the issue he could come up with a reasonable answer. As it stood, he had not yet enjoyed his first cup of coffee so all non-essential mental exercises were on hold until he had a chance to sip his freshly made energy boost. 

The floo network alarm rang throughout the flat startling him out of his early morning reverie. An involuntary cringe scrunching up his nose, a load groan escaped his lips as he imagined an enraged Molly or Arthur Weasley stepping out of the fireplace to scream at him for his behavior yesterday. No doubt they would find him walking out on Sunday dinner appalling, despite the fact they were the ones who drove him to make such a decision. 

"Perce!" Penny called with a cough due to the soot trying to settle in her lungs. His shoulders instantly relaxing at the sound of her voice, just his best mate come to check in on him after his frantic letter to her last night. Hurriedly explaining how his family accosted Oliver on Saturday and the disastrous dinner last night where both he and his date were insulted without cause. He left out the specific details of what was said, mainly because he hadn't wanted to relive the viscous words which spewed from his mother's mouth. 

"In the kitchen!" he called out, his best mate could come to him he decided. The past few days earned him the right to sit at his kitchen table with his feet propped up on a chair, a cup of coffee gripped in his hands as the warmth spread through his body. 

Penny appeared in the doorway with an amused smirk on her face. "Bring the coffee to go my friend. You only live a half hours' walk from the Ministry and I am treating you to breakfast and coffee on the way."

"I never say no to breakfast," he replied, standing up to begin the process of transferring his coffee into a thermos and storing the remainder of the coffee in the fridge. "We will probably need the full half hour just for me to fill you in properly on my weekend."

Penny watched as he poured the leftover coffee in the pot into a container, never one to waste anything. Something she found incredibly hilarious and just a little bit weird the first few times she saw him perform the action, now it was just chalked up to another one of his odd quirks. "That bad huh?"

"You have no idea," a small smile settling on his lips he couldn't help but wonder what Oliver would think about him saving his unused coffee for a later date. He would probably chuckle in that warm way of his sending a shiver coursing through his body as he practically melted at the sound. Shaking his head from such intrusive thoughts he cleared his throat, trying to hide the light blush spreading down his neck. 

"Thinking about a certain broad shouldered Quidditch player who is oh so dreamy?" Penny giggled from her spot watching as her friend became even more flustered. 

Whipping around he glared at her, carefully setting the pot down on the counter so as not to accidentally shatter the glass and cause himself an even bigger mess. "No," he lied. "Why would I be thinking about that?"

"Your neck suggests otherwise," Penny said nonchalantly, he often forgot she was a Ravenclaw during their time at Hogwarts and annoyingly perceptive when it came to his varied moods. "It's not a bad thing. I would probably be thinking about him too if I were you."

"Let's go," he grabbed his thermos full of coffee off the counter, stopping at the chair nearest the kitchen doorway to pick up his briefcase. Robes hanging on a hook by the front door with his keys, more for the appearance of appearing muggle than anything, in a bowl on the entrance table. Everything essential to his daily life had a designated spot in his flat, neat and orderly exactly the way he always lived. The one thing in his life that had never fit into his almost mechanical rigidness for following set patterns was Oliver Wood. 

He had come into his world at a mere eleven years old, knocking him off course in the most wonderful of ways. Seven years spent being goaded into sneaking out at night and other such rule breaking activities. A wonderful summer spent at the Quidditch World Cup directly following graduation where he met Oliver nearly every night for what turned out to be some of the best experiences of his entire life, sneaking into parties where they pretended to belong amongst the famous Quidditch players and managers. Attempting to hide the fact he was hopelessly hungover the next day from his father and siblings, the only ones who caught on were Charlie and Bill. That was only because of a rather awkward situation where the three of them snuck out without the others' knowledge and met at one of the parties, a full hour of avoiding eye contact and pretending as if they saw nothing out of the ordinary. Until Oliver saw them and dragged them over for a round of shots, leading to a rather wild night and a side of his two older siblings he had never seen before.  

That was Oliver though, carefree and always willing to change plans for whatever option sounded like more fun in the moment. Being near him was like standing on the edge of a cliff as a storm rolls in from the sea, the sheer force of his loyalty and love enough to overwhelm you. At the same time enveloping you like a hug, keeping you safe and warm in his embrace. 

It was an odd mixture but one he found that over the years he had come to rely heavily upon. 

"I don't know why you're freaking out," he glanced over at a gaping Penny as he thanked the barista for his coffee and breakfast sandwich. His best mate currently seemed to be beyond words, taking her own coffee and scone with a polite nod at the barista but unable to properly form any coherent sentences. 

It wasn't until the two of them sat down at one of the bistro tables outside of the cafe that Penny seemed to find the correct words for the situation. "I don't understand how you're not freaking out," taking a small bite of her scone while giving him a bewildered look. "I mean it's a date. An honest to goodness date. With Oliver Wood of all people."

Outwardly he appeared as calm and casually cool Percy Weasley, the same persona he presented at the Ministry or when he was in the presence of his family. His overbearing and pushy family, the same ones he walked out on Sunday night. Knowing he didn't really have the willpower to deny his mother for long when she started pushing back on his declaration that he would not be returning without an apology. While he and his mother had their issues and at times, he wished she would simply accept him for who he was- accept what he wanted from his life. He also knew the years he spent estranged from his family were not something he ever cared to repeat. Oliver had cautioned him not to stay away too long, but he was planning on holding out for at least a few days in case an apology came his way. 

"I'm cautiously optimistic," he admitted, taking a sip of his coffee which was a little sweeter than he tended to normally take his coffee. The cafe had a new menu item, and he was feeling a little daring today. Further proof that routine was the only acceptable way to live his life, best stick with what he knows best. 

The only place that wasn't going to work out so well with him would be his love life. Were he to stick to routine he would run away the moment Oliver expressed any genuine interest in him. The second any emotions came into the equation he would retreat. 

He didn't necessarily want to retreat from Oliver, not quite yet. 

"That is Percy Weasley speak for 'I'm scared to death at the moment, but I have too much pride to admit I'm feeling vulnerable'," Penny gave him a very clinical look which made him feel as though he was sitting in front of a therapist rather than his best mate. 

"Well," he admitted with a wince at the accuracy of her observation. "You do know me best."

Penny leaned back in her chair, a smug expression on her face. "I knew it! I mean I don't blame you. The two of you have a history with each other so I could see how you would be a little on edge going into this date. Promise me one thing?" Penny waited for him to give her his full attention. "Please don't self-sabotage and try not to destroy Oliver's heart in the process, ok? I really do like the man, what I remember of him from school. What is he like now, by the way?"

What to say about Oliver? To try and describe him without sounding like some love-struck teenager or some Quidditch crazed fan. "He is- kind of short, by Weasley standards at least. Brown hair, brown eyes, still has broad shoulders and a broad chest, and overall, in very good shape. Quidditch training with Puddlemere United has been good to him."

Penny sighed, shaking her head at him over her coffee mug. "That's- that's a very clinical description of his outward appearance, Percy." 

"He has a cat named Niffler and enjoys cooking," he replied smugly, proud of himself for knowing at least a few facts about Oliver which weren't dependent on who he was during their Hogwarts' years. 

Penny, however, did not look impressed with the two facts he offered up. "Those are both things I could have figured out from an article in Witch Weekly. What are you going to tell me next? His favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Witch Weekly got that wrong actually," he grinned to himself, remembering Hogsmeade weekends where the two of them would stroll down the crowded streets while enjoying each other's company and a customary cone of ice cream. "They had it as brownie, but it is actually chocolate brownie."

Penny's eyebrows practically raised into her hairline, choosing not to comment on the fact that not only had he read the article but was sitting in front of her grinning like a fool at some ice cream related memory. "Good to know. So, what is his personality like after all these years?"

"Much the same," he shrugged, not a lie. Oliver was the kind of person who didn't really change who he was over the years. At the core he was always the same, steadfast and a true Gryffindor. "Kind, sweet, funny, polite and courteous to my family, intelligent, and quite forgiving as it turns out."

"He sounds perfect for you," Penny commented, trying to sound casual. "You deserve someone who isn't going to hold a mistake against you. Bringing it up anytime they want to guilt you into something or because they don't agree with a decision you are making."

There was nothing he could really say in return. He hadn't missed Penny's reference to his parents, who said they forgave him for his mistake of trusting the Ministry but then brought it up at every opportunity. Oliver was perfect- so unbelievably perfect. Perhaps, even perfect for him. Certainly, more right for him than any of the men he had ever dated in the past. The word "date" being used rather loosely. Most of his "dates" would not fall under the technical definition of a true date. 

What he didn't know- the thing currently giving him pause and had him rethinking his decision to agree to a date with the man was whether or not he would be perfect for Oliver. Could his former best mate handle how broken he was? Would he want to take all of that emotional baggage on?

Walking into the Department of Magical Transportation he knew he and Oliver, and unfortunately the article, would be hot topics. After years of trying to stay out of the gossip mill at the Ministry he had unwittingly been thrust into its heart, hopefully all of the impending rumors would be focused around how cute he and Oliver were together. Something that was apparently a common opinion amongst his co-workers from what he heard on Friday night. What he wasn't necessarily prepared for was the onslaught of people who accosted him as soon as he crossed the threshold. It seemed as if most people in his office found the article in The Prophet absolutely appalling, a huge violation of both their privacies and something completely out of line, even by Rita Skeeter standards. 

Sentiments he whole heartedly agreed with considering the fallout that came from the article. Not that he could necessarily explain the full impact to his co-workers. He decided that if they knew he brought Oliver to the Ministry function before telling his family he was in fact gay might not reflect well on him. Never mind the fact he hadn't told his mum and dad because he was terrified of their reactions, while not quite as bad as he initially feared they hadn't exactly embraced him either. Certainly, hadn't accepted Oliver into the family as easily as they accepted Harry or Mona. 

A large group of people were still gathered around his cubicle when his head of department walked in to begin his day. "Weasley!" Mr. Quinn boomed at him as he approached, watching the group of people part to allow him easier access to his intended target. He did find it odd that Mr. Quinn greeted him as though they were long lost best mates instead of two people who had barely spoken to each other regarding none work related issues prior to Friday night. "Come into my office with me. I wanted to have a quick word before you get too busy."

"Y- yes sir," he stammered out, suddenly extremely concerned that perhaps he was in trouble for something either he had or had not done. Everyone stared wide-eyed at him as he slowly rose from his desk chair, shakily following Mr. Quinn who turned on his heal to begin making his way to his corner office on the other side of the department. Paying close attention to his expressions and other non-verbal body language cues to determine what this meeting could entail.

From what he could tell the man seemed at ease for the most part, greeting various people along the way, no real tension in his shoulders, voice not sounding unusually loud. There was a chance this was just a friendly chat, along the same lines as his other co-workers. Simply offering his private sympathies for the article and the fact that the party on Friday night was not as private as originally intended. It was also possible his head of department had seen the article and thought it was some publicity stunt by Oliver or himself. The implications of such an assumption would be disastrous to not only his career but potentially Oliver's as well. Having already put the poor man through having the Weasleys accost him on Saturday morning and the disastrous dinner yesterday evening the last thing he needed was for Oliver to be questioned by the Ministry. 

The click of Mr. Quinn's door shutting was enough to make his knees tremble, his head spinning slightly as though he might just fall in a heap on the floor at a moment's notice. 

Breathe, he thought. In and out. Focus on what you can see and touch. Everything is going to be fine. Just a friendly chat with your boss. 

"Sit down Weasley," Mr. Quinn gestured to an empty chair. A tight look on his bosses' face which did nothing to ease his anxiety regarding the situation. "Would you like any tea or coffee before we begin?"

"No thank you sir," he politely declined the offer, too nervous to eat or drink anything at the moment. Still focusing on his breathing while keeping his face neutral. Best not to appear as though he had something to hide, whatever that something might end up being. "I had some coffee and breakfast with a friend on the way into work today."

Why would he offer that information to his boss? Several years of having almost no one in his office knowing next to nothing about his personal life and in the span of just a few days suddenly his personal life was taking center stage. The main topic of conversations which were most likely being had by his co-workers even when he wasn't in their presence. 

Mr. Quinn didn't seem bothered by his statement, thankfully. Giving him an attempt at his usual good-natured smile, an undertone of tension in the lines of his face, as he nodded his head. At least pretending he found the small detail about his morning interesting. "Ah, wonderful. Glad to see the Daily Prophet article by Rita Skeeter this weekend hasn't upset your world beyond repair."

So, this meeting is about the article. Allowing himself to relax a little, hoping his action wasn't prematurely optimistic. "Yes sir. World is still whole and spinning in the correct direction."

That got a warm chuckle out of the man sitting across from him, something he was hopeful was a good thing. Leaning forward slightly in his chair with his hands folded on top of the desk, Mr. Quinn regarded him with a serious expression. "You're funny Weasley. Don't know why I hadn't realized that before. I wanted to have this little chat to let you know the article was a violation of the privacy the Ministry assured our employees and their dates they would be provided. I am working with the Minister of Magic's office to find out how the pictures were taken in the first place and how they landed in the hands of Rita Skeeter along with intimate details regarding your relationship with Mr. Wood. I want to assure you we are taking this breach of security extremely seriously and we will be investigating it to the fullest extent possible. You will be receiving a written apology along with this verbal one."

"Thank you, sir," he said sincerely, truly touched that his boss was taking the breach of security seriously. He wondered how the pictures were taken without anyone's knowledge and was curious to get to the bottom of it. This also put him in a rather precarious position, he certainly had his suspicions about who the information at least came from. However, that would mean he would be ratting out a co-worker if he divulged his suspicions. Giving Blair's name as a potential suspect would possibly get her in trouble; something which would not bode well for him in the long-term, especially if it turned out Blair did not have anything to do with the article. Unlikely, but possible.

Mr. Quinn cleared his throat, looking extremely uncomfortable and on-edge. His tell-tale tick of pulling at his collar making an appearance along with the beads of sweat starting to form on his brow. "I hope Mr. Wood knows how sorry the Ministry is about this unfortunate incident. We will of course be issuing a formal apology to him as well as well as to the managers at Puddlemere United. I sincerely hope his impression of the Ministry in general is not tainted in any way."

Ah, the real reason for such a private conversation. Trying to find out how much damage control would be required. 

"I won't lie and say the article wasn't quite the shock sir," he began, noting the lines of tension that formed on his head of department's face. "However, Oliver is a very sweet and understanding individual. I am sure an apology will be all that is needed to smooth the situation over completely. I saw him both Saturday and Sunday, on Sunday there was no mention of the article, and he was his normal happy self."

While he hated speaking on behalf of Oliver, he was relieved to see the tension release from his bosses' shoulders as his smile became more natural. "Excellent to hear! We will of course waste no time with a formal apology for the breach of privacy. I know my wife and I certainly enjoyed his presence at the function on Friday, something that was a rather popular opinion. The two of you were quite the hit, a side of you we had not yet been treated to."

"Oliver is a lovely person," allowing the involuntary smile he felt coming on at the mere mention of Oliver's name to lift the corners of his lips. He was eager to have another proper function where Oliver's presence would be needed, perhaps have another opportunity to waltz with him again. An excuse to be just a bit more intimate with the man. 

"I agree," Mr. Quinn gave him a knowing look, far more relaxed now than at the beginning of their conversation. "You are well liked as well Weasley. Quiet, no-nonsense. I never have to worry about the quality or consistency of your reports, and you are always willing to help another co-worker. Your impeccable work ethic has been noticed and is greatly appreciated." 

Breathe in, hold. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. This is it; you can do this. This is what years of hard work have led to. "Thank you, sir," he tried his best not to let his voice have an odd choked sound, best not to count his dragons before they hatch. 

"You now know I am retiring, not that it was much of a surprise announcement," letting out another warm chuckle. Most of the people in the Department of Transportation knew the reason for the function. Many hoping to throw their names in for consideration as the next Minister of Transportation. "I admire that you haven't spent weeks trying to chat me up and get on my good side Weasley. Have you ever considered the option of advancing your career further?"

All of the breath left his body at once, feeling as though he was having an almost out of body experience. Like he was watching the conversation in the room from above, noting every single detail in case he would need to recall them at a later date. "I-" he faltered. Carefully considering his wording, not wanting to sound too eager or play it too cool. This was a critical point in the conversation. "I have considered advancing my career. If an opportunity came along which aligned with my overall goals and was a good fit for both me and the Ministry as a whole."

Taking a small moment to delight in his answer as he waited for Mr. Quinn's reply. He thought he did quite well, not mentioning anything specific and noting he wasn't necessarily going to jump on the first opportunity that came along. He would carefully consider it and take not only his needs into account but the needs of others as well. Ensuring his attempt at climbing the career ladder would benefit the Ministry as a whole, aligning his own goals with those of the Ministry.  

"I am happy to hear it Weasley. Perhaps you could see my secretary at the end of the day. She will have a packet ready for you, complete with additional information regarding the role of Minster of Transportation and the requirements to apply for the position. I hope to see your name amongst the other candidates. We could use more employees like you."

The first thing he wanted to do was call Oliver and spend hours gushing about how wonderful this all was. The plan worked, bring a date to the Ministry function and impress his bosses. It was all because of how spectacular Oliver had been, how he really took the role on and gave him the confidence to just be himself in front of his co-workers. The second thing he wanted to do was skip down the hallways singing at the top of his lungs in pure bliss. 

He would call Oliver on his lunch break to get the first thing out of the way and the second one would only happen in his mind. Doing that in real life would have people thinking he had gone completely mental. He had done it. Gotten past the first hurdle which was to get his current boss to notice him enough that he had an actual shot at kickstarting his career into overdrive. "Thank you, sir," not able to help the grin spreading across his face at such wonderful news. "I will be sure to see your secretary at the end of the day."

"Glad to hear it Weasley," Mr. Quinn beamed at him, shuffling some pieces of parchment around on his desk. "Well, I will let you get back to your day."

Wishing his boss a good day as well he fumbled with the doorknob to the office, stepping out into the main area of the department. Hardly able to believe his own good luck that one Ministry function could truly be the turning point he needed to achieve the goals he set for himself. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. What he wasn't prepared for was the complete lack of concentration. Manageable until his early afternoon budgetary meeting where he simply could not keep his mind on the new program to help with promoting proper techniques when apparating/disapparating for younger witches and wizards; the number of splinching incidents was on the rise again as summer approached and the newest batch of seventeen year olds were gaining their licenses. The scratching of the quills on parchment as people diligently took notes was deafening to his ears as his thoughts wandered to things that had nothing to do with work. 

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Why would Oliver even like me? What could I have possibly done to earn his forgiveness? Certainly, wasn't because I went out of my way to make amends to him. If I were him, I would have slapped me across the face when I showed up uninvited on his doorstep. Perhaps I have been too selfish this past week. I should really plan or do something that shows how much I truly appreciate his willingness to go along with this whole permanent date thing. 

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

What was that moment at the end of last night? One of our rules of being each other's permanent dates was nothing too romantic, including kissing. Yet, there we were. Standing with our faces close together and I was seriously considering the possibility of kissing him. He seemed to have similar thoughts. Probably for the best that we didn't kiss. Keep things simple, no sense in complicating things which are really quite straightforward. 

The man is handsome though. A good kisser from what I remember. Soft lips that know what they are doing, just the right amount of tenderness. Definitely handsome, he thought, remembering the way his mind fractured last night every time he glanced at the man. Especially when he is on that broom and the sun is behind him illuminating his face. That strong jaw and those high cheekbones, classically good looking. Gorgeous eyes, with flecks of gold that shimmer and light up when he grins. I do like his hair as well, a darker brown with a slight curl to it that has just the right amount of bounce.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

What to do about Wednesday night though? I can't cancel, can't even consider cancelling the date. There is no way that my heart could handle the possibility that I upset him in any way. Suppose there is nothing to do but go on the date and just see where it goes. Surely, he will understand about the need to take things slow. I will just have to have an honest conversation with him and let him know that I can't rush into things. It is simply against my nature. 

I can't stay away from him though. That much I am sure of. 

Frowning down at his nearly blank piece of parchment he couldn't recall a single discernable detail about the meeting. Now, had the meeting been about Oliver Wood then perhaps his parchment would be filled to the brim. The entire thing left him feeling underprepared to perform his job well and overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the number of thoughts this man seemed to consume. 

There was only one solution he could think of. 

He called Oliver on his new cell phone while running to the café near the Ministry for a late lunch. As he listened to the ringing on the other end, he realized Oliver was probably in the middle of practice and wouldn't be able to answer right away, hopefully he could leave some sort of message on the device. The two of them hadn't covered texting quite yet, he didn't want to have to find someone in his department who understood muggle technology to help him. If he thought his co-workers were bad now when they found out he couldn't wait another possible second for the opportunity to talk to his date in the middle of the day, he would never hear the end of it. 

The ringing ended and a voice that sounded eerily similar to the one he heard when he used the phone outside the Ministry told him to leave a message after the beep. They hadn't covered this part either, but he figured he probably just started talking once he heard the beep sound. "Hello. This is Percy Weasley, and I am calling for Oliver Wood. Please ensure he gets this message; I would like to tell him that the head of my department had a meeting with me this morning letting me know that I was well received at the party. He invited me to officially apply for the position of Minister of Transportation. If he would like to discuss the news further let him know he can call me after work. My number is stored in his cell phone. Thank you and have a lovely day."

Hanging up the phone he figured the voice in the phone worked similarly to the one at the guest entrance to the Ministry and would be able to relay his message to Oliver. He also realized that perhaps he should figure out the number for his cell phone should he ever need to give it to someone. Making a mental note to add that to the things he needed to cover with Oliver on Wednesday night. 

Now all he had to do was find a way to make it through the rest of his day. 

"You ready Perce?" Charlie's voice snapped his head up from the report he was diligently making edits to. 

Speckles of ink dotted his fingertips from where he had been furiously scribbling when inspiration finally struck towards the end of the day; before that he spent the good portion of an hour bouncing the quill from knuckle to knuckle while attempting to allow the words to form in his head. Now that he was officially invited to apply for the position of head of his department this report had to be perfect, better than perfect. Flawless, spectacular, a stroke of pure genius. This report and all others to follow were going to be under intense scrutiny and he refused to crumble under the pressure. 

"Yes," he replied, wiping off his now black spotted fingertips with a towel he kept near his desk for such things. Starting to clear off the top of his workspace as he did each day, filing away the paperwork and organizing the unfinished reports so they lay on top of his neat stacks in the drawer. Ready for him tomorrow, nothing was ever missed due to this organizational system he implemented for himself at eighteen. 

"Talk to Oliver today?" Charlie feigned innocence at his question, leaning against the cubicle wall with an infuriating smirk on his smug face. 

Slamming shut the desk drawer a little harder than he meant to causing several heads to turn and look at the two of them. "No. I was at work all day and so was Oliver. We have no need to speak to each other at all hours of the day." 

He decided it was best not to mention his earlier call to Oliver to deliver his big news or the fact that he used the cell phone Oliver gave him. On his to-do list was to look up the cost of such a device so he could reimburse Oliver if needed. 

Charlie held up his hands in surrender, placating his younger brother who could be a little defensive when it came to his personal life. "No need to get shirty with me. Just a simple question."

Picking up the folder which contained the precious information regarding the position for head of his department, carefully slipping it into his briefcase as though it was made a glass and would shatter at any second. Checking a number of times to ensure it had not magically disappeared from his bag. A nod to Charlie to let him know he was now ready to leave for their dinner date. Keeping the conversation solely focused on Charlie and his newest round of meetings which were going well. According to Charlie, while Luna Lovegood might be a rather odd woman, she was absolutely fantastic at moving legislation regarding the protection of magical creatures through the red tape of the Ministry. The details of his day lasting until they were well outside the Ministry and on their way to the spot he had chosen for dinner. 

Hearing his phone ringing in his pocket he pulled it out, signaling with his finger to Charlie that he needed one minute to answer this important phone call. Oliver's name popped up on his screen as he tapped the green phone button just as he had been shown only to be met with howling bursts of laughter before he could even get out the customary 'hello' he had been practicing.

"What is so funny Oliver?" he snapped, earning him an amused side glance from Charlie whose smirk made him want to reach over and pop him across the mouth one good time. Give him a split lip to go along with the in-the-process-of-healing burn on his arm he had worked very hard last night to hide from their worried mum. 

"Y-Y-You," Oliver finally wheezed out, had he been standing in front of him he was fairly sure the man would be doubled over in laughter at the moment. Having stopped in the middle of the sidewalk he ignored the grumbling of people who were pushing past him and Charlie as they hurried home from their workday.

"I fail to see how I am this funny. I haven't done anything."

"Y-You left me the most a-adorably awkward v-voicemail I have ever received," Oliver explained, his breathing through the phone sounding labored as he struggled to gain control of his fits of laughter. 

"I simply left a message with the person who controls your phone," he huffed, thoroughly annoyed at being described as awkward. The adorable part he didn't mind so much. "Did I not leave sufficient instructions to ensure you received the message?"

There was silence for several long seconds as Oliver seemed to be thinking of a response to his question, his first response was to lapse back into hysterics over the situation. "Th-there is no person in the phone Percy. I will go over voicemails with you on Wednesday. Basically, they are like a text message, except instead of writing it you speak. Like a howler of sorts, without the screaming."

"Oh," he breathed out, thankful Oliver wasn't standing here to see his face turn an unsightly shade of crimson at his embarrassment. He thought he had done so well with using the phone only to find out he made himself look like an idiot. Had it been one of his siblings everyone they knew would know of his slip-up, he had to force his mind not to spiral out of control. Otherwise, he would become paranoid that Oliver had told everyone on his Quidditch team and his other mates what an idiot his fake date was, couldn't even leave a voicemail properly. 

"It's my fault," Oliver said kindly, taking some deep breaths to get rid of his hiccups from laughing so hard. "I never explained it to you. Proud of you for at least figuring out how to leave one, even it is still the most adorable thing I have ever heard in my life. I would love to discuss your big news further."

That was certainly better. Adorable was good, adorable meant that whatever teasing might come later wouldn't be malicious. He could practically hear the smile in Oliver's voice, calling a mental image of which one he might be displaying right now. If he had to guess he would probably say the teasing grin that made his nose crinkle ever so slightly. The very thought of it brought a small smile to his face as a blush crept across his cheeks. "Well, it all started this morning when Mr. Quinn pulled me into his office..." starting to walk again so as to avoid people becoming further annoyed at having to dodge two men just standing idly in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, he continued to make his way to the pub with Charlie, who was absolutely insufferable. 

Reaching out his free arm he smacked his older brother on the shoulder which did nothing to deter him from making kissing faces at him and batting his eyelashes. He was forever thankful that this phone only allowed Oliver to hear his voice and not be able to see Charlie's antics which were becoming more and more frustrating. 

"That's absolutely fantastic, Perce!" Oliver sounded sincerely happy for him which only increased the fluttering in his heart. "I knew you made a good impression on your bosses Friday night; they would be bloody idiots not to give you the job. Do you still have time for me now that you are going to be a big shot head of department at the Ministry?"

"I will always have time for you, Ollie," he rolled his eyes at the mere thought he would throw away Oliver's friendship, he would never be quite that stupid ever again. Registering the fact he used Oliver's nickname a second too late, Charlie was having an absolute field day with this. Giving up even trying to control his brother who was simply a lost cause at this point he focused his full attention on his conversation with Oliver. "Besides, nothing official yet. Just an invitation to apply for the job. I know they will require a project to be completed as part of the application process so I will run a couple of ideas by you on Wednesday night along with my outline for my meeting with Mr. Crawford on Friday afternoon."

After years of having his career become stagnant it felt good to be doing something. Even if he wasn't chosen as head of the department at least he was getting his name out there again, slowly returning to the old Percy Weasley who went into the Ministry with a head full of ideas and big dreams. Ready to do whatever it took to make those goals a reality. While now he wasn't quite so power hungry, certainly not as naïve and ready to blindly follow authority figures, he was ready to chase after something again. 

He was ready to start having a life again. 

"I am really looking forward to seeing you Wednesday night," he risked being just a little forward with Oliver, once again ignoring Charlie whose face lit up at his words. "Remember, this is my treat, so I buy the rounds of beer."

"I am really looking forward to seeing you as well," Oliver said quietly, pausing for a deep breath before continuing. "I kind of miss you actually. Probably because we have seen so much of each other this past week or so, feels kind of weird to go a few days without seeing your face."

Not knowing what to say to that confession his ears responded by shining bright red, the blush creeping down his face as he willed it to stop. This would not help the situation with Charlie thinking the two of them were destined to fall in love with each other. "I kind of miss you too," he mumbled into the phone, trying to keep his voice as low as possible to avoid Charlie overhearing his private conversation. "Sorry about seeing so much of me, especially this weekend. That wasn't the original plan."

The look on Charlie's face told him he was not going to get out of this one easily. Leaning on his shoulder with one arm his older brother had that infuriating grin on his face. "Tell Oliver I miss him as well!" Charlie said in a loud enough voice he knew Oliver heard him based on the sharp intake of breath and the resounding silence which followed on the other end of the line. 

"Charlie says hello," he supplied lamely, more to appease his older brother than anything. Hoping Charlie's presence hadn't offended Oliver in some way, he really needed to find a book on the rules of phone etiquette. Perhaps he should have announced Charlie's presence at the beginning of the call. 

"Oh-" Oliver faltered, he could practically hear the panic in realizing the person on the other end of the phone wasn't alone. "I didn't realize Charlie was with you. Tell him hello for me."

Shoving a grinning Charlie away from him with a glare. "Oliver says hello," he said distractedly to Charlie before turning his attention back to his pleasant conversation. "I am about to go to dinner with my idiot brother so why don't we talk another time, we can discuss my ideas for the project and catch up properly."

He wasn't really sure how much catching up the two of them would have to do considering they hadn't spent much time apart since he showed up on the man's doorstep unannounced. It just seemed like the correct thing to say in this situation, that and he wanted to have another conversation which lasted several hours. Listening to the soothing sound of Oliver's voice as he told him stories that made him laugh so hard he ended up with tears rolling down his face. 

The second reason he was keeping to himself for now. 

"I would love that!" Oliver's voice was back to normal now, once again practically hearing the smile behind his words. "I have a late meeting on Tuesdays with management so how does about half past seven sound to you? I will call you since it is possible the meeting could run a few minutes late. I will be definitely free by 8pm though."

Working extremely hard to keep a giant grin from spreading across his face, which would only increase the amount of ribbing he was receiving from Charlie, he kept his voice as even and calm as possible. "That works for me."

"Allright, goodbye Perce. I will let you hang up the phone this time since I know how badly you want to practice your new skills."

"Such a gentleman," he quipped, rolling his eyes at Oliver's snicker. "Goodbye Oliver."

Pressing the red phone button to end the call, he waited for Charlie to start in on him. He only had to wait half a second or so before he felt Charlie's arm around his neck, his other hand reaching up to ruffle his hair. "What are these big plans you and Ollie have Wednesday night?"

"I am taking him to a pub for some beers," he said simply, ignoring Charlie's antics. "It is my way of saying sorry for having to put up with my parents and the rest of my family on both Saturday and Sunday."  

Charlie did not look convinced, keeping his arm around him he gently shook him from side to side. Something that made it incredibly difficult to walk in a semi-straight line. "So, you are taking Oliver on a date now? That is certainly not in the permadate agreement."

"It's not a date!" he exclaimed, going into full denial mode to escape Charlie's claws as they dug further into him. Trying to get him to admit something he wasn't even ready to fully admit to himself. 

"Sure it's not," Charlie replied, giving him an almost pitying look, which only served to raise his blood pressure even more. Thankfully he was saved from having to finish the conversation as they approached the restaurant, scanning the menu posted outside to ensure his favorite pasta dish was still on the menu. Taking their seats at one of the patio tables they fell into easy conversation as he filled in Charlie on his meeting with Mr. Quinn this morning as well as his meeting later on in the week to discuss broomstick regulations with Mr. Crawford. Allowing himself to open up fully about his goals to one day become Minister of Magic and all of the ideas he had surrounding what he could accomplish as Minister of Transportation. It was-nice. Not usually one to discuss his goals and dreams with his family members to have the ability to let at least one of them in on his plans for the future felt an awful lot like progress. 

After their delicious meal he noticed Charlie was beginning to squirm in his seat, glancing about nervously and refusing to meet his eye. "So-" Charlie began tentatively, just barely dipping his toes in to test his younger brother's mood on the change of subject. "I have some official Weasley business."

"Do you now?" he said tersely, enraged that his mother would stoop so low as to send one of her older sons to do her bidding. 

"Yes, on behalf of dad so you can unclench," Charlie sighed, rubbing his temples. "He is talking to mum tonight about her behavior and he would like for you to bring Oliver to Teddy's third birthday party this Saturday. He wants to get to know Oliver better and apologize in person for the disaster that was Sunday dinner."

He thought for a long moment, picking at the side of his thumbs as he always did when he was nervous and contemplating a big decision. "Dad couldn't tell me this himself?"

"He is," Charlie promised, shoulders relaxing slightly now that they had gotten past this first landmine. "He just wanted you to know that a visit was coming so you would be less likely to engage in a shouting match with him."

"I will do my best," he took a sip of his lemonade, wishing he had thought to ask for a bit of vodka to be added to the drink. He could still do that, flag down the waiter and have them add half a bottle or so. "No promises though."

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie's lips, tapping his fingers anxiously on the table. "One more thing. Apparently, Harry is also going to pay you a visit sometime this week."

"Harry?" 

"Yeah, heard him talking to Ginny and Angelina about it after the two of you left last night," Charlie explained, carefully watching his face for any sign he was about to get very upset with the messenger. "Something about preventing another experience like the one they had with Timothy," Charlie looked at him expectantly, as if he should know who Timothy is. Perhaps he should know. Why hadn't Oliver ever mentioned this ex that apparently everyone seemed to hate with a passion? What had Timothy done that was so horrible to begin with? With horror he wondered if perhaps this wasn't the first time Oliver had agreed to fake date someone. 

Certainly, would explain why Fred, George, and Harry were worried about having a repeat performance. Their supposed relationship had come out of nowhere. Everyone believed they weren't on speaking terms until their picture appeared in the Daily Prophet with news they had been dating for three months in secret. He could see how that would be cause for concern amongst Oliver's friends.    

"Great," he groaned, feeling quite sorry for himself all of a sudden. This was just what he needed this week. An unwanted visit from his father and Harry sticking his nose into things. One single poke could bring this entire plan crashing down around him, one innocent question he should know the answer to but didn't, would expose that he knew next to nothing about the man he was supposedly dating. Vowing to use their phone call tomorrow night and potentially some of Wednesday to ask some personal questions of Oliver.

Having realized he knew surprisingly little about his life outside of Quidditch he supposed he should get to know him a bit more. According to Penny and several of his co-workers that was half the fun of dating someone new, all of the little bits and pieces of their life that all come together to paint the picture of the person they are. Either that picture stays the same as time goes on or they realize all it had been all along was simply a pretty picture. The reality something much harsher and cruel. 

He supposed he was about to find out if getting to truly know someone was half as much fun as it had been made out to be. 

Tuesday night he got his promised visit from Harry, who tried to play it off as though he was just dropping by for an unexpected cup of tea. He had known the boy since he was eleven years old and not once had he ever just popped by for a visit when not accompanied by Ginny or Ron. It didn't take a genius to figure out why he was suddenly sitting on his couch while sipping a cup of freshly brewed tea- Oliver.

"So," Harry began distractedly, glancing around his flat as though he had never been there before. Perhaps looking for evidence of his relationship with Oliver that had been previously missed. A picture tucked away, a Puddlemere sock on the floor, or perhaps books on Quidditch theory which looked out of place. Anything that would prove they were actually together, ensure this wasn't some sort of stunt the two of them cooked up one evening. 

Suddenly very nervous of Harry's critical gaze he had to focus on keeping his breathing steady and not appearing too fidgety. As though this situation was the most natural occurrence in the world. Just two mates, sitting on a couch and having a nice cup of tea. Come to think of it perhaps he should add a little bit of Oliver into his flat, just to give some credibility to their story of having been dating for three months. "So-"

"You and Oliver huh?" Harry took a sip of tea, leveling him with a gaze which made him see how this normally soft-spoken and kindhearted boy managed to defeat a powerful wizard as well as make it through the rigorous training to become an auror. 

"Yes," he said simply, utilizing the restraint he learned while working for death eater infested Ministry. Show no fear, face neutral, short answers only, and never ever let any emotion show.

Harry's eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips tugging down in a frown. "You don't sound like someone who is excited to be in a relationship with one of my best mates. A relationship that had to be kept some big secret because you had not come out to your family."

"When have you ever known me to display much emotion?" feeling himself relax a little. Harry wasn't here to necessarily question the validity of his relationship with Oliver just to perform what he could only assume was some sort of brotherly like check. Ensuring he was good enough for his friend, something he was sure Oliver would eventually endure from his own brothers. 

"You did Sunday night," Harry shrewdly pointed out, his voice clipped and biting in a way he had never really heard from his sister's fiancé. "Or was that just some sort of act you put on for the Weasleys?"

Perhaps he had overplayed his hand regarding playing it cool, now the kid probably thought he was toying with Oliver's heart. Only dating him for the money or because he was a celebrity. Something as far from the truth as possible. "You have to admit you just showing up unexpectedly to my flat is unusual. It would stand to reason that I might be a little bit nervous at the moment."

"I suppose," Harry agreed, making a concerted effort to soften his face even though the hard look in his eyes remained. "What are your intentions?"

"My- my intentions?"

Harry nodded his head, not bothering to elaborate on his question. "Yes, I want to know your intentions with Oliver."

"To- to date him?"

"I already figured that one out," Harry grumbled, setting his teacup on the coffee table. "I am going to blunt with you Percy. Are you planning on cheating on Oliver or in any way using his position as a famous Quidditch player for your own goals at the Ministry?"

Now that was a hard question to answer. Technically, if he did go home with a man, it would not be cheating on Oliver, since part of their agreement as permadates was they could go and date someone else. Not that he could say anything to Harry, one it would give everything away and he didn't seem like the kind of person who would believe Oliver was in an open relationship. The using him part was sort of true, more of a they were using each other. Mutually beneficial arrangement, even if lately it had been leaning more towards only beneficial towards him. He wasn't completely selfish; he had ordered some flowers and chocolates for Oliver today and they should be delivered in time for their phone call tonight. A small thank you for being so wonderful over the past few days and an apology for his family's behavior. "Nope. No such plans."

"Are you romantic with him?" Harry continued on with his line of questioning, his green eyes never leaving his face. 

"That is a very personal question," he stiffened before remembering he would have similar expectations of any of his brothers. Certainly, would not want to hear of them in any way being rude or taking advantage of their significant others. "He should have flowers and chocolates waiting on him when he gets home tonight from his meeting with the managers at Puddlemere United."

Expecting Harry to soften a bit the news did nothing but cause him to bristle further. "Sounds like an apology to me. Flowers and chocolate on a random day are usually because you have done something which requires someone's forgiveness."

Sighing in frustration, he looked up at the ceiling. There was no pleasing this kid. Suddenly understanding how Harry must have felt during his own chats with Ginny's older brothers. Not a pleasant experience nor one he ever cared to repeat. "More of an apology for my family. Especially the way my mother treated him this weekend."

That seemed to get the desired effect from Harry, his shoulders relaxing back down as he leaned casually against the couch. "Glad to see you can recognize when your mum is in the wrong. I would like to see a little bit more teeth from you next time your mum lays into him like that," he didn't bother to mention the fact that Harry hadn't exactly put Molly Weasley in her place Sunday night either. "You know, Oliver is the one who first suggested I quit my position as an auror and take up the post at Hogwarts as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Yes," thankful Ginny had mentioned that little fact one afternoon while he was helping with some wedding preparations. Not that it surprised him Oliver would do such a thing or that Harry would listen to him of all people. "I heard.' 

Harry nodded, settling into the couch cushion. Apparently, he was about to get the full story yet again. "It was eight months ago," Harry began, ignoring the fact he was anxiously looking at his watch. Half past six, which left him one hour before he really needed to be available for his phone call with Oliver. Having been anxiously looking forward to it all day he didn't want anything to stand in the way, overprotective friends included. If needed he would throw Harry out on his arse to avoid missing the phone call. "We had lunch together and he commented on how miserable and exhausted I looked. Of course, at first, I denied it completely but after a month or so I finally did admit I was fairly miserable. Not that I don't enjoy being an auror, but I was starting to find it unfulfilling. No real desire to be head auror or rise through the ranks of the Ministry, just kind of spinning my wheels as they say. When I said as much to Oliver, he was the one who suggested doing something else entirely with my life. Not surprisingly he mentioned Quidditch as an option, offered to pull some strings to get me a starting position with a good team in the league or a national team if I so desired. Also brought up the idea of teaching at Hogwarts as an option since I enjoyed giving everyone defense lessons so much during my fifth year. Came up with a million reasons why I had no option but to continue with my post as an auror, eventually being appointed to head auror and spending my life utterly miserable at my job. Oliver didn't see it that way, asked me 'when I was going to stop being the boy who lived and the savior of the Wizarding world and just start being Harry Potter?' I didn't really take to kindly to being called out like that, spent a week not speaking to him and storming around my flat at the audacity. Until Ginny got involved and asked me 'when I was going to quit being a spoiled brat and realize Oliver was right?' She assured me that whatever I wanted to do with my life was fine, she would support me and we would figure it out. What I had to stop doing was accepting that I was just destined to be miserable my entire life and had no say in how anything turned out. Oliver helped me draft a letter to Headmistress McGonagall along with sending in letters of recommendation. Well, one thing led to another and here I am. One mere month away from ending my time as an auror and ready to start teaching DADA at Hogwarts in September."

"I'm just surprised he wasn't pushing for you to be the flying instructor at Hogwarts."

Harry grinned at him for the first time since stepping foot in his flat earlier in the evening. "He told me he would throw a tantrum the likes of which I have never seen if I took his future position once his bones were too old and achy to play professionally anymore."

"I believe it," he grinned back at Harry. "I spent seven years in a dorm with him. I am well acquainted with his tantrums; you would not believe the number of things thrown out of our window in a fit of rage at the Slytherin team over the years. He got pretty good at it, we used to mark how far the item was thrown with a line and then measure it. His mum even gave me advice the summer before second year on how to navigate his grumpier moods. Came in handy, especially that one time I had to coax him out of the shower stall."

"Yet, you came back for more," Harry picked his teacup back up, drinking the last dregs with a satisfying smack of his lips. 

He just shrugged his shoulders, he had in fact come back for more. Knowing exactly what he was getting himself into. Oliver was the sweetest and kindest individual you would ever meet but Merlin was the man had a flare for the dramatics. "What can I say? I'm a masochist."

Harry stood up and stretched, glancing around the flat one more time eyes still searching for something. "Well, I had best let you get back to your evening. Enjoy your phone call with Oliver tonight and your date tomorrow night."

"Thanks," he muttered, through gritted teeth. The Weasley rumor mill was back in action, he should have known Charlie would not be able to resist gossiping with Ginny and Harry. Suddenly regretting the fact he divulged his gift to Oliver, certain word of that bit of juicy news would soon be making the rounds as well. Giving ammunition to Charlie who already believed he and Oliver were somehow destined to fall madly in love with each other. 

Pausing at the door, Harry turned around to face him. An odd look crossing his features as his eyes briefly flashed with a sort of protective fury. "Oh, and Percy. Just remember that I am the boy who lived and died and lived again. The one who vanquished the dark lord. If you hurt Oliver in any way or if I find out you are just using him as a political pawn in an effort to be named the next Minister of Transportation, I will not hesitate to end you. Fred and George will help me, along with Ginny and Angelina. Timothy got off fairly easy since he wasn't related to any of us and could press charges. You have no such protection. Good evening."

Harry said it with such sincerity in his voice he had no doubt that one tearful visit from Oliver would bring the full fury of their wrath down upon him. The toothy grin at the end and the chipper "good evening" made him audibly swallow, trying not to choke as he took a few steadying breaths which got caught in his throat. Having never been the recipient of the 'brotherly chat' he could finally understand why people would break out into a sweat when they spoke about it.

He couldn't exactly be mad though. Oliver deserved to have people who were looking out for his best interests. As much as he was constantly annoyed by his siblings, he knew without a doubt a battle cry would ring out to assemble the forces and defend his honor should he ever show up on a doorstep sobbing over some guy. Oliver deserved the same.  

At a quarter till eight he saw Oliver's name light up on his phone, pressing the green button he answered with "hello," hoping it didn't sound too excited or out of breath. He had been sitting on his couch since half past seven anxiously awaiting him to finally be able to call. 

"Hello," he could hear the smile in Oliver's voice again, there was something else there as well. A tenderness he didn't know anyone could possess. "I got your surprise when I came home this evening. Thank you."

"Oh good!" he exclaimed, taking a sip of his freshly topped off tea. "I was hoping they would be able to deliver them this evening for you."

A long pause on the other end, when Oliver spoke again his voice was even softer than before. "You really didn't have to do that."

"After my mother's behavior this weekend it was one hundred percent necessary," he replied, hearing a knock at his door. Ignoring it at first, he settled into the couch for his hopefully long conversation with Oliver. "I know how you said you liked to be wooed so I thought I would officially begin to woo you."

The knocking continued, finally getting up to answer the door. Thoroughly annoyed that some stranger who was probably trying to sell him something would be so rude as to interrupt the one thing he had been thinking about since yesterday evening, anxiously awaiting the opportunity to have a private conversation with the man who was quickly taking up more and more space in his head. As he pulled the door open, he nearly dropped his new phone in surprise. "Well, I am officially wooed," Oliver said with a grin rushing forward to envelope him in a hug. 

He hugged the shorter man back, wrapping his arms tightly around him. One hand moving to his hair so he could run his fingers through those soft curls, inhaling the scent of his shampoo which smelled like sandalwood. He really couldn't believe Oliver was here, his strong arms wrapped around him, and his head buried in his chest. "I will make you a cup of tea," he whispered into Oliver's hair, grinning at the fact he was worth an impromptu visit just to say thank you in person. A sense of pride at the knowledge he was capable of wooing Oliver who was probably sent far more expensive things than his favorite chocolates and flowers. Vibrant and full of life, much like the recipient. He picked them because they reminded him of Oliver, something that had been included in the accompanying note.  

"I would love a cup of tea," Oliver let go slowly, making his way over the couch where he sat down as if he had been coming to this flat for years. Kicking off his shoes and settling into the couch cushion, arranging the pillows until they were just right. 

Setting down the man's cup of tea he took his place opposite him on the couch. Tucking his legs under him in the same stance he always adopted, one that for years his family could never understand how it could possibly be comfortable. "So, what brings you to South London this evening?"

"A certain dashing redhead sent me flowers and chocolates," Oliver played along, grinning at him in a way which made his stomach erupt in butterflies. "I thought I would stop by to see how he spends his Tuesday evenings without me."

"That certain redhead is a bit of a nerd, unfortunately," he shrugged his shoulders, a sheepish look crossing his face. "He usually relaxes after work with a muggle puzzle or just spends hours reading his books."

Oliver seemed unfazed by his confession for how he spends his nights when he isn't curled up with a book or finishing up work for his job. "Well, thankfully for him, I happen to absolutely adore puzzles. Perhaps we could do one together while drinking our tea?"

"Ok," he agreed, reaching over to pat Oliver on the knee. Getting up to rummage around in the cabinet for a puzzle he thought Oliver might like. Not having any Quidditch ones he decided on one which depicted a scene of some cliffs overlooking the ocean. Having grown up on a farm in the Isle of Skye region of Scotland he knew how important his yearly trips to the coast were with his parents. Something he often talked about and a few times when he visited during the summer, he got to see some of his favorite cliffs. Never could be quite talked into broomstick rides down the cliffs, while beautiful he wasn't interested in seeing them while whizzing by on a broom. That was a little too close for comfort. 

Dumping out the puzzle on the coffee table he sat in the floor, Oliver moving to sit next to him. Both of them cross-legged on the floor with their knees touching. He was unsure if this was on accident or perhaps Oliver meant for their knees to graze each other. Either way he felt as if his blood was buzzing each time Oliver would move to work on his side of the puzzle. Occasionally reaching for a piece at the same time, their fingers brushing. At first Oliver quickly withdrew his hand, always letting him see if the piece fit first before trying it on his side. As the night wore on and a few cups of tea later the brushes of their fingers started to linger. Oliver's hand finding its way to his more and more often while he found himself wishing it would simply stay. 

"Who is Timothy?" the question escaped his lips before he had a chance to consider his words, having built up the suspense since Sunday dinner when he first learned of this mysterious person. He needed to know what this man did to Oliver that would necessitate Harry and the others getting involved to make his life a living hell in retaliation. 

Oliver let out a low whistle, both eyebrows raised in surprise. "Going for the jugular tonight I see."

"That was insensitive of me. You don't have to tell me if it is too painful. Fred and George just mentioned him on Sunday night and I was sort of curious," he thought it best not to mention Harry's visit earlier in the evening. In case the knowledge of people sticking their noses into his supposed relationship might upset Oliver. 

“No, it’s fine really. It was over a year ago," Oliver explained, swirling his tea around in his cup to give his hands something to do. "Timothy was my first real boyfriend and I thought I was in love. We moved pretty fast, a little too fast according to the people closest to me. Of course, I didn't listen to them, within one month of knowing the man he was living with me and I was footing all the bills. He claimed he was in between jobs and had nowhere to stay so I just let him move in, temporarily at first but then he just sort of never left. Everyone kept telling me he was bad news, but I didn't listen. I was on an extended tour in Belgium, Netherlands, and Germany. We were given unexpected leave for a few days and I wanted to surprise him, so I didn’t tell him I was coming back in town. I had it all planned out, I arranged for dinner to be delivered from one of our favorite restaurants and I bought him flowers for the occasion. When I walked into the house at first I thought no one was home but then I heard a weird sound coming from the bedroom. I walked in on him in the middle of having sex with one of my teammates’ sisters on the brand new insanely expensive sheets he had me buy before I went on tour. It was pretty ugly; the poor delivery person came up the front path right as I was throwing his things out on the lawn while screaming at him for shagging some girl in our bed. Took me having the sheets dry cleaned three times before I could stand the sight of them. They are on the guest bed now, insanely comfortable by the way. He is a shit person but has fantastic taste in bed linens.”

"That is absolutely horrendous," he winced involuntarily, hoping his flowers bore no semblance to the one he bought for Timothy. Harry's questions earlier suddenly making a lot more sense along with him constantly glancing around the flat. Not checking if there were signs he was in a relationship with Oliver but probably checking for signs he didn't actually live in his own flat. "Sorry for bringing down the overall mood of the evening."

Oliver offered him a shy smile, taking a sip of his tea. "No worries. The topic of past relationships was bound to come up at some point. Thankfully after I kicked him and his lover out Angelina redid the place for me when I went back on tour. She called it a Timothy-cism. Got rid of any trace of the boy that could have been left behind. Made my wallet a little lighter in the process as well."

"That sounds about right," he agreed, from what he knew of Angelina she did have rather expensive tastes. The quality of the twin's flat vastly improved once Angelina moved in and got rid of the beanbags that would spit beads across the room every time someone sat on them. 

"What about you?" Oliver tried a piece of the puzzle he would normally have known wouldn't fit. "What about your exes?"

He should have realized this conversation was inevitable. The usual reactions of panic and flee wouldn't really work here. For one this was his flat, running out the door screaming would leave him with nowhere to go for the night. There was also the fact Oliver had been open and honest with him so he supposed he should return the favor. "There aren't any. I have never had a relationship with a guy and my relationship with Penny at Hogwarts ended up just being a cover. Date until after Hogwarts when we can officially come out. She did that first, engaged to a very nice girl now."

"Smart," Oliver commented. "I didn't think about trying that method while at Hogwarts. Just didn't date anyone until after I graduated. Everyone just thought I was weird, too obsessed with Quidditch to notice the fan girls who threw themselves at me. It was quite the surprise when it turned out it was just because it wasn't fan boys."

"Don't know how people didn't figure it out sooner," he mused, himself being included in that group. It wasn't until the bonfire he had any inkling Oliver leaned in that direction, even then he blamed it on the alcohol. Assuming there was no way someone like Oliver could genuinely be interested in the likes of him. 

Oliver nodded his head, suddenly seeming a bit self-conscious. "Only Angelina figured it out. It was our last year when she finally just came out and asked. The twins thought I was kidding when I came out to my friends a few years later. Turned out to be a pretty awkward night. They kept making jokes and I kept telling them I was being serious, I was actually gay. They did at least have the decency to feel bad about the entire thing."

"Sounds like Fred and George," he reached over for a puzzle piece feeling Oliver's hand pounce on his own. Grabbing the puzzle piece before he could get to it, fitting it easily into place with an infuriatingly smug grin. Choosing to ignore his antics he continued on, sticking his tongue out at him. "I honestly have no idea how more people didn't figure it out with me as well. Especially my family. There are only so many times someone can decline all offers to set them up with a 'nice girl' before you would think their suspicions would be raised. In a way I sort of kept hoping my family would just figure it out and confront me about it. Save me the whole coming out experience."

"So- no exes huh?"

He should have known Oliver wouldn't forget about that little detail. "No, never made it that far with any of the guys."

Oliver slowly nodded, placing a few more pieces of the puzzle together. Biting his bottom lip in concentration, like he always did when he focused on a particularly complicated Quidditch play. "Any particular reason."

"It's just- part of it was the whole not being out to my family and the other was nobody ever just you know-"

"No one ever quite fit?" Oliver finished his sentence, his voice inflicting upwards at the end as if he was asking a question. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "That is actually a good description. No one has ever quite fit, I don't want to force something you know," he gestured towards the nearly completed puzzle as though he thought of some great metaphor. 

"Smart," Oliver agreed again, tapping his forehead. "Only fools rush into something. Trust me... I have been that fool."

Reaching over to squeeze Oliver's knee he waited until he caught his eye. "You aren't a fool, but I do agree about not rushing things. Just let things naturally happen at their own pace."

"I agree," Oliver checked his watch with a slight wince. "Almost midnight. I should really get home. Niffler is going to already be pissed at me for being so late with her nightly snack. I really don't want her peeing in my sock drawer again."

"Can't have angry cats," he replied, standing up and offering Oliver his hand. Thankfully the man helped him pull him to his feet, their hands still intertwined as they stood there. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye."

Oliver gave him a small smile, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he grasped his hand with a comforting squeeze giving it a small shake. "Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," he sighed, withdrawing his hand from the embrace. Oliver's hand had been warm, much like the rest of him. The handshake felt like he was being enveloped in another one of his hugs, comforting in a way he wasn't used to experiencing. Unsure of what to do with his tingling hand now he stuck both hands into his pockets, scuffing his toe awkwardly against the floor. "I um- I had a lot of fun tonight."

"I did as well," Oliver also scuffed his foot, glancing over at the bookcase to avoid meeting his gaze. "We should do this more often. Just hang out together. Like old times."

He thought Oliver's sudden fidgeting rather endearing, normally the man exuded confidence. Seeing him unsure and vulnerable was like seeing the real Oliver, the one who had to hide beneath a mask all day to be taken seriously as captain of Puddlemere United. "I would absolutely love that."

With a winning grin and another quick goodbye Oliver disapparated from his flat. Looking around at the living room he knew he should at least try and tidy up a bit before heading to bed. Picking up the tea mugs he couldn't quite bring himself to do anything about the most finished puzzle quite yet. Deciding after a few moments of consideration that he should leave it for now, allow for the opportunity that Oliver would come back to finish what they started. 

Chapter Text

"I'm walking fast through the traffic lights, busy streets and busy lives. And all we know is touch and go. We are alone with our changing minds... And I never saw you coming. And I'll never be the same. You come around and the armor falls, pierce the room like a cannon ball. Now all we know is don't let go." Taylor Swift- State of Grace

His usual retreat was the library. It had always been his safe haven, even if it hadn't always provided him with the exact answer to whatever question he'd been pondering. Just being in the presence of carefully curated knowledge was the key to soothing his constantly racing thoughts. When the rest of the world seemed to be falling down around him, he could always lose himself for a few hours in the midst of leather-bound tomes. Forget for a moment about his pressing responsibilities and maybe indulge in the fantasy that nobody needed anything from him. 

In his opinion research didn't always need to have a practical purpose. It was meant to be indulged in selfishly, for the pursuit of knowledge simply for the sake of knowledge. 

It was no surprise to anyone when he showed up to Oliver's flat Wednesday night, his arms laden with a multitude of thick volumes and a long list of potential ideas he kept in case he ever had time for an independent project. All of them jotted down haphazardly on pieces of loose parchment, existing simultaneously at different stages of the research process. 

With a sigh and an accompanying eye roll Oliver took the books from his arms, depositing them on the coffee table with a resounding thunk. "You look fancy this evening," Oliver tried to sound offhanded, his eyes lingering in a way which made him blush furiously. Starting with his ears burning as the red splotches moved down his neck, wishing Oliver would simultaneously quit looking at him like that and never take his eyes off of him.  

Having gone straight from work to his flat to grab the necessary books and other materials he hadn't bothered to change into more comfortable attire, looking down at his suit and tie he figured he was a bit overdressed for dinner at a pub. "Any ideas?" 

"Lose the jacket for starters," Oliver suggested, coming to stand by him as he took his advice and shrugged off his suit jacket. Passing a critical gaze over him Oliver tapped his chin in contemplation. "Untuck your shirt as well to give the ensemble a more casual appearance."

"Any other advice my fashion forward friend?" he grinned at Oliver who raised one eyebrow before he started to undo his tie rather slowly. Oliver's movements were deliberate, his fingertips brushing his pale freckled skin more times than was technically necessary to complete the task. Finally freeing his neck from the tie, he haphazardly tossed it across a chair, smirking at the conflicted look which crossed his date's face. He wanted to say something about Oliver's treatment of his clothing, but all he could do in this moment was attempt to remember how to swallow and perhaps how to breathe normally. 

"Your shirt is buttoned too high for a night out on the town," Oliver's voice was low, that smirk still tugging at the corners of his lips. Reaching up he undid the top three buttons, ensuring he took his time. His fingers lingering on the smooth skin of his neck. Trailing up to his face where he traced the line of his jaw, eyes darkening as they gazed into his. "Perfect as always. You are a very handsome man, Percy Weasley." 

He couldn't breathe. He could barely think. All he could feel was Oliver's fingers against his skin, the sensation of his touch lingered even after he withdrew his hands. His mind replaying the moment, burned into his memory as though on permanent repeat. Longing to find a way to prolong the sensation yet knowing they needed to head out to the pub if they wanted to have dinner at a reasonable hour.  

Were he another man he would have said to hell with dinner, shoving Oliver against the wall of his entryway and snogged him senseless. He was Percy Weasley though, and he was not the type of man who did such things. Even if it was all he could think about were those fingers, those lips, that body standing before him in a dark gray jumper probably chosen for a reason. Doing its job quite well if he was being honest. 

Forcing himself to swallow he pulled his mind out of its spiraling thoughts. Blinking several times in rapid succession to bring his attention back into sharp focus on the task at hand. "Best get going. Don't want to postpone dinner too long so we can still have time to go over these ideas for the research project I will have to complete."

"You and those timetables," Oliver grinned, peeking out the window at the weather and frowning. The usual spring downpours had officially set in, drowning the busy streets of London in a torrential thunderstorm. 

Pulling on his robes over his now more casual looking outfit he rolled his eyes at Oliver's lack of punctuality. "Without me you would have spent the entirety of your Hogwarts career in detention for failure to show up to your classes on time. You were quite thankful for my timetables back then."

"Oh Perce!" Oliver gave a good-natured laugh. "I didn't have a punctuality problem I had a couldn't sit still and care about some boring old magic classes problem. I much preferred spending my time practicing Quidditch, far easier to measure your improvement when there are brooms and Quaffles involved."

"You can also see your improvement with spells," he pointed out, digging around in his pockets for the umbrella he could have sworn he had earlier in the day. "When you wave your wand, and something happens then you know you have it down."

Oliver gave an endearing snort, watching him rummage around with amused glint in his eyes. "Not always true. Sometimes I waved my wand and utter chaos happened. Pretty sure there is still some bird flapping around the grounds of Hogwarts with its tail end all messed up from my botched Transfiguration attempt. Quaffles on the other hand never earned me a rather unpleasant lecture from McGonagall about not waving my wand around carelessly." 

"McGonagall was certainly not happy with you," he agreed, remembering the way their head of house stared down her Quidditch captain. The normally confident Oliver cowering in his seat under the full weight of her disappointment at letting his half-transfigured bird jump out the open window. "I can't believe I forgot an umbrella," he huffed, patting the pockets of his robes as if one would magically conjure itself out of thin air. Of all the things to walk out of his flat without this morning it had to be the one thing that would actually come in useful to combat the torrential downpour the two of them were about to encounter. 

Oliver smirked at him, holding up his Puddlemere blue umbrella. "Lucky for you I have one we can share."

Glancing over at the umbrella he had his doubts. Oliver was not a small man; he wasn't entirely sure those broad shoulders of his would leave much room for his lanky form to squeeze in tight. Seeming to sense his date's hesitation Oliver rolled his eyes, taking out his wand and tapping the umbrella to enlarge it so they could both fit underneath comfortably. 

"Look at you," he chuckled, suppressing his urge to point out that it would have been more practical to duplicate the umbrella so they could both have one. "Finally using that head of yours for something other than a target for bludgers."

"Jackarse," Oliver muttered, glowering at him from where he was leaned up against the wall in his entryway. Patiently waiting to finally be on their way to dinner.

Holding out his out his hand expectantly, causing Oliver to tilt his head curiously at him before reaching out his own hand in return with a small smirk. "If you want to hold hands with me then you will have to come a bit closer."

"The umbrella if you please," he clarified, opening and closing his hand to indicate he was still waiting for him to hand it over. Oliver was a few inches shorter than him, reason dictated that the tallest person held the umbrella. However, this did not seem to matter to the man who was currently holding the umbrella hostage.  

"Oh," Oliver's smirk morphed into a mischievous grin, sauntering over to him. "Do you mean this umbrella?" shaking the umbrella slightly before hiding it behind his back.

Sighing heavily, he put both hands on his hips. His gaze narrowing as he glared at the grinning idiot. "We will have plenty of time for you to terrorize me later," he stepped closer until they were chest to chest, looking down at Oliver who was completely unfazed. "Now, hand over the umbrella. I would rather not be bumping my head all night because some fool can't hold it up high enough."

"This is certainly cozy," Oliver breathed, still holding the umbrella behind his back so he would have to reach around him to grab it. Deciding to engage in his little game he wrapped his arms around his waist, hands grasping for the umbrella which was always just out of reach. 

"A gentleman would give me the umbrella," he leaned into Oliver, deciding to play towards the man's code of ethics. A true Gryffindor would balk at anyone insinuating they were not chivalrous in any way.

Oliver didn't appear to care about that tonight, shaking his head at him as he moved the umbrella around behind him. "It's my umbrella. You forgot yours. If you are nice to me tonight, I might let you hold it on the way back from dinner."

"Fine," he pouted, if he wanted, he could pin Oliver's arms and take the umbrella by force. However, he was incredibly hungry and didn't feel like keeping a close eye on the man the entire walk to the restaurant. Not putting it past Oliver to accost him on the street and land both of them in a mud puddle, something Oliver would find hilarious and quite a fun adventure. He would simply be wet and miserable. 

Oliver claimed the pub was only about a twenty-minute walk from his flat, ten minutes if they hurried. Not that he was necessarily against exercise, but he wasn't a Quidditch player who was used to being out in all sorts of nasty weather conditions. Normally during a torrential rainstorm, he would cast a few charms over himself and apparate into a deserted alleyway. Only appearing muggle long enough to pop into the restaurant to grab his takeaway before apparating back to his own flat. Oliver seemed to be intent upon having a lovely stroll through the pouring rain, practically whistling and skipping along beside him. Taking no note of the puddles on the sidewalk, simply splashing his way through them. 

Perfectly content with his lot in life. Rain and all.

He was not so thrilled. Feeling more like a drowned rat at the moment which was only serving to increase his overall grumpiness. It didn't help that in the midst of the umbrella drama he forgot to cast waterproofing charms, ending with his shoes and the bottom of his trousers being waterlogged as they sloshed their way down the crowded sidewalk. Something he would have to remedy immediately upon arriving at the pub. There was nothing worse than being cold and wet.

"So, tell me more about this meeting you had with Mr. Quinn," Oliver insisted, holding the umbrella in the hand furthest from the man standing next to him so he couldn't try and take it from him again. 

"I already told you about it on the phone," he replied, making a futile swipe for the umbrella. Oliver's lightning-fast reflexes foiling his plan causing a grin to spread across his smug face as he stuck his tongue out at him.

Making a 'no, no' motion with one finger Oliver balanced the umbrella in his open palm for no other reason than to thoroughly annoy him. "Nope. You gave me a brief synopsis at best. I want a detailed description, verbatim. Complete with all of your thoughts and feelings around the subject. I will not take no for an answer." 

He huffed, irritated at being wet yet feeling his mood lift slightly at the knowledge Oliver would willingly submit himself to a detailed description of 'Ministry antics' as his family described them. Hugging his arms around himself, he pulled his robes tight against a gust of wind which brought a torrent of freezing rain with it. Settling Oliver with a half-hearted glare as he grinned back at him. "You are insufferable," launching immediately into a detailed recap of his meeting on Monday morning exactly as requested. 

The pub was a small stone building with ivy creeping up the side of it, tucked away on an almost deserted street removed from the main area of Oliver's neighborhood. Had he not been following his date there is no way he could have ever found this place. Walking in the old wooden front door it became clear that Oliver had been here a few times before, several of the people working this evening greeted him fondly. Oliver offered a pleasant greeting in return, using their names as he inquired about people he assumed were family members of the staff. 

"Your usual table is available if you like," one of the servers gestured to a booth in front of a large window with the glow from the streetlights streaming through. 

"You bring all of your dates here?" he lightly teased as Oliver led the two of them over to the table.

"Only the really special ones," Oliver replied, stopping as they reached their destination. Shedding their robes as they slid into the booth, feeling a slight warmth swirling about his feet he looked up to find Oliver grinning cheekily at him. A small wink from across the table as he moved his legs around relishing in once again being dry and warm. He would have to thank the man later for his bit of non-verbal magic which did wonders to lift his overall mood, allowing him the opportunity to relax a bit and enjoy his evening. 

Scanning the menu and beer selection he found they fell into an easy silence with one another. He expected to be nervous; he always was on dates. Often not even making it through dinner before he found an excuse to retreat to the safety of his own flat. The fact that he was on what he assumed was a date with Oliver who could make him feel comfortable in his own skin and perfectly at ease was nothing short of a miracle. 

As the waiter brought their beers, he found they had more than enough to say to each other. He learned Oliver and Simone frequented this pub, along with Simone's husband who Oliver joked functioned as more of a third wheel. The light shifted through the window as the sun set behind the gray clouds that covered the sky. The glow from the streetlights becoming more prominent as the rain continued to pelt the window. Making a rather nice sound he thought complimented the overall cozy feel of the small pub as they sat making easy conversation. 

"You are going to love their fish and chips," Oliver commented, as the waiter hurried over with their order. 

He looked down at his plate and was pleasantly surprised at the presentation of the food. The fish looked crispy and the fries didn't have an unappealing soggy texture to them; overall, it looked delicious. Taking a bite of the fish, chewing thoughtfully as he nodded appreciatively before taking a bite of his chips. Oliver was staring at him quietly, waiting patiently for his verdict. "Quite lovely."

Oliver's lopsided grin as he dug into his own plate of food causing a faint warmth to spread from his chest. Biting back a grin of his own he cast his eyes down as they fell back into that same easy silence as before. 

Halfway through his meal he settled back into the booth as he studied Oliver who didn't seem bothered by the fact that neither of them said a single word since they began their meal. "There is something I needed to speak with you about," he took a sip of his beer, trying to hide the slight shake of his hands as he contemplated whether right now was the best time to bring this up. At least in public Oliver would be less likely to shout at him for simply being the reluctant Weasley family messenger.

Oliver looked up at him, a twitch of his mouth at his date's serious tone and expression. "What is it?"

Sighing noisily, he rubbed the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he felt coming on. "I have need of a permadate. My dad would like for you to accompany me to Teddy's third birthday party this Saturday. If you are free."

"Have your parents apologized to you for the horrible things they said about you Sunday night?" Oliver asked plainly, always one to get straight to his point without much regard for trying to be political about anything. It was a quality he always secretly admired. 

He frowned at the man sitting across the table from him, watching him for a moment as he swirled his beer waiting for a reply to his question. "My dad sent me a memo at the Ministry this morning. Said he wanted to apologize in person on Saturday," he shrugged, putting his elbow on the table he rested his chin in his palm. His free hand swirling his own beer around before taking a long sip. "They owe you an apology as well you know, my mother being the main one."

"Is the memo enough for you to feel comfortable seeing them again this weekend?" Oliver asked, taking a bite of his chips. Completely ignoring the second part of his statement, something which did not go unnoticed. 

"They're my family," he shrugged, shifting uncomfortably under Oliver's gaze. "I don't have much of a choice. Can't ignore them forever I suppose."

It had been a few days since he had last spoken to his parents, and he thought he was actually handling it all quite well. The fact that he wasn't receiving ugly howlers from his siblings this time around actually helped. 

In fact, he received some rather lovely letters from both Bill and Ginny. Each offering their sympathies for the things their mother said to him on Sunday night. While he would of course prefer an in-person conversation, perhaps even an apology he wasn't going to be picky. Best to take whatever kindness he could get from his family. 

Oliver combed a hand through his hair, slowly nodding his head. When he spoke his voice was quiet, almost bordering on a whisper. "You always have a choice. If you want an actual apology from your parents, then you have a right to ask for and receive one."

Making a flippant hand gesture, an odd sound at the back of his throat escaping his lips as he hoped this would be the end of the conversation. 

He should have known Oliver wasn't going to let it go that easily. 

"I am serious Perce," Oliver's heavy sigh made him look up from where he had been staring intently at his food. "You don't have to put up with half-arsed apologies and backhanded digs at your career goals. You are allowed to set boundaries with people, family included, and expect those boundaries to be respected."

Sounded an awful lot like what Penny was always telling him. Recounting something she learned about during a therapy session or from one of the books she was always reading regarding the subject of moving on from a traumatic event. Having spent the year before the battle on the run and in hiding, hunted by the Ministry- some of the same people she used to work for and with- he couldn't exactly fault her for having some lingering issues. 

He on the other hand had no reason to feel like such a mess following the war. 

Raising his eyes to the ceiling of the pub he tried not to let his emotions get the best of him. The war and his mistakes were a difficult subject, one he hoped to avoid for just a bit longer when it came to Oliver. "After what I put them through-"

"What?" Oliver cut him off, not in a way that was meant to be rude. When he cared about someone or something he wanted them to know it. "What did you put them through? Years of being the black sheep of the family, having your accomplishments belittled by every single family member, ridiculed and teased mercilessly because you were quiet and serious like that was some great crime, had your prefect and head boy badges stolen and defaced with ugly words, told to leave your house because nobody would tell you what was going on. There was a war brewing Perce, and nobody told us the truth. Everyone expected blind loyalty and assumed we were too young to know any better. So no, I don't think you being forced to pack up your stuff and listening to the Ministry- who by the way weren't exactly the bad guys in that situation- gives your mother or father the right to say what they said. I'm sorry, but that is just how I feel."

"So, are you coming on Saturday?" he asked, touched that Oliver would feel so strongly about his issues with his family. Not sure yet if he was ready to quite believe everything he just said to him. 

Oliver huffed, scowling for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, I will come. Mainly because I rather enjoy being around Teddy. The moment your parents start to lay into you though, that is it. I am leaving and you should think about doing the same."

"You won't be there more than half a minute or so if that is your criteria," he attempted a lame self-depreciating joke. The hard look from Oliver suggested he wasn't in the mood for some dark humor at the moment. 

"I am serious Perce," Oliver began, a look he couldn't quite place settling over his features. "You sell yourself short you know. If I was half as brilliant as you are then I would be plotting world domination. Instead, I sit and plot how to stop balls from going through my hoops and having the exact opposite effect on the other team's hoops."

Sensing Oliver's attempt to shift the overall mood of their conversation he gratefully accepted. "That is important work," he commented, with a serious look marred by his grin. "You might even win an award for it one day."

"Oh yeah," Oliver scoffed. "I am expecting my application for being commemorated on a chocolate frog card to be approved any day now. It will be my crowning achievement. My parents will be so proud."

"I didn't know you could put in an application for-" noting the giant grin currently spreading across Oliver's face he rolled his eyes at his antics. "Honestly Oliver! Sometimes it is so hard to know if you are joking or not."

Oliver regarded them over his glass, taking a long sip of his beer. "Oh Perce, just assume that I am always joking until I tell you otherwise."

Looking out the window at the rain which was still streaming down the window he inwardly groaned. Cursing his bad luck that today of all days the usual English spring weather would choose to make its unwanted appearance. 

Oliver let him pay the bill with no protest and was currently engaged in a conversation with the waiter. Looking at pictures on the waiter's cell phone of what he assumed were the man's kids from the snippets he was able to catch. Whether Oliver was actually interested or not was difficult to discern, he did find it rather sweet and endearing that he took the time to be polite and friendly with the staff. 

Pulling on his robes he glanced at the umbrella, which was gripped loosely in Oliver's hand, considering for a second how easy it would be to grab it from him. Getting into a public fight over something silly was the only thing keeping him from following through with his plan. Oliver glanced over at him, tracking his gaze carefully down to his hand. Instead of handing it over like a gentleman he simply held it up slightly with that infuriating grin, winking at him for effect. 

"Well," the waiter's name that he hadn't quite caught said. "I had best let you both get on with your evening."

Oliver nodded, grinning at the man. "All right. You and your family have fun on your holiday, tell them I said hello."

"Will do," the man grinned back. "Enjoy your business trip to Germany."

With a wave Oliver led him out the door, stopping under the covered doorway to pull themselves together before stepping back out into the downpour. He couldn't stop the chuckle escaping from deep inside his stomach, finding it extremely funny that Oliver led this double life as a businessman when in the muggle world. "What is so funny?" Oliver demanded, glaring at him. 

"You-" he choked out, barely able to breathe as he doubled over with laughter. "The image of you in a three-piece suit with a little leather briefcase while hurrying to and from your business meetings."

Oliver huffed at him, popping open the umbrella rather aggressively. "Well, it's not like I can tell them I am a Quidditch player. Telling them I am on some muggle sports team could be too easily disproved. Businessman was the easiest cover story. I left once for a week on tour and didn't tell them, came back to find that I was in quite a bit of trouble. They thought something horrible happened to me. So, now I let them know when I am going to be gone for a while."

Still giggling, he tried to pull himself back under control. Every time he thought he was done an image of Oliver trying to assimilate himself into a boring desk job would pop into his head and he would dissolve into another fit. 

"You are so mean to me!" Oliver turned his head as though he was horridly offended. "And here I was seriously considering letting you hold the umbrella on the way back to my flat."

His giggling ended almost instantaneously as he straightened his back, adjusting his clothing while clearing his throat. "My apologies. The umbrella if you please."

Oliver was staring at him as though he had three heads coming out of his body, slowly handing over the umbrella which he eagerly grabbed. "Ready?" Oliver asked, raising his brow and offering his arm. 

Slipping his arm around Oliver's offered one he nodded his head. As they walked through the streets his brain felt fuzzy around the edges making it difficult to think through anything that wasn't a necessary task. Unsure of exactly what was causing this phenomenon. He had been closer to Oliver than this, at the party on Friday night they linked arms and while pleasant hadn't addled his brain to the point that any coherent thoughts were rendered impossible. 

Oliver glanced over with a concerned expression at his scrunched-up face. "You good? I showered and everything for you."

He huffed a small laugh, grinning at the joke as Oliver pretended to sniff his shirt. There was something in his gaze, the way he was staring at him that made him want to pause for a second. Analyze the look and all of the possible meanings. Perhaps even get to the bottom of his still slightly fuzzy brain. "It's raining," he replied simply, as if that explained everything.

Oliver looked around him as though he was trying to figure something out. Sticking out his hand from underneath the safety of the umbrella and then licking a few raindrops off of his palm with an awed look on his face. "Huh? I hadn't noticed until you pointed it out. Who needs a weather report when you are around?"

He didn't verbally respond to Oliver's sarcasm just unhooked his arm and shoved the man's shoulder. Watching him stumble sideways he quickly turned and ran down the sidewalk, leaving Oliver standing slightly stunned in pouring rain. "Percival Ignatius Weasley! Give me back my umbrella you little thief!"

He could hear the pounding of Oliver's footsteps as he chased him down the still crowded sidewalk, in what he hoped was the correct direction of the man's flat. Almost running into a few people who he tried to apologize to while simultaneously laughing and continuing to run away from the person who was chasing him. Coming to a red light, he pressed the button to cross the street frantically, knowing there was no way Oliver wasn't going to catch up to him before the light changed. A few seconds later a dripping wet Oliver was standing before him with his hands on his hips, his mouth unsure if it wanted to grin or perhaps scowl at him. "Now Oliver," he began carefully, trying to appease the man he just shoved out into the downpour and left to his own devices. "You can't get angry with me. You were very rude about my simple observation it was raining. You know how I despise being wet."

"I'm not mad," Oliver stated stepping forward, temporarily taking away his ability to speak. Pulling the umbrella closer to him he thought for one second Oliver was going to attempt to kiss him, feeling his heart rate speed up and his jaw clenched closed he wished for anything but that. Stepping forward quickly Oliver threw his arms around him twirling him about in a way some might find romantic. Perhaps he would have as well if Oliver wasn't soaking wet and therefore transferring his current affliction to him. 

"Oh Merlin! Oliver!" he cried, trying to wiggle out of the man's death grip around his middle section. "You are wet! You are getting me wet!"

Oliver set him down on the ground, looking quite pleased with himself as he watched his date groan at the state of his clothes. "It's raining," Oliver said simply, an amused smirk on his lips. "That is what happens when it rains."

Opening and closing his mouth a few times he tried to think of a witty comeback. His brain slightly addled by the way the front of his clothes were sticking to his skin and the proximity of Oliver's soaked body.

He heard it before he saw it. The unmistakable sound of someone throwing on the brakes of their car as they looked up to realize the light they thought was green was in fact red. The screeching of tires sending a wave of water spraying up, bracing himself for the onslaught of diluted dirt and oil. 

The wave never came, eyes tightly shut he felt someone wrap their wet arms around him pulling him out of the way at the last possible second. A familiar groan let him know he was in Oliver's arms and the poor man had taken the brunt of the spray, dousing his back in disgusting street water. Opening his eyes, he was met with Oliver's warm brown eyes and his face slightly scrunched as he grumbled about idiot muggle drivers. 

"You didn't have to do that," he smiled up at Oliver who just shrugged his shoulders. 

"You suit was so fancy. I didn't want it to be covered in dirt and stuff." 

It was- unsettling? wonderful? insanely romantic?- to be held in Oliver's arms as the rain poured down around them. He wasn't entirely sure what to do in this moment, supposed he should untangle himself from Oliver's grip. He thought he would be more upset at the fact that he was now soaking wet as well, his clothes practically plastered to his skin. At this point he should be squirming to get free so he could rush home to get dry.

None of that happened.  He just continued to be transfixed by Oliver's magnificently warm brown eyes, his jaw slowly unclenching as he relaxed into the man's strong arms. 

"What?" Oliver asked, taking note of the weird look on his friend's face. 

Shaking his head clear himself of the thoughts running through his mind, he tried to grin. "Nothing, I just- I just forgot how short you are."

"Hey now!" Oliver's warm laughter sending an involuntary shiver down his spine which he could always blame on them standing in the pouring rain in the middle of a rather chilly April night. "We can't all be six feet tall."

"You certainly can't," he choked back a laugh at Oliver's indignant hiss at being teased for his height. 

Oliver scoffed, eyes narrowing down at him while a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Well, I- I never! I will drop you in a mudpuddle Percy Weasley. I don't care how fancy your suit is."

"You wouldn't dare-" his sentence was cut off by the sensation of being let go and falling to the ground. A half second, then back into the warm and safe embrace of the man who had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen in his entire life. 

Slightly concerning thought but he would deal with that later. Right now, he was busy being indignant that this man had the audacity to even pretend to drop him onto the nasty sidewalk. 

"Don't worry Perce. I've got you," Oliver promised, tightening his arms around him as he let himself once again relax into those arms. 

"I knew you didn't have it in you," quirking a small smile, he let one of his hands find their way to Oliver's cheek. His thumb stroking the smooth skin as he watched the rain stream down his face. "Too much of a Gryffindor to do something so unchivalrous as drop someone in such a fancy suit into a mudpuddle."

"Yeah, darn that chivalry," Oliver's eyes darkened just a little, biting one side of his bottom lip. "Really gets in the way sometimes."

Untangling himself from Oliver's arms required him to remove his hand from the man's cheek, a movement which caused his chest to almost ache in an uncomfortable way. Ignoring the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach as Oliver kept one hand on the small of his back, he leaned down to grab the umbrella he dropped in the midst of everything. Closing it he just shrugged at Oliver who grinned at him, shaking his hair a little causing water to fly off of it. "Stop it," he laughed, covering his face with his hands. 

There was no reason to even bother with the umbrella after standing in the rain for several minutes it wasn't going to do either of them any good. On a crowded street in the middle of muggle London they couldn't exactly whip out wands and dry themselves off. Oliver took charge of the situation, grabbing his hand to run with him the rest of the way to the flat. They arrived on his doorstep breathless and thoroughly drenched, grinning like fools as their cheeks glowed pink. Pushing the front door open the two of them stumbled into the entry way, laughing at the ridiculous situation which they both found quite hilarious. 

Reaching into his robe pocket he withdrew his wand, preparing to wave it to dry the two of them off. Now that they were inside the warm flat, he was suddenly very aware of the fact that his clothes were sticking uncomfortably to his skin. Oliver's clothes would have to be changed completely, after being sprayed with street water just drying him off wouldn't be enough to ensure his comfort. 

"I have some extra clothes if you want to borrow them," Oliver offered, picking at his shirt which was dripping with brown-tinged water. "That way you don't have to lounge about in your work clothes."

"Sure, if you have some to spare," following Oliver into his bathroom where he opened the closet door, stepping to the side to allow his guest inside. He had to admit that while he had spent absolutely none of his free time imagining what Oliver Wood's closet looked like, he never could have imagined this. The walk-in closet had to be close to the size of his bedroom in his flat and it was filled with clothes. Racks of clothing lined three of the walls, ordered into neat sections by colors and types. Something which actually quite impressed him, he helped his younger siblings move into their flats and tried to impart his wisdom upon them on the importance of having a neat and orderly closet so they could easily find whatever they were looking for. Advice that had so far never been heeded, all of his siblings thought of the floor as a suitable place to store their clean clothes. 

Glancing around the closet he marveled at how organized the space truly was. The clothes seemed to be organized in a way that put the most used clothing, in Oliver's case his workout clothes and casual wear, towards the front of the room with his lesser worn clothing along the back wall. On the one wall which didn't have the double racks full of shirts, trousers, and robes he admired the shoe rack which contained more pairs of trainers than he had ever seen outside of a shoe store.  

"What?" Oliver looked at him curiously, watching as he pondered the amount of shoes crammed into one space. 

"Nothing," he murmured quietly, trying to hide the grin spreading across his face. "Just never imagined you would have a secret shopping addiction. Learning new things about you every single day it seems."

"Piss off," Oliver laughed, gently tossing him some warmup pants and coordinating sweatshirt along with a t-shirt and dry socks. "I get to keep the clothes I model in the photoshoots and clothing stores are always sending players clothes so they can be photographed in them by the newspapers."

Grinning cheekily at Oliver he gestured around the massive closet. "Sounds like an awfully convenient cover story to me."

Shrugging his shoulders Oliver suddenly looked a little nervous, scratching the back of his neck he shuffled from foot to foot. "Um, you can have the bathroom to dry off properly and to get changed in private. If you feel like a shower, you are welcome to take one. There is also a drawer with some toiletries from the hotels I stay at, you are welcome to those as well. I will take the bedroom; I want to check under the bed for Niffler. She likes to hide there and pounce feet as you walk by. Just knock before you come out."

"I appreciate your generous hospitality," he grinned, using a teasing tone to help ease his friend's anxiety over their situation. Even though he wasn't entirely sure why them changing would cause Oliver to be so anxious. They were roommates for seven years; it wasn't like they hadn't seen each other change before. Oliver used to come in from Quidditch practice and immediately remove his usually sopping wet clothes covered in mud, something he always made a fuss over under the premise of him getting mud all over the room. The reality being the sight of Oliver shirtless made his stomach flutter in an uncomfortable way. 

Perhaps that was the issue. Though, he wasn't sure how the sight of him could make anyone's stomach flutter. He lacked any semblance of abs, and his torso was pale and covered in freckles. Not sun-kissed, toned, and in possession of a six pack. Really, he was the only one in trouble here. 

"Any time," Oliver teased back, that easy grin returning as he walked out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. 

Sliding down the length of the wall he took a proper look around the bathroom, noticing the clawfoot tub and massive shower he hadn't given much thought to a few minutes ago. Considering for a moment the possibility of taking a quick shower he ultimately decided that felt a little weird. Even though Oliver told him it was perfectly fine he just wasn't sure their newly rekindled friendship was quite there yet, perhaps at a later date he wouldn't think twice about freshening up in Oliver's bathroom. 

This wasn't him. Well, not the usual version of himself. More like a romanticized version of the uptight and straightlaced Percy his family had known for the majority of his short life. Certainly not the sort of person who flirted with a famous Quidditch player and ran laughing through the rain with him. 

That wasn't him. Was it?

A quick wave of his wand and he was finally fully dry. Looking at the pile of Oliver's clothes he debated not changing into them. Surely, the man on the other side of the door would understand. Caught up in a moment which made him feel like somebody other than Percy Weasley, he changed his mind, he would be keeping the stuffy and now wrinkled suit on for the rest of the evening. 

They did look comfortable though. The sweatshirt was soft and holding it up to stare at it he could smell the faint scent of Oliver- sandalwood, leather, and something else he couldn't quite identify. Earthy, the sort of scent one would expect from a Quidditch player who spent most of his day outside. 

He could at least put on the shirt and sweatshirt he decided, slipping his own shirt off and slipping Oliver's clothes on. They were comfortable, warm. The faint scents pleasant to his nose as he hugged his arms around his stomach. 

Might as well put the lounge pants on as well, really complete the look of casual Percy in slightly oversized clothes. He fixed the pants to avoid a potentially embarrassing situation but left the sweatshirt as is- oversized and incredibly warm. 

Feeling quite pleased with his decision he knocked on the door. Waiting a second or two before hearing Oliver's muffled voice. "Come on out Perce. I want you to meet Niffler."

Opening the door, he was met with the site of Oliver sitting on his bed cradling a displeased looking black cat, with white paws and a white patch on its chest, that he could only assume was the infamous Niffler. "She is cute," he remarked, causing Oliver's head to snap up and the grin on his face to falter as he stared at him. Eyes dilating slightly as the man seemed to stop breathing for a second. "What?"

"You um- the sweatshirt uh- It- it really brings out your uh- your freckles. It's nice."

Doing a small twirl in the doorway to show off his ensemble he tried to figure out why Oliver was acting so weird all of a sudden. "Thanks. And what does Niffler think of my outfit?" Glancing over at the bedside table he noticed the flowers he sent to Oliver as an apology for his mother and father's behavior sitting next to the lamp. His heart constricted slightly as a warmth spread throughout him, the butterflies in his stomach practically trying to fight their way out. 

"She approves," Oliver replied, seeming to have recovered a bit from whatever startled him a minute ago. Holding up the small cat who glowered at him, while Oliver didn't seem to notice Niffler wasn't exactly thrilled with how her evening was turning out. "Want to hold her?"

"I don't want to get scratched," he said cautiously, trying to communicate with his eyes to the cat that he had nothing to do with its' dad's behavior in case the tiny demon enacted revenge later on in the evening. 

Oliver rolled his eyes, turning Niffler around to begin placing kisses on her face. "Niffler doesn't scratch or bite Perce. She is a good kitty, yes, she is. We don't let bad kitties into the house, do we? No, we don't. Only good kitties live here."

"Do you always talk to her in a baby voice," he asked in an amused tone, leaning against the doorframe. Honestly just waiting for Niffler to turn on her dad. One good swipe to the nose to prove that bad kitties did in fact live here.

"Yes, I do," Oliver continued on with peppering the poor cat's face with more kisses. "She loves it."

Shaking his head at the pair of them he couldn't help but find it just a bit endearing. Something about seeing a burly man such as Oliver handling the tiny cat with such care and speaking to it like she was an actual baby caused another flutter of butterflies in his stomach to start up. "Yeah, she looks completely thrilled."

"Don't you listen to him Niffles," Oliver's voice returned to somewhat normal, setting the cat down on the bed who ruffled its fur a bit but then rubbed up against Oliver's side until he started to pet her. "He is just being a Mr. Grumpypants because he wants to spend all evening with his nose buried in a dusty book."

"Dusty book?" he scoffed, moving closer to the bed. "Those books hold important knowledge regarding the principles of magic. You should try reading something other than Quidditch magazines and muggle fantasy or science fiction novels."

Oliver quite petting the cat, causing her to meow mournfully until he started back up again. Eyes narrowing at the man standing in front of him. "That is quality literature Percival."

"Those books are quality literature in the same way Niffler is a good kitty," he teased, bracing himself for the biting retort he was sure was coming. "They aren't."

Oliver put his hands over the cat's ears as if to protect her from such cruel words, a move which offended his cat causing her to jump off the bed and hide once again. "Percy! You hurt Niffler's feelings by insinuating she isn't a good kitty."

"She's a cat Oliver," he started to move towards the bedroom door, beckoning Oliver to follow him. "As long as you feed her then she doesn't care what you do or say."

Oliver followed him, shutting the door behind him to keep Niffler secured. "Shows what you know. If you ever own a cat I wouldn't be surprised if it nibbles on your toes while you sleep. They know when someone doesn't like them you know?"

He just groaned in response, tilting his head back slightly as they made their way into the living room. 

"Do you mind if I put some music on to accompany our research session tonight?" Oliver asked, a hopeful look in his eyes. 

"Go ahead," he replied from the couch while remembering their various study sessions at Hogwarts which were always accompanied by music from Oliver's beloved record player. 

Looking up he found Oliver almost studying him, a contemplative look on his face that was quickly replaced by the easy grin which usually accompanied the man. "Great. I took the liberty of digging out some artists I know you like."

He wasn't sure what to make of that statement. A warm feeling blooming in his chest at the idea Oliver spent time earlier in the evening giving careful consideration to what he might like, quickly accompanied by the rising panic that perhaps Oliver expected more out of the evening. Deciding to just nod his head to avoid opening his mouth and risking his conflicted thoughts tumbling out. 

Oliver flopped down on the couch beside him, the music from the record player starting up. Listening carefully he tried to place the song and the artist. Sounding vaguely familiar, he thought a second before proudly stating, "Fleetwood Mac."

To his delight Oliver actually looked pleased with the fact he knew the artist he had chosen for them. "Very good. Now what song?"

Panicking slightly, he concentrated on the lyrics as they filled the room. Closing his eyes so he could drown out all of the unnecessary input, feeling his brow furrow slightly as he ran through a list of songs from the band. 

"All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind. Would you stay if she promised you Heaven? Will you ever win? She is like a cat in the dark and then she is the darkness."

"Rhiannon?" he took a guess, opening his eyes just a smidge. Judging by the giant grin spreading across Oliver's face he got the answer correct. The same grin was quickly gone as he placed a giant book in the man's lap along with a research question which only needed one more part to be flushed out before he could consider it complete enough to decide if it was worth looking into further. 

Having decided it wasn't really fair to ask Oliver to do a lot of heavy lifting on the research front. Considering he was helping him out with the beginning stages of his project he would need to complete as part of his application for Minister of Transportation out of the kindness of his heart. 

"Couldn't find a bigger book?" Oliver huffed irritably, opening the book to the chapter indicated on his parchment and settling in. "Feels like you could have started me out with a bigger book."

"Perhaps next time," he cast a quick glance to his face, noting the pinch of his brow was already smoothing itself out as he began to read. Shaking his head in amusement he turned his attention back to his own book. 

When he was reading it was as of the rest of the world faded away. Seconds quickly turned into hours as he engrossed himself into a variety of topics he found interesting. The rest of the room became a blur as he powered through his research question for the project. Unlike the one he assigned to Oliver his needed quite a bit of initial research to flush out the details. 

A car horn was what eventually pulled him out of his reverie, the sound piercing the room and making both men jump slightly. Slowing down his racing heart he glanced over at Oliver, a small smile forming on his face as the man's attention was again engrossed in a paragraph of one of the books. He watched him work trying to be as discreet as possible so as not to attract attention to the fact he was staring adoringly at his date slumped into the couch with a book propped open on his lap. 

A slight puff of air escaped his nose as he smiled down at his own book. 

While they worked next to each other the sound of the record player continued to fill the living room with soft background noise. Complimented by the rustling of parchment in their laps and the scratching of their quills. All combining in one magnificent symphony which brought him an inexplicable sense of overwhelming calm. 

Chancing another glance over at the man next to him he found his gaze drawn to Oliver's rather large hands, one waiting to turn to the next page while the other was poised with a quill in case a note needed to be made. The fingers wrapped around the quill were long and nimble, perfect for catching Quaffles with the grace and ease that had come to be associated with the talented keeper of Puddlemere United. Most didn't realize how difficult being a keeper truly was, certainly not after watching Oliver perfectly execute complicated catches as though it was nothing short of spectacular. Watching the words fill the parchment as Oliver made some notes from the book, ensuring he followed his fake date's system for noting the exact location in the book in case the information needed to be referenced at a later date. Something he had not specifically asked him to do this evening, realizing with a start Oliver remembered the bit of information from their days at Hogwarts. 

They both wrote the same way they lived their lives. His handwriting was neat and orderly, each letter perfectly formed and arranged in obsessively straight lines. Oliver's handwriting was sprawling, filling the piece of parchment in varied sizes with a slight slant towards the bottom of the parchment. Not messy per say just- free he supposed, that was best way to describe it. No rules, just whatever penmanship filled the page without giving it much thought at all. 

Oliver cut his eyes over to him with a smirk playing at the edges of his lips, quickly averting his gaze back to his own book lying idle in his lap. Trying to find his place again proved futile, re-reading a paragraph he was fairly certain he had already read at least three times without absorbing a single word. Not used to this level of distraction he tried to force his attention span to focus on the words which were blurring together in an infuriating attempt to prevent him from completing the task at hand. 

"You look good in Puddlemere blue," Oliver commented offhandedly, flipping the page of his book.  

"Do I?" he tried to sound distracted, focused on the words dancing across the page. As though Oliver's compliment hadn't released a flurry of butterflies in his stomach, having a difficult time controlling his suddenly labored breathing. "Brings out my freckles, eh?"

Oliver turned his body to get more comfortable, elbow resting on the back couch cushion with his head leaning against his bicep. "Yeah, blue is for sure your color. Compliments your eyes as well by the way."

"I am sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you have been obsessed with Puddlemere since you were five years old and your father and grandfather took you to your first professional game," turning a page in the book though he wasn't necessarily done with the page, he just hadn't moved in a while and was trying to appear as normal as possible. 

"You remembered?" Oliver asked, a grin of his spreading across his face. "I told you that story years ago."

Giving up the pretense he was in any way reading this book, gently placing it on the arm of the couch he turned to get a better look at Oliver. "Of course I remember. It was a sweet story and I do occasionally pay attention when you are talking to me."

"Is that so?" Oliver asked, stretching out his legs as he shifted once again. One socked foot moved precariously close to his own, tentatively touching for one second, two seconds, three seconds. Falling away from him as though it had not been an intentional act. Every nerve and cell in his body fired at the same time leaving his whole-body tingling with an unfamiliar sensation. His own foot had a mind of its own, stretching out towards Oliver as though yearning for prolonged contact. The sudden movement startled him, trying to play it off as a leg twitch he rubbed his leg with a sheepish frown on his face. 

A shy smile replaced Oliver's roguish grin from before, his socked foot creeping back closer towards his own. The contact this time was deliberate, Oliver's foot resting comfortably against his own outstretched foot. There was still a tentativeness to it, a slight blush crept across Oliver's cheeks highlighting the light spackling of freckles that always grew in number as the summer months approached. In a few months Oliver would have numerous freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, nowhere near the garish amount which plagued his own body from birth but a respectable amount. Just enough that it would catch you by surprise when you looked closely, enough that one could reasonably count them if the opportunity were to ever present itself. 

"It is," he finally replied, moving his foot against Oliver's hesitantly at first until Oliver returned the gesture. His shy smile growing in confidence as their feet brushed against each other.  

Is this ok? Oliver's eyes asked a silent question to which he nodded.

Oliver's foot moved up his shin, causing his head to buzz as his breath caught in his chest. He experienced entire snogging sessions with men that had not left him feeling even a fraction as undone as the sensation of Oliver's foot against him.

They were sitting close enough he could easily reach out and run his fingers through Oliver's curls. Normally he would be ready to crawl out of his skin, being this close to another person. Feeling the warmth of his body cozied next to him on the couch he leaned into the touch instead of away from it as his nature indicated he should do. 

It felt- not quite right, but not wrong either. Pleasant, comfortable, acceptable. That would have to do for now. Perhaps the feeling of this being right would come with time. 

"Are you itching to get back to your research?" Oliver asked, rolling his neck briefly but making no moves to resume his previous position. 

"I wouldn't call it itching, but I do know the deadline will come up faster than expected. You don't have to though," he assured him, not wanting him to feel like he couldn't relax on his own couch on a Wednesday night. 

Oliver hummed, settling back into a comfortable position as it looked like they would be there for a while longer. "Gotta watch those deadlines," Oliver replied, picking up his book again.

He noticed Oliver kept his foot leaned against his own, something he wasn't exactly upset about. He found he rather liked it. "Hmmm," he hummed back, picking up his own book as well and setting an alarm on his watch. "Another hour or so I think, then I will let you actually enjoy your evening."

Oliver didn't say anything for several long minutes, just stared at his book in contemplation. His shoulders tensing as though he was suddenly upset by something. "I am with you, Perce," Oliver finally murmured. "So, I am enjoying my evening."

Bouncing Oliver's foot with his own until the man looked up at him, he reached out his hand to pass it through Oliver's soft curls. Noting how his hand tingled as it ran through his hair and how Oliver seemed to relax a bit at his touch. "I am enjoying my evening as well Ollie," he assured him. "Mainly because I get to spend it with you. Only a miniscule amount because it involves books."

"As long as the books only account for a miniscule amount of your enjoyment," the tension dissipating from Oliver's shoulders as he moved his head slightly to give him better access to his hair.

"Only a miniscule amount," he assured again, a smile spreading across his face at the cute way Oliver practically lit up at his words. 

Back at his flat he quickly showered, normally he would linger, allowing the warm water to wash away the stress and tension from his body. It was late, and he needed to try and get a little bit of sleep. Changing into his own pajamas he climbed into bed, unsure of exactly he was going to be able to sleep after his night with Oliver.

Too much to think through.

Staring blankly at his ceiling he listened to the sound of the rain drumming on the window, the light from the streetlamps casting lengthy shadows against the walls. Turning over in bed he closed his eyes and tried to quiet his racing thoughts. The darkness only seemed to worsen the issue- bringing Oliver from a dull roar at the back of his mind to the forefront. Impossible to ignore. The beginning, middle, and end of every thought that ran through his head. Filling the room with his presence as though he was actually there. 

His warm laugh, that smile, the easy banter between the two of them, the way the mere mention of the man's name could send his heart into a fluttering storm. 

Burying his face in the pillow he attempted to push all thoughts of Oliver from his mind, focusing on steadying his breathing. 

Breathing in through his nose, holding it for a second or two, then slowly exhaling.

In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out.  

Letting his chest rise and fall, the sounds of his slowed breathing mingling with the pattering of the rain against his window. Any other night he would have already been lulled asleep by the calming effect of the rain coupled with the soft light from the streetlamps. 

Tonight, however his brain was muddled, shifting to his side he figured there was potentially only one thing that would allow him to get any sleep. 

Padding softly over towards the chair where he deposited the clothes he borrowed from Oliver earlier in the evening he picked up the sweatshirt, slipping it over his head and pulling his arms through the sleeves. 

Oliver had told him he could wear the clothes home and just give them back whenever, he reasoned to himself, no reason why he couldn't wear it just a smidge longer. 

Once again enveloped in warmth he crawled back under the covers inhaling the lingering scent of leather, sandalwood, and what might be grass. Laying in the darkness, his mind finally quieted enough he felt himself slipping slowly into sleep. 

Perhaps he was wrong.

Maybe when it came to Oliver Wood the fools were the ones who didn't rush in. 

Chapter Text

"I've gotta take a little time, a little time to think things over. I better read between the lines in case I need it when I'm older. This mountain, I must climb feels like a world upon my shoulders. Through the clouds, I see love shine. Keeps me warm as life grows colder. In my life, there's been heartache and pain. I don't know if I can face it again. Can't stop now, I've traveled so far to change this lonely life. I wanna know what love is, I want you to show me." Foreigner- I Want to Know What Love Is

If things were normal, and he hadn't proposed the slightly insane idea of asking Oliver to be his permanent date to functions, he might have just had a rather pleasant first date with that man. The problem was he wasn't even sure it was technically a date. At first, he thought perhaps- maybe it could be a date. Now, well now he wasn't so sure- the ground rules they set at the beginning of this endeavor pretty much took any chance for romance off the table. 

He supposed he could propose a change to the rules for their agreement as permadates but he had several things to figure out before he went that far. 

Settling on the couch with a mug of tea and his notes for his meeting tomorrow he stared at the coffee table where the almost finished puzzle still lay. Over the past few days, he had been hesitant to disturb the puzzle in any way. Ultimately settling on just letting it be for another day or two. In the past when he was faced with similar indecision regarding an issue in his personal life or at work, he found the best course of action was to simply sit with the problem until a clear answer presented itself.  

There were two questions that needed to be answered. How did Oliver feel about him? How did he feel about Oliver?

Neither one of them he currently had the answers to at the moment. Answering the first question would require him to speak to Oliver regarding the issue, something that he was unwilling to do for various reasons. Perhaps, if things were normal, he might be more willing to be bold, brave, spontaneous. To take a chance on the fact that anything which upset the delicate equilibrium of his and Oliver's lives might ultimately ruin a friendship. As things were currently, he thought that approach might be a bit selfish on his part. 

Sighing down at his notes he figured that he should at least try and concentrate. Oliver patiently listened to his presentation last night and assured him that he was going to blow the meeting out of the water, but he was still worried. This was an opportunity of a lifetime, something that he didn't want ruined because his mind was preoccupied with matters of the heart. Blissful ignorance of his feelings was how he preferred to spend his life and he didn't see any reason to change that now. 

A few edits to his already extensive notes and he was ready to practice his oral recitation from memory a few more times. About five minutes into his presentation a small noise outside his flat let him know that someone was about to barge in. From the giggling his bet was on either Penny or Ginny walking in at any moment. The door banged open, and his suspicions were confirmed, it was in fact Penny who strode into his flat like she owned the place along with Allie and what looked like take-away food. 

He supposed he could argue against their presence in his flat this evening, lecture them on just barging through someone's door unannounced. Deciding that asserting his right to the freedom of spending his evening alone didn't outweigh the need for him to eat he didn't utter a word against their sudden appearance. At least they brought him food if they were going to terrorize him this evening. 

"Aren't you going to ask us what we are doing here?" Penny asked, tapping her foot at him as if she was annoyed he wasn't being overly dramatic over her and her fiancé's unexpected presence in his flat or inquiring as to why they were holding bags of food. 

"I know why you're here," he said lightly, sighing as he placed his notes on the arm of the couch. "Please, have a seat. Would you both like some tea?"

Allie snorted a little, giving Penny a look that he couldn't quite read. "I will go make the tea. You two stay in here, listen to Percy talk to himself some more."

"I am rehearsing for a rather important meeting thank you very much!" he called to her retreating back, glancing at Penny as though pleading with her to make her fiancé be kind to him. All Penny did was shrug at him before flopping down on the couch, her gaze lingering on the mostly finished puzzle and the sweatshirt he was curled up in. 

Offering no explanation for either phenomenon he turned his attention back to his notes. Ignoring the rumbling of his empty stomach and the grinning best mate perched on the other end of his couch.

Allie came back into the room carrying three steaming mugs of freshly brewed tea with sugar and cream balanced precariously on a tray along with three plates for them to eat their take-away. Once again setting aside his notes he turned his attention to the two women he was apparently hosting for the evening. 

"New sweatshirt?" Penny asked, shrugging at him when his head snapped up. Holding up her hands in mock surrender as his surprise turned to frustration, eyes narrowing at her as he grumbled under his breath. "It's nice is all. Wanted to know where you got it."

"It is new, in a way," he replied, not even bothering to try and lie to his best mate. The woman helped him pick out practically half his wardrobe so she would know something like this was not what he would normally wear. Even just to lounge about the flat during his off time.  

He remained silent, ignoring the two giggling girls as they loaded up their plates with various Thai food. Aware of the fact that his blasted fair complexion was once again betraying him as his face and neck burned crimson, cursing himself for being so stupid as to wear Oliver's sweatshirt again. Though, he assumed he would be dining alone this evening so perhaps it was Penny who should be embarrassed. 

"Didn't realize you were a Puddlemere United fan," Penny teased, poking at his shoulder playfully. "Whatever will your youngest brother and little sister say? You weren't raised to turn your back on the Chudley Cannons or the Holyhead Harpies."

"I don't blame you at all Percy!" Allie grinned at him, slurping up a particularly long noodle in a way that made him cringe. "I would wear that man's clothes as well. I mean if his arms are any indication of what lies beneath the surface then that man is ripped, and I am proud of you. Get you some. Do the walk of shame. You deserve to have a romance that curls your toes with a famous Quidditch player."

Penny turned to him, ignoring her fiancé who was still slurping up noodles like she never heard of a fork before. "So, date went well?"

"It was-" pausing to find a way to describe the date that didn't give the two of them any ideas, but also didn't make him sound heartless. "Pleasant. And as for the sweatshirt- we got caught in a rainstorm and he let me borrow some comfortable clothes. Said I could give them back at a later date. That later date just hasn't quite come yet so here I am. The sweatshirt is warm and comfortable, I am planning on getting myself one as soon as possible. So, I would appreciate it if we could please just lay off the remarks regarding my clothing. Nothing happened between us, there was certainly no walk of shame. In fact, I am not even sure it was technically a date so there is that."

Penny, to her credit, just sat there listening to him ramble on. Mulling over his words as she took a few bites of her food, chewing as she pondered his rather odd behavior and defensiveness. "Never heard you describe a date as pleasant before. Now, had you said you ran out before the waiter brought the check or didn't even show up to begin with, I would know that it is in fact Percy Weasley sitting beside me. Instead of someone impersonating Percy in Oliver Wood's sweatshirt."

"Well, it is me. Sorry to disappoint you," he took a sip of his tea adding a bit more sugar since it was stronger than he normally made it. "Percy Weasley in the flesh who just happens to be in a sweatshirt belonging to Oliver. Which he is going to give back to the owner eventually."

"Yeah, yeah," Allie waved her hand dismissively as if the sweatshirt was an irrelevant issue, they kept harping on. "I want to know how the rest of the date went. You said nothing happened, but something had to of happened for you to be turning crimson and be so defensive about the subject."

Both women turned to him, waiting for his reply. He decided that he wasn't going to indulge them- not play their little game. Setting his lips in a thin line he arched his eyebrows at them. "Dinner was good, we went to a pub near Oliver's flat. Went back to his flat afterwards to talk and work on some stuff. Our feet did briefly brush against each other when we were sitting on the couch which was surprisingly not horrible," he supplied, taking another sip of his tea to hide the fact that a grin was threatening to make its appearance at the memory of his rather lovely evening with Oliver.

The two of them looked at each other in utter confusion, their brows knitting together as they turned to stare at him again. "Oh," Allie replied, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Your feet brushed against each other? My, my. Hope you both used protection."

Glaring at Allie as she just continued to grin, he hoped that perhaps his best mate would come to his defense. The fact that he let Oliver touch him at all was a small miracle. 

"Did you get tingles?" Penny practically bounced with excitement, tucking her feet under her as she stared at him while clapping her hands together. He felt his brain and all functions associated with life shut down simultaneously, sitting there gaping at Penny as her bouncing increased in intensity. Slowly the synapses in his brain started firing again, just long enough to open and close his mouth at her, completely at a loss for words. 

Of all the- how could she possibly know that? He had to deny. Deny, deny, deny. Deny that he had any feelings for Oliver Wood whatsoever and refute her assumption that he got tingles at any point last night. 

"He got tingles!" Allie practically jumped out of the chair she was lounging in. "He so got the tingles! Oh, I can't- I can't! Hell has officially frozen over!" 

"Please!" he held up a hand to stop their collective screaming and screeching. The other hand rubbed the bridge of his nose as he fought off the impending headache beginning to form behind his eyes. "No tingles. Just a brief brush of our feet as we worked on the research needed for my independent project."

Penny's bouncing resumed in earnest as he buried his face in his hands with a loud groan. "Wait a minute!" Penny exclaimed, her mouth falling open. "Oliver Wood, the boy who only knew where the library was because he would come visit you and stare adoringly at your head when you weren't looking, voluntarily did research on subjects which had nothing to do with Quidditch?"

Staring up at her in confusion he shook his head. "What are you talking about? Oliver never stared at me during our time at Hogwarts."

"Not when you were looking, he didn't," Penny answered smoothly, stealing a glance over at Allie who nodded in return as if this was a topic of conversation the two of them covered extensively in the past. "He did stare though, a lot. Like a lot, all the time he stared. When you were studying in the library and he was pretending to work on his homework or his Quidditch plays, during Quidditch games, while in the Great Hall, and especially during class. He would just watch you with this small smile on his face and was always trying to get your attention. It was cute to watch him paw at you until you acknowledged his existence. He is actually quite intelligent, and I am not entirely sure that he needed your help with his academics half as much as he asked for it."

"That is just- I can't even-" he sputtered out, drawing himself up on the couch as he stared at his best mate who was spewing widely inaccurate and insane stories. "You could write for Witch Weekly or The Quibbler with theories like those. All of which have no thread of truth in them."

Yes, Oliver had asked him for help during their lessons and with his homework. On occasion, not a lot. Only because he received twelve OWLS with perfect scores of Outstanding in all of them and the two of them were roommates. There was certainly no staring involved. 

Maybe on his end but not where Oliver was concerned. 

"The real question to ask is did Oliver flirt with you last night?" Allie stared at him, waiting for a response. 

He glared at her again for what felt like the one hundredth time that evening, puffing out his chest in a way that he used to do when he wanted to be taken seriously as a prefect or as head boy. "Oliver flirts with everyone. He is quite charming."

Having no idea if that was true or not. The flirting part-not the charming part. Oliver was actually quite charming and easy to get along with, the flirting part he wasn't so sure about. Perhaps he did flirt with people, he hadn't really had enough interactions with him to gather that sort of data. Something to consider, perhaps if he could deduce if Oliver flirted with just him or as a universal rule then he could answer the question of how the man felt about him. 

"He is charming," Penny grinned at him, in a way that reminded him of when she would accompany him to Quidditch matches and mercilessly tease him for watching the Gryffindor goal hoops far more than the rest of the pitch. Not believing for a second that it was simply because he wanted to ensure Oliver's safety. "Roger Davies would go on rants in the Ravenclaw common room about the boy. He wanted to hate the Gryffindor Quidditch captain so badly, but it was hard to find something to actually not like about him. Something that you seem to be struggling with as well my friend."

"Well- that's enough for tonight I think," he pulled out his notes and held them in front of him so Penny could take them. "If you have some time, I would like to run my presentation by you. I think that it is almost perfect, but I want your expert opinion."

Friday morning came earlier than he wanted to, the impending meeting with Mr. Crawford looming in the distance casting a shadow over his entire day. It was an odd feeling. He was both dreading the meeting and looking forward to it at the same time. With each passing second the two emotions warred with each other leaving him utterly exhausted and in need of a second, very strong, cup of coffee by the time he reached his office at the Ministry. 

Settling down in his cubicle he pulled out a report that he was in the process of making final edits to, sipping on the remnants of his first cup of coffee. Determinedly pushing all thoughts of broomstick regulations and Quidditch players far from his mind as he glanced over his report on the need for tighter regulations regarding who could authorize floo network access to prevent potential security issues. 

He was so engrossed in meticulously checking his work that he didn't hear the tapping of heels on the marble floor, the several coughs to gain his attention, nor the quiet giggling of those in the cubicles surrounding him. 

"Mr. Weasley?" came the soft voice of the department's secretary from right beside him.

"Yes, Ms. Sinclair?" he asked, looking up briefly to find that she was standing before him with a very wide grin and a large bouquet of flowers that seemed to have attracted the attention of every woman in his department who were all watching intently and hanging onto every word. 

Holding out the gorgeous bouquet of flowers the grin on Ms. Sinclair's face continued to grow as she patiently waited for him to take the vase from her. "These were delivered here this morning by a rather handsome delivery man if you don't mind me saying. He left a note as well. Such a sweet gesture," Sinclair gushed, earning her nods from several of the women milling around. "So nice to know that not all Quidditch players or men for that matter are self-absorbed arseholes. There are still some men who believe in romance left in this world," the last bit sounded a little wistful with some hints of bitterness in her voice, having recently gone through a rather nasty breakup he figured that perhaps she wasn't quite recovered. 

Opening up the attached note a small smile tug at the corners of his lips as he read the sweet sentiments. His chest constricting slightly before letting a pleasant warmth flow throughout his body. 

Perce,

Hope you have a wonderful day at work. Call me later to tell me all about it. 

-Oliver

He was thankful that Oliver had been brief with his note, not giving away too much information. While his meeting with Mr. Crawford wasn't necessarily a secret, he hadn't exactly been vocal about it either. Certainly, had not made it known that he was going to be putting his name in for consideration to take Mr. Quinn's position once he retired. 

"Well don't leave us all hanging." "What does the note say?" "Is it from that gorgeous man who you brought to the party last week?" "Of course it is, you nitwit! That is Percy's boyfriend. Who else would be sending him flowers?" "I wish a man who looked like Oliver Wood would send me flowers at work on a random Friday." "I have a husband of ten years who doesn't even do something that sweet. The best I get is a card on our anniversary and that is only after I remind the man about it in advance for several weeks." "Is it an anniversary for the two of you?" "I remember those days, celebrating anniversaries of how many months you have been dating each other. Never lasts, eventually all of that romance just fades away." "Oh, stop it you cynics! Come on Percy, tell us all what the card says. We are dying over here!"

Sitting in his desk chair he stared at his flowers, inhaling their lovely aroma while listening to the chatter of the entourage currently gathered around his desk. "No anniversary," he stated while working very hard to keep his face neutral, though he knew that his cheeks were betraying him. "The flowers are in fact from Oliver and the note says, 'hope you have a wonderful day at work. Call me later to tell me all about it.'"

A chorus of delighted squeals and sighs of longing came from the people gathered around his desk. Normally he hated being the center of attention, finding that he actually didn't mind having everyone gush over how romantic and adorable his fake date was. 

It was all rather sweet and endearing to be given flowers because he was nervous about an important meeting at work and knowing that once he got back to his flat there would be an eager set of ears ready to hear the details as well as his thoughts on the matter. Something that he was unused to experiencing but could certainly get used to. 

Admiring the bouquet of flowers, he pulled out the knowledge acquired from seven years of Herbology lessons. Identifying each flower in the lovely arrangement: Honeysuckle, clematis, gardenia, and a few fern leaves for some greenery to fill in. 

Flowers had meaning. 

Something that Oliver would know, having made it to NEWT level Herbology and scored well on his exams. The question was, did he pick out the bouquet because of the meaning of the flowers or did he just pick one that he thought was pretty? 

If Oliver had picked the bouquet for the hidden meaning, then perhaps he was close to getting his answer to the question of how the man truly felt about him. 

Nearly one week had passed without another Daily Prophet article showcasing his fake relationship with Oliver or pictures of the two of them being plastered all over the front page. A phenomenon that he was sure was due more to the Ministry's influence than because Rita Skeeter had run out of material or anonymous sources who were willing to spill the details. Witch Weekly on the other hand was still running with the story according to what Penny told him earlier in the week. Apparently the two of them were madly in love with each other and already thinking about moving in together, a proposal within the year was imminent. All of this was news to him and actually quite funny when he thought about it. There were witches and wizards all over Great Britain and Ireland who believed that the captain of Puddlemere United was head over heels in love with some red headed Ministry worker. 

Something that in his mind was simply ridiculous. According to Oliver when they spoke on the phone last night, he bought the flowers that he thought looked the nicest. Not that he had pried very much, an offhanded comment about how pretty they were and a sincere thank you. The fact that he was almost relieved in a way that the flowers weren't some coded message got him a little bit closer towards answering the question of how he felt about Oliver. Though, the whole thing was still complicated and almost laughable at how much of his time he spent yesterday afternoon ensuring that he remembered the flowers correctly and over-analyzing every little aspect of the gesture. 

The fact that they were just an arrangement that Oliver thought looked nice meant things could stay the same, no need for any grand gestures on either of their parts or uncomfortable conversations regarding feelings. An image floated to the surface of his brain from some movie Penny made him watch where the two love interests confessed their feelings in some cringy way that would certainly never happen in real life. Replacing the faces of the actors with the faces of himself and Oliver left him feeling unsettled- none of that felt right. Proclamations of intense feelings was not something either of them would be doing anytime soon.  

Chuckling to himself at the mere thought, he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Currently sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living room wrapping Teddy’s present. It was the boy’s third birthday party this afternoon at the Burrow. Even though Remus and Sirius had their own place all of Teddy’s birthday parties were always held at the Burrow. Probably because of the fact that Molly Weasley would gladly take care of all the organizing and planning details so they could just relax and enjoy their son’s birthday. Every year the party served as a welcome distraction as May loomed closer, threatening to bring reminders of events that most would prefer to never think of again. 

He had just finished tying the bow on the present when his alarm rang letting him know that someone was accessing his floo network. Oliver stepped out of the fireplace looking a little tired from his early morning practice session, but otherwise put together. His hair was still slightly damp from his recent shower, wearing a nice pair of jeans and button-down shirt. Holding out an unwrapped toy he gave a sheepish smile. “Help a mate out?”

“I already wrapped mine,” he quipped, holding up the perfectly wrapped present with a smug smirk plastered across his face. “You are on your own.”

Oliver flopped down on the couch kicking his shoes off and stretching his long legs out with his head resting on his arms. “Come on Percy,” he whined, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout that was rather adorable as he stared at him with those gorgeous brown eyes. “You know that I am absolute rubbish at wrapping. Your mum already doesn’t like me much. Just make the present all pretty and posh like yours won’t ya?”

He sighed with a half-hearted eye roll, holding out his hands in defeat. Oliver tossed the present over to him which he caught easily. “Could have been a chaser,” closing his eyes and settling further into the couch, making himself completely at home in the living room. “If you would have let me train you like I wanted during our time as Hogwarts then you could easily have been a reserve.”

“Reserve!” he scoffed indignantly, while he never had any desire to play Quidditch in school he was surely suited for something besides just the reserve team. He was a Weasley after all, Quidditch was practically in his blood.

“Well, I already had three superb chasers," Oliver murmured, eyes still closed as his breathing started to slow down a bit. "Nothing wrong with reserve.”

He didn’t say anything in reply to that comment, disagreeing with the statement would not be a wise move. Especially considering that Oliver spent the first year of his professional career on a reserve team, something that was quite common for a player fresh out of school. Even though Oliver understood all of that he knew how hard it had been on him during that year to bide his time patiently while waiting for his shot at making the starting lineup for Puddlemere United. 

Concentrating on wrapping Oliver’s present for him gave him something to focus on that wasn't the rather good-looking man stretched out on his couch.  

"What do you think?" he asked, holding up the freshly wrapped present, complete with perfectly tied bow, to be met with no answer. It seemed as if Oliver was a bit more tired than he realized because currently he was sound asleep. Frowning slightly as he watched his chest rise and fall slowly, he wondered if perhaps there was more than just him being tired from a grueling practice. He couldn't really explain it other than Oliver just seemed a bit- off today. Not quite himself. Hoping that he wasn't coming down with something this close to his first game as captain. 

Inching closer, he wasn't sure what the protocol was here. Technically this counted as a family function where a date was required, however he had not given Oliver a week's notice meaning that he didn't necessarily have to go. While he certainly couldn't just go to the birthday party and leave Oliver to his nap without at least letting him know his plans, he didn't want to wake him up and demand that he accompany him either. 

A delicate balance would have to be struck in this situation. Hesitantly sitting down on the edge of the couch he gently shook Oliver's shoulder to be met with no response. Reaching his hand back out he shook Oliver's shoulder a little more roughly. "Hey Ollie," he whispered, giving the man another small shake. "Can you wake up for a minute?"

This time there was movement and a little bit of grumbling from Oliver as he shifted his shoulder further away from the offending hand shaking it. Starting to worry a little bit he let his hand move from the man's shoulder to his forehead where he felt for a fever, a little warm but not concerningly so. Oliver gave a small moan as his cold hand lay against his forehead, followed by something unintelligible which he didn't quite catch.

"Ol?" he tried again, his hand stroking Oliver's hair, the slight tingle on his fingertips making an appearance as they moved through his soft curls. "If you aren't feeling well today you don't have to go. I can make sure you get back to your flat ok and give your regards to my family. I will only stay for an hour or so, long enough to make my mother happy, then I can stop back by with some soup or something for you."

Opening one eye, Oliver stared up at him with an expression that reminded him of one he often wore whenever he was tackling a rather difficult problem at work. Panicking slightly that perhaps he shouldn't have offered to bring soup, or take care of him in any way, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and withdrew himself from Oliver's proximity. Putting some space between the two of them as he grew nervous at being watched so intently. "I'm fine. Just a long practice is all. Had to be at the stadium at four in the morning and the trainers made me run the full conditioning protocol before I ever sat my weary arse on a broom."

"Ah. So- no soup then," he replied, wincing at how stupid he sounded even to himself. The warm chuckle from Oliver made him fidget with his hands, no longer quite knowing what to do with them. Running them through Oliver's hair seemed suddenly too intimate and he wasn't sure the man wanted to be touched at the moment. 

"I like soup," Oliver shrugged, sitting up a little and trying to hide just how sore his muscles were. He could only imagine that his body was screaming in protest at every little movement, if it were him, he would put himself on bedrest for at least a week to give his body ample time to recover. Oliver had no such option. "Vegetable is my favorite followed very closely by the classic chicken noodle."

Remaining silent for a moment he continued to stare down at his hands, filing away Oliver's favorite types of soup into his memory before he could think twice about it. In this moment it seemed like important information, the sort of thing that he might need to recall at a later date. "My mum makes a fantastic minestrone," he supplied, more to fill the silence than because he truly believed that Oliver cared which types of soup he fancied. "Two-way tie between tomato soup and French onion."

"Noted," Oliver gave him a small smile that did wonders to dissipate the previous awkwardness. "All three fine choices for soup. Especially tomato soup when there is grilled cheese involved."

The shift in the overall mood of the room was welcome, allowing a small smile to spread across his face as well as he nodded his head in contemplation. "You have excellent culinary taste," glancing down at his watch he suppressed a sigh. Were it up to him he would owl his present to Teddy and just stay on the couch with Oliver. "I suppose that we should get going if we don't want to be late."

Patting Oliver lightly on the knee he got up to retrieve the presents that he left on the other side of the room, turning back around to find Oliver grinning at him while holding up the last piece of the puzzle. "I thought I might let you do the honors. Seemed as if you needed my help to finish up the last little bit."

"I have been busy," he insisted with a shrug, holding out Oliver's present for him to take. "If you remember I had a rather important meeting yesterday that I was busy preparing for. No time to worry with unfinished puzzles."

Oliver just hummed, still holding out the puzzle piece as if he was insisting that he do the honors. "I do remember. Seems as if you have some time now. Why don't you just slide that last piece right on in?"

Sighing heavily, he took the puzzle piece, allowing their fingers to touch for just a second to check something. The familiar tingle returned as he felt Oliver's calluses against his skin and his stomach erupted into a chorus of butterflies. 

Interesting, he thought. Sliding the puzzle piece into place while watching Oliver out of the corner of his eye. Any slight sign that perhaps his fingertips also tingled when they brushed or any indication that he felt anything at all by his mere presence. The grin never faltered; the only change was a slight increase in the warmth reflected in his eyes as he watched him survey the now completed puzzle. "Happy now?" he asked, shifting the present to his other arm to hide how nervous he felt. 

"Ecstatic," Oliver replied, standing up from the couch and stretching his arms above his head. "We will have to start another one when you aren't too busy to finish it or when we both have several hours to finish it together."

Another one?

Interesting.   

"I suppose we should use the floo network," he suggested, turning to look at Oliver who was still stretching after his unexpected nap. Twisting himself into at an odd angle that he was fairly certain would land him in St. Mungos should he have attempted a similar position. One particular position caused his shirt to ride up slightly, exposing his stomach and that line of hair he glimpsed last weekend. Diverting his eyes before he could give the toned stomach much thought and cause his ears and neck to betray the fact that he was feeling flustered at the moment. 

"Whatever you think is best future Minister of Transportation Weasley," Oliver grinned at him, causing a bloom of warmth to emanate from his chest. Were it anyone else that statement would have been sarcastic, a dig at his career aspirations. Oliver meant every word; it was his little way of letting him know that he was proud of and believed in him. 

Now that Oliver was done with his stretching, he let his eyes settle on the man once again, noting the wince as he bent down to retrieve the present laying on the floor in front of him. Standing back up with another wince that he was trying to play off as if it was no big deal. "You sure you're ok? My family will understand if you just need to have a lie down-" unsure of why he felt so protective over Oliver at the moment, hoping that it didn't come off as sounding like he didn't want the man to come with him today. The exact opposite was true, he was dreading the day that he would have to face his family without Oliver's comforting presence. He just didn't want Oliver to overdo it and end up either hurt or sick before his big Quidditch match.

Thankfully Oliver didn't seem to mind his worrying. Rolling his eyes good-naturedly he just grinned at him. "As much as I appreciate your touching concern for my well-being it is unnecessary. I am one long soak in the tub and a nice nap away from being good as new. No need to fret over it."

"All right," he scoffed, pulling the present close to him as he raised his eyebrows. "Don't say that I didn't give you plenty of opportunities to avoid my family today. I can't be blamed if you don't have a good time."

Oliver's grin widened as he also raised one eyebrow. "Noted. You won't hear one word of complaint from me today," crossing his heart with one finger he couldn't help but chuckle at him. "I will be on my best behavior. Practically a saint walking around the Burrow as your mother hurls insults in my general direction. I won't respond in kind, since I am there on my free will and had ample opportunity to back out as you so shrewdly pointed out."

"Come on you nut job," hiding a grimace of his own as he stepped into the fireplace to use the floo network. While he appreciated the nearly instantaneous methods of travel that wizards and witches utilized, he never could get over the feeling that space and time were twisting in ways they were never quite meant to as his body smushed together one minute before it felt like every single bone was being pulled into different directions the next minute. 

Throwing down the floo powder he clearly stated, "The Burrow," before the flames engulfed him and his body was hurled through the magical lines that connected all magical households along the floo network. 

Stumbling out of the fireplace he looked around to find that he was alone in the living room of the Burrow. Faint voices let him know that some of the family was in the kitchen while the others seemed to be in the back garden from the sounds of the laughter drifting in through the open windows. Brushing himself off while waiting for Oliver to appear he steeled himself for his afternoon of dealing with his family. While his father said in his memo that he wanted to talk, to apologize in person, he wasn't so sure. The last "apology" he received from his father ended with them getting into yet another fight and his mother breaking down in tears. Not exactly something that he cared to repeat. 

Oliver appeared a few seconds later, setting down his gift to brush the soot off his shoulders. Rubbing at his eyes which were still thick with sleep, ending up transferring some lingering soot on his hands to his face. Unaware of that fact he stretched his arms over his head before looking at him curiously and cocking his head to the side. "What?" Oliver grinned at him, swiping at his face which did nothing but spread the soot across the other side of his cheek.  

For a reason that he couldn't quite explain he walked over to him and gently wiped the man's nose and cheeks with the sleeve of his robe. They blinked in surprise at each other before he cleared his throat, pushing his glasses back up into their normal position as he took a small step backwards. "I um- I know what you are going to say but-"

Cutting him off, Oliver folded his arms across his chest. Gazing intently at him with a small smile. "Then don't say it. I will be fine, just a rough practice while preparing to play the Holyhead Harpies. If you want to blame someone then I would look at your sister, she is a force to be reckoned with on the Quidditch pitch and the current cause of my distress. I can make it through one energetic toddler's birthday party."

The pattering of tiny feet was the only warning either of them had before Teddy came barreling into the room, running straight for Oliver's legs where he firmly attached himself with shrieks of delighted laughter. “Ollie!” Teddy cried, immediately holding up his chubby little hands to demand to be picked up. Something which Oliver gladly obliged, pretending to struggle as he lifted Teddy. His overdramatic groans and protests that Teddy was getting to be too big of a boy to get picked up anymore brought more peals of laughter and a cheeky grin from the little boy in his arms.

He found himself smiling just a little. The way that Teddy said Oliver’s name came out more like ‘Owie’ and it was cute to see his friend be utterly wrapped around a toddler’s finger. 

“Such a big Teddy bear!” Oliver held the wiggling newly three-year-old in his arms. 

“Fly! Fly!” Teddy yelled, pointing to the garden to indicate exactly what he wanted while squirming in Oliver's grasp. 

“Oliver!” he admonished, frowning slightly at the man who had a little boy attempting to hang from his neck. “You mean to tell me that you have taken a small child flying on a standard broomstick made for adults? Children should not be on junior broomsticks until they are at least six years old and should not fly on a standard broom until they are eleven years old and only under intense supervision.”

Oliver didn’t even have the decency look fazed at all, just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly while he bounced Teddy on his hip. “It's not like I put the kid on the broom by himself and let him jet off into the sunset. I make sure he is secure and besides we only fly like a few feet off the ground and look at his face, he loves it! He’s a natural I tell you! Might even be better than I was at his age if I am being honest. Chaser or a keeper for sure.”

His friend was smiling down at a beaming Teddy who was still pointing towards the back garden as he demands for Oliver to take him flying continued to increase in volume. 

“What?” Harry asked in mock shock, walking into the room hand in hand with Ginny who waved at the two of them with her free hand. “You have taken too many bludgers to the head mate! That boy is a seeker in the making!”

“Dream on Potter,” Oliver scoffed, handing over a squirming toddler to his godfather. "Look at these little hands," holding up one of Teddy's chubby hands as evidence, Harry ignored Oliver's protests rolling his eyes as he struggled with Teddy who wanted to be in the garden flying about instead of stuck inside listening to them talk. "That is the hand of a keeper if I ever saw one. It will be perfect for catching Quaffles with ease."

He was looking from Oliver to Harry with his mouth open as the two of them argued over what position Teddy would end up playing when he was old enough to make the house team. The lack of concern that Teddy was requesting to go flying on a broomstick that was not designed for children and well before the recommended minimum age was enough to send his blood pressure skyrocketing. Thinking through every possible scenario that could end with them in St. Mungos and the enormous amount of paperwork that he would have to file on the incident; not to mention explaining how his 'nephew' managed to have a broomstick related injury a mere twenty-four hours after his rather successful meeting with Mr. Crawford.

For Teddy to immediately request for Oliver to take him flying meant this was a regular occurrence between the two of them. Apparently, Harry, and more shockingly his own sister, were as guilty as Oliver was of taking Teddy for a little joyride on their death trap of a broomstick.

Oliver was intently studying his face, rolling his eyes at his stern yet bewhildered expression. “Oh unclench!” 

Putting one hand on his hip he started wagging his finger at his permadate. “I will have you know that broomstick related accidents account for over-”

“What smells so good?” Oliver interrupted his oncoming rant, turning on his heel to walk into the kitchen. He ruffled both Teddy and Harry’s hair as he passed them earning him a gleeful shriek from Teddy, who reached out his hands with further demands to go flying, and a half-hearted glare from Harry. Ginny shrugged her shoulders as she led Harry by the arm into the kitchen as well where he could hear Teddy yelling “Ollie! Fly!” over and over again. With each passing moment the kid’s insistence about being on a broom was growing louder and shriller. 

Alone in the living room he blinked his eyes slowly, standing there in utter shock. The lack of concern for broomstick safety in this house was utterly appalling.  

Chapter Text

"Everything shines but leaves me empty still and I'll, I'll burn this lonely house down. If you run to me. If you run to me. And I'll stay with you the walls will fall before we do. So, take my hand now we'll run forever. I can feel the storm inside you. I'll stay with you. And I'm fooled by my own desires. I twist my fate just to feel you. But you, you turn me toward the light and you're one with me. Will you run with me?" Goo Goo Dolls- Stay With You

By the time he shuffled into the kitchen as well he found Teddy was having a complete meltdown in Harry’s arms. His wails filled the room as tears continuously rolled down his rouged cheeks. Harry finally passed the sobbing boy to Oliver who bounced him on his hip again, brightening briefly when he realized who was holding him now. “Ollie fly?” the little boy sniffled with his big newly brown eyes and changing his hair color from blue to brown in an effort to look more like Oliver and tug at his heart a little to get what he wanted.

“The Tedster has spoken,” Oliver shrugged with an affectionate look at the toddler as he wiped away the boy’s tears with the sleeve of his robe. “He is a lad after my own heart. He insists on having a nice little F-L-Y before the C-A-K-E.” 

“Lunch will still be about an hour or so,” Remus said from where he was standing near the stove with Sirius and his mother. “There is time for a brief fly to satisfy his need to soar with the wind.”

Sirius walked over to his son, ruffling his hair and smiling affectionately at the little boy whose bottom lip was still trembling in a rather pitiful way. "Are you going to have fun flying with Ollie, little one?"

Teddy's lip immediately stopped quivering as he bellowed, “Fly!” his tears long forgotten now that he was getting exactly what he wanted. 

Oliver looked from Teddy, who was squirming in his arms and tugging on his flying buddy's robes to try and get him to move from where he was currently standing, to him with a conflicted look on his face. "You coming Perce?"

He glanced over at his mother, the only indication she even knew her son and his date were here was the increase in the amount of noise she made as she finished up cooking everyone's lunch. "In a minute," he said brightly, shooing Oliver, Harry, and Ginny out of the kitchen so they could get Teddy on a broomstick and stop his shrill cries to fly. "Not too high!" he called after their retreating forms as Oliver paused again in the doorway leading out into the garden with one last look back at him silently wishing him luck with whatever he was about to do.

Turning back to face those left in the kitchen he found the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach odd. While he never had a great relationship with anyone in his family- he and his mother had always been somewhat close, at least they were before the war. During his childhood she relied on him to help her with the daily running of the household, always bragged that he was the one Weasley she never had to worry about. The one who always did as he was asked without complaint and never gave her a moment of trouble during his childhood or while at Hogwarts. Always telling his unruly siblings to 'take a page out of Percy's book,' and 'to be more like your older brother.'  

Now- well now he was standing in the kitchen of his childhood home while the silence filled the room in a way that even Teddy's earlier shrieks had been unable to. He could simply walk out of the room and say nothing, pretend as if he hadn't noticed her slight against him by refusing to acknowledge his existence. Deciding against that, he figured the best way forward was simply to confront the problem head on. He had grown tired of apologizing for who he was and stifling himself to avoid arguments with his parents. If his mother had a problem with him being gay or for standing up for himself and Oliver last weekend, then he was going to force her to admit it. 

Clearing his throat, he looked up at his mother who continued to tend to her pots as everyone left in the kitchen stood around awkwardly due to the mounting tension. "Good afternoon mother," he greeted solemnly, his arms starting to ache from holding both his and Oliver's presents for Teddy. "Where should I put the presents?"

His mother didn't answer him immediately, banging around her pots and pans for a minute before replying with a coldness normally reserved for unwanted house guests rather than her formerly beloved golden child. "Outside. Where the rest of the presents are from the people who bothered to get here earlier in the day."

Finding that statement a bit unfair he silently debated whether he should respond, his mother would not have been pleased whether Oliver was here or not. If the man hadn't come due to work obligations, then his mother would surely have something to say about that, claiming Oliver didn't value family functions or some other such nonsense. As it were, Oliver was here, without having received any sort of apology from either his mother or his father yet was still being simply lovely. 

"Come on," Remus cut him off as his mouth opened to say something snarky to his mother's biting remark, a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. Something he supposed he should be grateful for; it would be a shame if he had to walk out before getting to try any of his mother's cake. While she might be a bit passive aggressive, the woman excelled at baking, and he was looking forward to some home-made dessert. "We will show you where the present table is. Teddy has already amassed quite a little horde for himself."

Sirius turned to briefly glare at Mrs. Weasley's back as she pretended as if she hadn't just said something to try and start an argument with her son. Giving him a sad sort of smile as though he understood what he was going through currently, given what he knew of the man's childhood perhaps he did. "Come along. Teddy likes an audience to watch him fly, he especially loves it when you clap for him as though he is actually controlling the broom."

He sighed heavily, one last glance at his still silent mother before following the two men out into the garden where the rest of the family was already waiting for lunch. Depositing the two presents on top of the already large mound of boxes piled onto a table he turned to find where Oliver had run off to. It didn't take long to locate the man who was sitting on a broom, his feet still firmly on the ground, with Teddy sitting in front of him. Having what looked like a rather firm chat with the toddler, from what he caught of the conversation his date was giving the boy a reminder that he had to stay sitting while on the broom and listen to him if he wanted to go flying today. Teddy was nodding his head with a serious look on his face which made him chuckle softly, the look was more suited for a grown man on his way to work than a toddler who was about to go for a nice afternoon fly. 

Harry and Ginny were overseeing the safety briefing by standing on either side of Oliver, nodding along to drive home the point to Teddy that he had to listen to the adults if he didn't want to lose his flying privileges. 

The fact that Oliver hadn't just deposited Teddy on a broom and taken off made him feel slightly better about this endeavor, not great but not quite as panicked as he had been before. 

He ended up standing by Charlie, Tonks, Hermione, and Andromeda who were off to the side watching the flying lesson. They welcomed him with warm smiles, exchanging courteous greetings with each other. The twins were a few feet away from them with their heads together, deep into conversation which almost never ended well for anyone. Angelina's team had a game against the Chudley Cannons today which meant no one was here to keep George and therefore Fred in check. 

Ron and Mona were sitting in two of the lawn chairs set up for guests, watching Teddy with grins plastered across their faces. As Oliver hovered, his toes just barely above the tops of the grass, he slowly started to fly in a circle, much to the delight of Teddy who was thrilled to finally be moving. Mona leaned over to Ron, whispering something to him while pointing at Teddy who was clapping his hands. From the look of panic that flashed across Ron's face he could only imagine what his girlfriend was whispering to him. 

Bill and Fleur were also sitting in the lawn chairs. Bill was kicked back with eyes closed, just enjoying the unseasonably warm spring day. Fleur was smiling in a motherly way at Teddy while patting her hands against her stomach which he found rather odd. Wondering for a second if perhaps there would be a second grandchild added to the growing Weasley family.  

"Are the adults looking?" Oliver asked Harry, who glanced around the yard as if taking note of who was standing around and watching them. 

Shaking his head at Oliver, Harry patted him on the shoulder with a warm chuckle. "I hate to break it to you mate, but you are the adult in this situation."

"That is debatable," Oliver grinned at Harry and Ginny who looked at each other before shaking with laughter, increasing the height of the broom by a few meters which delighted Teddy. His shoulders tightened back up as he tried to catch Oliver's gaze so he could inquire as to what exactly was about to happen. "Ready Tedster? We are going to go fast now."

"Fast, fast, fast!" Teddy chanted, leaning forward to grip his little hands around the broom before Oliver shot forward. Granted the speed was nowhere near the 200 kilometers/hour in less than ten seconds that his model of broomstick was capable of, but still far too fast in his opinion for a small child. 

His mouth tightened into a thin line as his eyebrows knit together, silently reminding himself that Oliver did this for a living. The man spent over eight hours most days either practicing his skills in the air or coming up with ways to increase his proficiency on a broom. He was by no means an amateur and therefore he really shouldn't worry so much. However, worrying was all he could do. Statistics on the number of broomstick related injuries which ended with a trip to St. Mungo's flew through his head as he watched Teddy's eyes light up as though he was moving through the air at a breakneck speed. Brooms were dangerous, despite how much time someone spent sitting atop one. 

Tonks stifled a laugh, grinning at him from behind her hand. "You look like you're in excruciating pain at the moment." 

"You will have to excuse my little brother," Charlie gave him a teasing look, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "He is just imagining a broomstick related catastrophe befalling one of us this afternoon. It is sort of his job; he is probably counting the number of regulations that Oliver is currently breaking."

Grumbling under his breath at his brother, he folded his arms across his stomach. "At least seven," he huffed irritably, staring straight ahead as the people around him let out soft chuckles at his obvious struggle to not rush forward as the unofficial broomstick safety enforcer. 

Tonks rubbed her chin in thought, nodding her head solemnly. "Seven. Thought it would be... more I supposed."

"I stopped counting at seven," he admitted with a sigh.

"I mean it is Oliver," Tonks let out a loud laugh, elbowing her mum and Charlie who nodded along with her. "That idiot is constantly coming up with new and creative ways to break the regulations surrounding proper broomstick use," seeing his eyes widen in shock Tonks started to immediately backpedal on her previous statement as Charlie rolled his eyes at his best mate. "I mean- he would NEVER do anything stupid with Teddy on the broom with him. He loves that kid, does great with him. When Teddy learned his Ollie was coming to his birthday party that was all he could babble on about. You should have heard him before you both got here-"

Thankfully Andromeda cut her daughter's rambling off gently with a fond look and hand on her shoulder. "I think he gets your point dear," turning to him with a small smile. "Oliver is a lovely boy and he is very good with Teddy. Has the patience of a saint for whatever game that little one has decided the two of them are going to play."

Charlie came to stand by him, placing his hands on his shoulders with a small shake that was not uncommon amongst the Weasley siblings. Sort of a way to show affection which didn't require any words or prolonged physical contact, something all of his siblings knew made his skin crawl. "The adults are here now," Charlie gave a soft chuckle as Oliver angled the broom for a small dive to lower him and Teddy back down to a less terrifying height. While the dive was insanely smooth it still made his stomach drop, choosing to focus on his parents who just walked out into the garden carrying various plates and other serving ware. Charlie gently led him towards the lawn chairs and therefore further away from his parents who were desperately trying to avoid any eye contact with him. Depositing him in one of the chairs his older brother sat down next to him, folding his hands across his stomach as if he had no intention of leaving any time soon. 

Settling himself into one of the chairs a gust of wind swept by him, bringing with it a welcome breeze and the sound of Teddy's laughter. Calling out to his two fathers to watch him as he flew around the back garden. Remus and Sirius were more than eager to comply with their son's request, beaming smiles on their faces as they watched Teddy clap his hands and steer the broom. The steering essentially consisted of him leaning forward to put his hands on the handle then clapping his hands excitedly when Oliver moved the broom either to the left or to the right. 

His chest constricted again as he watched Oliver interact with the small boy who was simply enamored with his fake date. Each time Oliver smiled down at Teddy he felt that smile warm him from across the yard. 

Looking around the garden he found his gaze finally met his father's, whose eyes widened in shock as though he was somehow surprised to see his third eldest son at the birthday party. Perhaps he was, there was the distinct possibility he could have opted to not show up today. 

His head and his heart were currently at war with each other. He hadn't forgotten what was said on Sunday, about his sexuality or about his ambitions within the Ministry. There was nothing he could do to undo what had been said between himself and his father all those years ago or the decisions made as a result of that fight. All he could hope was that after all this time his parents could have forgiven him, truly forgiven him. Not just pretty words which held no weight when it came time to follow through with their promises of putting everything in the past and moving forward with their lives.  

He thought they were making progress, albeit slow and certainly not without its setbacks- but progress none the less. Now it seemed as if they had almost gone backwards, it was as bad if not worse in some ways than directly after the war. When he had been desperately seeking his parents' and his family's forgiveness for his actions while being met with cold indifference and at times hostility.

The one difference was this time he had nothing to apologize for, which in his experience was going to make this reconciliation much harder. Leaving him wondering if this was how it was always going to be between him and his parents from now on- this thing that sat between them and refused to let them make progress towards finally rebuilding their trust in each other. 

He and his father locked gazes from across the garden for a few seconds more before he blinked and looked down at his hands. At least his father had the decency to respond to his eye contact, his mother on the other hand was refusing to acknowledge his presence, as though he wasn't even there at all. At the moment he wasn't sure which reaction hurt him more. 

Chancing a glance back up his father, no longer looking in his direction, was busying himself with setting the places at the table per the instructions of his wife. He purposefully stared at the back of his head for a few minutes, hoping he would sense that he was being watched and turn around. Unsure of exactly what he was planning to do were that to actually happen, more than likely the same thing as before. 

The only person who seemed to notice anything was amiss was Oliver, who glanced at him a few times with a worried expression as he continued to slowly fly in circles much to the delight of Teddy whose shrieks of joy suggested he thought the two of them were soaring through the air. "You ok?" Oliver mouthed at him during one of the times their eyes met across the yard. 

Nodding his head, he gestured towards Teddy to indicate that he should really be keeping his eyes in front of him and glued to the wiggling toddler. Regardless of the fact that Oliver's toes were barely off the ground, and they were going at a snail's pace.

Rolling his eyes Oliver gave him a look which suggested he didn't believe him for a second, focusing his attention once again on the toddler who was miffed his flying buddy dared to miss the fact that he was trying to steer the broom. A few figure eights were all it took to keep Teddy from bursting into frustrated tears, a smile back on his face as he clapped his hands and called out to various people in case they missed his trick. 

"Family is complicated," the warm voice of Remus said from beside him, glancing over at him he was met with a small smile and kind eyes. "The thing to remember is that if your father is at least trying to mend the bridge between the two of you then you should try and hear what he has to say."

Shrugging his shoulders, he busied himself with cleaning his glasses to give his eyes time to dry up without having to rub them. Replacing his glasses, he stared down at his hands. "He hasn't said anything."

"Not yet, but he will," Remus assured him. "I know it might not seem like it at the moment, but you are loved by both your mum and dad. Your entire family for that matter, perhaps by someone else as well."

His head snapped up in shock as he stared at Remus to be met with a fond smile, inclining his head towards Oliver as if he didn't know who he had been referring to. "That is- we haven't- not even a little bit," he stammered out, trying to calm his racing heart at the thought that love could even be in the equation at this point. Things were complicated enough as is, he couldn't even imagine what an emotion such as love would do to the precarious balance. 

"If you say so," Remus shrugged, though his eyes held a note of amusement as they turned to watch Oliver who was now pretending to almost crash into people as Teddy threw his head back and belly laughed while people gave dramatic screams and either ran away or threw themselves to the ground in order to avoid a catastrophe. "You know, Sirius and I don't have the epic love story the poets write about. There were some- rough patches between us. Trust that was broken multiple times, but eventually healed"

"I know all about trying to mend broken trust," he tried unsuccessfully to keep the bitterness out of his voice, feeling a deep ache in his chest as though he was missing something long since lost. "Not that I have been successful in my efforts." 

Remus gave an unexpected chuckle, nodding his head solemnly. "Here is what I have learned about trust, once it is broken it is difficult to get back. Not impossible, but difficult. Here is the kicker though, just because you forgive someone, and they forgive you, doesn't mean that is necessarily the end of the process. It is simply the beginning of a new relationship."

Glancing over at him Remus waited for him to nod his head in understanding before continuing on with his explanation. "That was the hardest part honestly. Forgiving each other was easy, what almost did the two of us in was what came afterwards. For years we tried to settle back into the relationship we had previously, it wasn't until everything came to a head that nearly spelled the end of the two of us that we finally truly dealt with the effects of our actions. It took time and nearly a year of therapy to realize we had to lay the groundwork to build a new relationship. One that was healthier and more resilient when faced with a storm."

"What if you have been trying to lay the groundwork for several years now?" he asked, wanting to say more, to vent his frustrations with his lack of a relationship with his parents and the trust that no matter how hard he tried to rebuild simply was not coming to fruition.

Remus thought for moment, his gaze intense as he watched his son continue to enjoy flying with Oliver and his husband standing off to side with a huge grin on his face as he clapped for every little thing Teddy did, no matter how small. "Perhaps the groundwork you have been trying to lay has been in the wrong direction," looking over at him with a warmth in his eyes that made him feel vulnerable. "Instead of moving forward to a new relationship with your parents maybe you have been working backwards to something which doesn't exist anymore. I have found communication is key in moving anything forward," with a pointed look at him, Remus inclined his head to his father who was still working on setting the table. 

Even with all of the baggage with his parents he really did want to have open lines of communication with them, the fact that they didn't seem to understand he really was trying was frustrating, to say the least. He hated dreading Sunday dinners with every fiber of his being and wanted to have the kind of relationship where he dropped by for no reason just to chat or to help pick some vegetables from the garden. Not trusting himself to say anything he simply nodded his head, mulling over the words of wisdom from his former defense against the dark arts professor. 

"Talk to your dad," Remus suggested, standing up from his chair and patting him on the shoulder. "You might find the two of you have more to say to each other than you originally thought. Your mum will come around in her own time, try to remember that it is nothing you have done. Just something she has to work through at her own pace."

He didn't get a chance to respond as his mother called out to everyone in attendance that lunch was ready to be served. Standing up as well he made his way over to Oliver who managed to get Teddy off the broom only because Andromeda promised her grandson he could sit near his buddy during lunch. 

"Alright?" Oliver asked, lightly knocking his elbow with his own. Watching him carefully as they made their way over to the long table in the middle of the main part of the garden to take their places amongst the others. 

"Yeah," he attempted a smile while knocking his elbow against Oliver's as well. Reaching over to ruffle Teddy's slightly windblown hair and receiving a grin from the toddler as he sat proudly at the table with the adults. 

He was holding tightly to the belief that his mother wasn't likely to say something ugly to either him or Oliver in front of everyone and risk ruining her adopted grandson's birthday. That hope was quickly diminishing as he could feel his mother's glare dripping with disdain for the man sitting next to him, causing him to bristle as he tried to appear as normal as possible. Watching Oliver out of the side of his eye he could tell his friend felt the venom in his mother's glare as well, distracting himself with Teddy's constant chatter which tended to revolve solely around flying but the tension in his shoulders was visible. A wave of fierce protectiveness washed over him, moving his chair slightly to the left as he let his arm rest around Oliver's waist as his fingers made comforting circles over his hip and lower back. Feeling his date slowly relax against him with a small smile settling over his lips as he continued to listen to Teddy and tried to carry on conversations with the other adults at the table. 

Attempting to allow himself to relax as well, forcing a smile at his family's stilted attempts at making conversation. None of them knowing what they could safely discuss and what might cause a scene like the one most of them endured Sunday night. It felt like he was sharing a meal with strangers; chatting about bland, predictable topics like the weather, what each other had going on this weekend, and a little bit of Quidditch thrown in. The distinct lack of laughter was the most telling sign that something was not quite right about this family gathering. While he might get easily annoyed at his normally boisterous family, the fact that laughter was ever present at the Burrow was something he was actually quite proud of. Proof that a happy family did in fact live within these walls.

Its absence left him feeling hollow, almost incomplete. 

A hand on his knee pulled him out of his musings, a flock of butterflies erupting in his stomach as he became acutely aware of the fact that Oliver's hand was resting on his knee. Glancing over he found his date had a worried look in his eyes, his gaze was almost calculating as he appraised his reactions giving a slight tip of his head to silently inquire as to his inner monologue. Shaking his head, he hoped to convey everything was ok for now, well- maybe not ok but certainly manageable. Slightly surprised that Oliver always seemed to know the exact moment to check in with him to make sure he didn't need anything. He really shouldn't be too surprised about Oliver's ability to pay close attention to multiple things at once. As captain of his Quidditch team Oliver had to simultaneously be engaged in not only performing well at his position, but also in keeping up with the game overall and knowing exactly what his other teammates were doing at any given moment. An endeavor which required an impressive amount of multi-tasking and was certainly something he excelled at. 

Smiling softly to let his date know everything was under control he tightened his grip slightly, not hard just a reassuring squeeze. He felt Oliver pat his knee gently, his hand pausing for a minute before choosing to let it stay resting on his knee. He certainly wasn't complaining about the turn of events, he rather enjoyed the sensation. A slight tingle which spurred on the butterflies in his stomach, causing an involuntary blush to spread across his cheeks.

Lunch progressed as well as could be expected given the circumstances. Finding himself grinning at Oliver as he listened to his date talk animatedly with Sirius about some Quidditch game he attended as a boy, apparently it was a pivotal point in Puddlemere United's legacy and Oliver was insanely jealous that he hadn't been born yet. Feeling a pair of eyes on him he glanced across the table to find Hermione was giving him a knowing look, one of her eyebrows cocked up as she giggled with Tonks and Ginny over something he was sure had to do with him and Oliver. Feeling his cheeks flush he quickly looked down at his plate before turning to George and inquiring about the joke shop, something normally guaranteed to get his younger brother talking and give him something to focus on that wasn't a rather good-looking man. Unfortunately, George seemed to catch onto his plan and instead of answering his question chose to grin wickedly at him, shaking his head and pointing at Oliver while making kissing faces at him prompting several other Weasleys to join in. 

Only Charlie and Hermione seemed to be on his side, waving their hands at the offending siblings and their significant others who were all still making kissing faces at him or pretending to swoon at the table which prompted several giggles as they all nudged each other. His humiliation only increased when Teddy caught on that something entertaining was going on, turning and attempting to make the kissing face while clapping his hands. Completely unaware of why he was doing it other than it looked like a lot of fun, the fact that it made people laugh only spurred the toddler on. Relishing in being the center of attention he continued to make the face while peppering in delighted giggles of his own. 

Other than a slight pink tinge to his cheeks Oliver did a fantastic job at ignoring everyone's antics as he continued to speak to Sirius about the Quidditch game. That is until Teddy realized Oliver was also ignoring him, demanding his attention until he finally acknowledged the face he was making. Praising Teddy as he made a funny face back at him which prompted a whole new game where Teddy expected anyone he made eye contact with to respond with a funny face of their own. 

"So glad you could make it today Tonks dear," his mother said as they all continued to eat, a hush falling over the table as everyone seemed to simultaneously stiffen slightly. While her tone was light and upbeat, he knew enough about his mother to realize she had ulterior motives. That woman was an expert at guiding the conversation in the direction of her choosing.  

"Of course," Tonks smiled at the little boy she carried for nine months so Sirius and Remus could have the child they always desired. "I wouldn't miss Teddy's big day for anything. It's not everyday that you turn three and become a big boy."

His mother chuckled fondly at Teddy who beamed up at his grandmother, turning his hair red because he knew his grandma thought he looked handsome with that color, as he continued to babble on about flying. "Perhaps if my dragon tamer of a son would move back to the UK from Romania you could come around more often." 

"Mum!" Charlie groaned, shooting a quick panicked glance over to Andromeda who smiled warmly at him but thankfully didn't appear to have same hope for the two people who had been best mates since their first year at Hogwarts. "We're just friends. We have been over this," Charlie mumbled into his hands while rubbing his temples to stave off an impending headache. 

"Is it such a crime that I would like for all of my sons to settle down with nice girls?" his mother asked innocently, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone at the table turned to look at her with varied expressions ranging from utterly shocked to downright furious.

He fell somewhere in the middle of those two emotions, his grip tightening around Oliver's middle section again. This time not as a reassurance but as a promise that he wasn't going to allow his mother to attack him yet again or at least if she did, he wouldn't be sitting by silently. "Perhaps not all of your sons want a nice girl to settle down with," he suggested, a detached coolness to his tone as he addressed his mother. "Perhaps some are perfectly happy as is with their current significant others," he was hesitant to use the word 'boyfriend.' Technically they never specified the term 'boyfriend' at the Ministry party, simply said they had been dating for three months. Others presumed they were boyfriends, something they hadn't corrected because it wasn't worth trying to explain. 

"I am concerned for you," his mother snapped at him, her chin jutting out defiantly as she pulled a face that suggested she smelled something unpleasant. "I am concerned for all of my children," she amended. "That is my job as a mother, to be concerned. I want the best for the people I gave birth to and that includes settling down with someone they will actually marry and starting a family of their own. I don't see how that is such a horrible thing to wish for the people I love?"

"Molly please-" his father whispered, urgently begging his wife to just drop the subject and not voice her concerns or her opinions regarding the subject. 

He was having a difficult time understanding how his mother could possibly feel this way. This was why he had been so hesitant to tell his family about his sexuality. He hadn't been as worried about his siblings, enduring a little bit of teasing he could handle because ultimately, they would be ok with the whole thing. It had been his parents' reactions which caused him anxiety, telling himself for years that he was overreacting to the whole ordeal. Building it up in his head until it became this horrible problem which in retrospect probably wasn't that big of a deal. Perhaps they would be a little shocked at first but would invite the boy he liked over to dinner in the same breath. As it turned out his fears were in fact valid, unfortunately now Oliver was being pulled into the middle of the drama. An innocent bystander who was becoming the sole target of his mother's numerous issues with his sexuality and his choice in partners. "What about that Audrey girl you went on a few dates with last year?" his mother asked, choosing to ignore her husband's pleading eyes to drop the issue which turned into more urgent requests as he realized the trajectory of the conversation. "She was a nice girl, Ginny and Harry spoke so highly of her from the dinner the four of you had. Can't you reconsider her?"

The silence that fell over the table was deafening, as if time itself had stopped for a moment or two. His mouth fell open at the audacity of his mother to suggest such a thing, especially with the man he was currently dating sitting right here. Casting a nervous glance over towards Oliver he found his expression to be unreadable, blank- as if he was completely numb at the moment to what was being suggested. He wasn't going to stand for this, his mother could say anything she wanted with just him present but she sure as bloody hell wasn't going to insult his sweet friend this way. Rather than provide his mother with a rather extensive character analysis of how wonderful Oliver was, he opted for a different response, perhaps one that would put him into an even larger hole with his parents but would protect his date's feelings. "Yes, you have made your opinion on the subject quite clear over the past week or so-"

"Percy-" Oliver cut him off with a hand on his shoulder, speaking for the first time to the astonishment of several people including himself. If it were him who was a guest in someone's home and being treated like this, he would be a mess at this moment and would certainly never step foot in their home again. Taking a deep breath, he realized he was shaking head to toe in anger at his mother who was still sitting at the table as though she had said nothing offensive. "Mrs. Weasley, it seems you and my mother have quite a lot in common. Both of you seem to feel their sons would be better suited with a nice girl on their arms rather than a man. Perhaps the two of you should get together for a quick cup of tea and lament over what a bitter disappointment the two of us turned out to be," Oliver spat out that last sentence, casting his eyes down at his place as he removed his hand from his knee choosing instead to rest his chin in his palm. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone sitting at the table. 

No one said anything in response to Oliver's comment, there really wasn't anything to say. Keeping his arm around his waist for another minute or so, when Oliver didn't relax into him like before he removed his arm as well. Figuring that perhaps in this moment the last thing he wanted at the moment was to be touched by anyone.

Not that he could necessarily blame him. 

The adults had sympathy reflected in their eyes as they all picked at their food, even his mother looked somewhat mollified. Potentially realizing she pushed just a little too hard and hit a nerve with their guest which was never meant to be exposed in front of everyone. Teddy didn't understand what was going on, just knew Oliver all of sudden looked incredibly sad. Doing his best to get his flying buddy's attention so he could morph his face into various animals in an attempt to make him laugh. The best he got was a sort of sad smile from Oliver and a few nervous chuckles from some of the adults sitting nearby. 

When lunch finally concluded, Oliver began quietly gathering up all of the dishes from the table while ignoring his whispered assurances that he wasn't expected to help clean up this afternoon and he could simply continue to just hang out with Teddy and his other siblings. "It's fine," Oliver shrugged, refusing to meet his eye in a way that stung more than he was willing to currently admit. "I don't mind doing the dishes," without another word Oliver turned on his heel and headed into the Burrow. He figured either he was actually going to go and do the dishes, or this was a convenient way for him to apparate out of here. Not that he could blame him for that decision, if he had to find himself another permanent date after today then he supposed that was just what he deserved after his mother's appalling behavior. 

Harry, Fred, and George quickly grabbed a couple of cups off the table before hurrying after Oliver, having decided this was a job for the former Quidditch team. Leaving him standing there unsure of what the right decision in this situation was. He wanted to go after Oliver, even if the man wasn't in the mood to talk at least he could just quietly be beside him perhaps offer just a smidge of comfort. There was also the part of him that wanted to lay into his mother, his father as well for being a silent bystander while his mother continued to rip him and Oliver apart. 

Feeling a hand resting gently on his shoulder he looked up to find Charlie and Bill standing there, grim expressions on their faces as their eyes darted between him and their parents. "Go on to talk to Oliver," Charlie urged him with a small reassuring smile. "He probably needs you right now."

"We will speak to mum and dad," Bill promised, a dark look crossing his features as he glared at their mum's back as she bounced Teddy on her hip. His gaze occasionally drifting to where Fleur was standing with a similar look on her face, probably remembering when he was in a similar position between having to choose between defending his partner and risk losing his family or choosing his family and losing the person who became the love of his life. 

He walked slowly towards the Burrow as the chatter of his remaining family faded into the distance. When he entered through the back doorway, he could hear the sound of muffled voices coming from the kitchen. As he walked closer, he couldn't miss the unmistakable sound of water running and a brush scrubbing the China clean. Pausing in the doorway he was unsure if he would be welcome, perhaps Oliver had decided to do the dishes by hand as a way to keep his hands busy so he wouldn't punch his fake date in the nose. "Do you need some help?"

"No, it's therapeutic in a way," Oliver replied, a moment of tense silence passing before he nodded, accepting that his date needed to work through what just happened at lunch in his own way. Knowing it upset him, touched a deeply buried nerve and perhaps even ripped open some wounds caused by his own parents' struggles to accept his sexuality. That was certainly something he could understand. The weight of that knowledge settling on his shoulders as he stepped into the kitchen and joined his twin brothers who were sitting on the countertop near the sink, Harry on the other side drying the dishes as Oliver handed them to him. 

None of them said anything for several minutes, standing there awkwardly as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Not quite brave enough to try and catch Oliver's eye yet he cleared his throat while staring intently at the ground, "sorry my mum is such a bitch," he muttered. 

Four heads swiveled to look at him, eight eyes widened in shock at his words as they all stared at him in bewhildered silence. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to think of anything poetic to say he simply uttered the first thing that popped into his head. Wishing now that he had taken the time to come up with a speech which matched the eloquence and grace of the one Remus gave him earlier. Passing the feeling of truly being seen and understood onto Oliver who desperately needed it in this moment. 

To his surprise Oliver threw his head back slightly and started laughing, followed by Fred and George and finally Harry joined in as well once they realized Oliver wasn't upset enough to not laugh at something. The four of them nearly doubled over as he stood there trying to work out why this was so funny. "That she is mate," Oliver finally gasped out with a semi-normal grin, turning back to finish up the dishes. "That she is."

"Could you give us a minute?" he asked the three men who weren't Oliver. The twins immediately jumped down from the counter with a nod while Harry stood stubbornly drying a dish, his nose in the air letting him know that he had zero intention of following through with his request. 

"Come on Harry," George gently coaxed, linking his arm around one of Harry's elbows which earned him a glare and snarl. 

"Let's give these two a minute alone," Fred suggested, taking the dish from Harry's grasp and placing it amongst the others. Linking his arm around Harry's other elbow, the two of them marched the younger man from the room, much to his displeasure. His protests growing fainter as they led him out into the garden to join the rest of the guests. 

Alone with Oliver he once again wasn't entirely sure what to do, just knew he couldn't do it with people watching him intently. Walking over he picked up the dish towel Harry had been using and started drying dishes. The two of them working in complete silence, however unlike a few minutes ago this silence didn't feel nearly as tense. More like what he was used to between them, a comfortableness with each other that didn't need a constant stream of chatter to fill the void. Oliver continued to wash the dishes, his hands plunging into the warm soapy water and pulling out dish after dish, handing it over to him to dry once he was finished. 

He tried to a quick mental calculation, figuring they had to be nearing the end of their task. Each time he allowed himself to be hopeful Oliver pulled yet another dish out of the sink, handing it over with a small smile which he tried to return. On one such occasion Oliver put his hand into the water and instead of pulling out a dish he grabbed a handful of the bubbles and deposited them right onto his nose with a wide grin as he watched him stumble backwards a few steps and swipe at his now soapy face. "Hey now! That was uncalled for," he tried to hide his own grin while suppressing a few giggles at the silliness of the gesture. 

Normally he wouldn't engage in such childish behavior, but something compelled him to play along, grabbing a handful of bubbles he swiped them across Oliver's nose. Standing back with a satisfied smirk as he watched Oliver blow puffs of air out of his nose to keep the bubbles from going up his nostrils, his eyes narrowing playfully as he grabbed another handful of bubbles. "Come here Perce," Oliver grinned at him, taking a few steps forward.

He couldn't deny that Oliver did look rather cute at the moment with the remnants of bubbles lingering on his nose, making him want to reach out and wipe his face with the sleeve of his robe.

"Now look here," he started to lecture his friend, fearing a war coming on. "This is how things get out of hand. Now you put bubbles on my nose and I put some on yours. There is no need to take this little game any further."

His answer came in the form of Oliver wiping his hand across the front of his shirt, leaving a line of water and soap suds. "Oliver!" he admonished. "This is a nice shirt!"

"Good thing it is just water and soap then and the fact that you are a wizard with a magic wand," Oliver grinned at him, being infuriatingly practical and well-reasoned at the moment. "Just trying to make sure you are clean is all."

"Clean! I will have you know that I am exceptionally-" his rant was cut off by Oliver who got him wet with the soap bubbles yet again, stepping back with a pleased look on his face as he surveyed his handiwork. Reaching his hand over he grabbed the towel he had been using to dry the dishes and hit Oliver across the bum with it. 

A surprised yelp came from Oliver as he massaged his butt cheeks. "Hey now! Your shirt will dry. I have to sit on a broom tomorrow morning, I can't be having a sore arse because you decided to spank me. My managers will never understand."

"Come at me with more bubbles and I will do it again," he threatened, rag poised to hit him yet again if he tried to wipe more bubbles on him. Oliver was not one to be outdone, reaching his hand into the sink he grabbed a handful of bubbles that were just waiting to be thrown at him. "I mean it Oliver, come at me one more time with those bubbles and I don't care about your managers or your career, I will spank you so hard with this rag."

"I feel like we walked in on the middle of something," Fred said from the doorway, eyebrows raised as he looked at George who was grinning from ear to ear. 

"I agree Fred, not exactly sure what it could be though," George pretended to ponder for a minute with that wicked grin still covering his face. "Could our older brother be having a bubble fight with his new secret boyfriend?"

He put the rag down carefully on the counter, standing up a little straighter and adjusting his glasses. Realizing the two of them had quite the audience now, behind the twins stood Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Ginny, and Harry who was setting a squirming Teddy on the floor. "No bubble fight here," he lied, ignoring the fact that Oliver was wiping off his handful of soap suds onto his jeans which made him cringe slightly. 

"Bubble fight!" Teddy shrieked, barreling across the room knocking himself into Oliver's legs with the force of one of those Muggle American football players he saw on the television one evening. Surprised the boy didn't knock Oliver over, he supposed that since Oliver was a bit sturdier than he was perhaps that accounted for him somehow managing to stay on his feet. Teddy was clamoring all over Oliver, pointing to his nose to let his buddy know exactly what he wanted. 

Oliver swung Teddy up and propped him on his hip, a move that suggested he was quite comfortable wrangling energetic toddlers. "You want to bubble fight with Uncle Percy too?" Oliver asked, met with delighted squeals from Teddy who was still pointing to his nose as his hair continuously changed color as it often did when he was being rambunctious. "I don't know," Oliver tapped his chin, whispering something in Teddy's ear that he couldn't quite hear. 

Reaching over into the sink Oliver grabbed a small amount of bubbles and placed them on Teddy's nose who sputtered and laughed, returning the gesture to Oliver who made a big deal about having bubbles on his nose. The interaction was insanely adorable, as he was laughing along with the others in the room, he didn't notice the two of them sneaking up on him until he felt two hands full of bubbles attack him from behind. A chorus of laughter following the action as he jumped around the room with a yelp while trying to reach the back of his shirt, which was starting to get uncomfortably wet. 

Teddy was howling with laughter as he pointed at him with bubbles still dripping off his tiny nose. "Uncle Percy funny!" Teddy cried as he clapped his hands. 

Stopping his jumping about he stared at a giggling Oliver and Teddy with his mouth slightly open, never once in Teddy's three years of life had he ever referred to him as Uncle Percy or funny for that matter, probably had never been referred to as funny in general before if he sat down and really thought about it. It wasn't horrible, not that he was going to let Oliver know this. Letting him know such a secret would simply encourage this sort of behavior. "You shouldn't be teaching toddlers to get people wet like that," he stated, earning an eyeroll from Oliver and several others. 

"You will dry Perce," Oliver argued again, placing more bubbles on Teddy's nose which delighted the toddler. 

"Yeah Percy," Harry grinned at him from where he was leaned against the doorway. "You will dry."

Oliver bounced Teddy on his hip. "Do you want Uncle Harry to be funny as well Tedster?" Oliver asked, grabbing a handful of bubbles and advancing towards Harry who was slowly backing away while Teddy was egging it on by screaming bubble fight over and over again, joined by the twins who seemed quite eager for what was about to happen. 

"Now Oliver," Harry held up both hands, looking for anyone who would back him up. "You really shouldn't be teaching toddlers to behave like this. Set a decent example for my godson to emulate. He will go to Hogwarts one day and I don't want him to be a menace to society. Back me up Percy!"

"You will dry," he shrugged, leaning back against the counter while relishing in the look of utter betrayal on Harry's face right before Oliver and Teddy chased after their newest victim who was desperately trying to escape his fate. Unfortunately, while Harry had undergone the initial auror training it was nothing compared to the rigorous exercise regimen Oliver was forced to adhere to, a few seconds later he heard Harry cry out that Oliver had gotten him all wet while Teddy's peals of laughter carried through the house, calling for more. 

Ginny shook her head, visibly sighing while glancing behind her where distant yells could be heard. "Better go save my future husband from a toddler and Teddy," she lamented, before turning to go find where Oliver and Teddy had chased poor Harry off to. 

The rest mumbled about rejoining the others as well, it was getting close to time to cut the cake and none of them wanted to miss that part. Normally he would stay in the kitchen and dutifully continue to clean the dishes for his mother, however given the current circumstances he decided that was a kindness he wouldn't afford to her- at least most of them were done which was far more than he felt she deserved at the moment. Leaving the mess behind he followed his siblings out into the garden to rejoin the party. 

"Can we talk?" his father's voice sounded from behind, stopping him in his tracks. Turning slowly to face the man who had spent the better part of the afternoon decidedly avoiding any interaction between the two of them. "It's rather important."

A curt nod was all his father got from him as he followed the man towards his workshop. 

His father was a quiet and thoughtful man, much like himself. Both of them enjoying the solitude of their own minds as they pursued their unique interests, while he found joy in reading and puzzles his father always found joy tinkering in his workshop with various muggle items he picked up second-hand. Taking them apart to try putting them back together again, at times modifying them to work with the help of magic. He always thought his father was brilliant, spending an hour or so just sitting in the workshop with him at night and on the weekends. Curled up in the armchair with one of his novels while he listened to his father talk. 

Not about anything in particular-just whatever came to his father's mind. Often it was about his job at the Ministry, whatever he was working on at the moment, questions about how muggles lived, and sometimes he would get some life advice from the man. Advice he always held close to him, even during the years he was estranged from his family. During tough moments he would recall those conversations and take comfort that he could at least hear his father's soothing voice in his memories. 

It was in those rare moments when his father would chat away to him that he felt closest to him. Something the two of them had never been able to recreate when they weren't sitting around in the workshop. Perhaps his father felt the same, choosing his workshop which was littered with muggle items and tools as the location for their conversation. Sitting in his usual armchair while his father sat on his stool at the workbench he waited with a knot in the pit of his stomach. Deciding it should be his father who spoke first. 

"I um- I suppose we should have a conversation," his father began hesitantly, cautiously easing himself into this talk which had been promised to his third eldest son. 

A deep breath in, hold for five counts then slowly let it out. "I suppose," he struggled to keep his voice even, his emotions in check not allowing them to bubble over. 

"I don't really know how to do this," his dad admitted, looking lost as he sat on the stool facing him. "I always thought that if one of my children ever came out as gay, or anything else for that matter, your mother and I would handle it well. That we would be supportive and loving. As it turns out when it is your own child it is a bit different than when it is somebody you know coming out to you. So, I guess that is the first thing. I'm sorry that when you came out to your mum and me that we didn't exactly handle it well, continue to not exactly handle the news well."

His dad seemed sincere in his apology, remembering the words from Remus earlier that if his dad was at least willing to try then he should listen to what he has to say. Setting aside his own pride for a minute he decided to give a sincere apology of his own. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you first, before you found out from the Daily Prophet. That probably wasn't the most enjoyable way to find out about your son's sexuality."

"Don't be sorry, your mother and I are the ones at fault here," his dad waved a hand at him, a small smile settling over his lips for just a second before being replaced with the nervous grimace from before. "I am going to be honest with you, I had no idea what to say after dinner Sunday night. I wanted to apologize, try and make everything right, but I just didn't know how. I went to the bookstore in Diagon Alley and they didn't have a single book on the subject. So, I tried one of the muggle bookstores in London. As it turns out the muggles are a bit more advanced in this area than wizards, I found an entire section on the topic. I picked up a few of the books because I figured that since I didn't know what to do maybe one of these books would hold the answer."

Nodding his head in understanding as he too would often turn to books to try and provide the answers to whatever was currently troubling him. "Did you find the answer?"

"Somewhat," his dad shrugged with a warm chuckle, continuing on in a quieter voice. "I am only a few chapters into a couple of the books, but what I have learned is that coming out can be scary and it must be done in the person's own time. You simply weren't ready to come out to your family yet, apparently it is quite common to come out to non-family members first and then work on those closest to you. I know you didn't mean to become front page news and I can only imagine how uncomfortable that must have been for you and Oliver."

"Certainly, wasn't the most pleasant thing that has ever happened to either of us," another deep breath as he tried to again heed the advice of Remus and lay some groundwork, unfortunately that meant being honest and uncomfortably open with his father about a subject he had never discussed in-depth before. "I did try before the Ministry party to tell you and mum. I just- it was hard to say it and then mum told me about Ron and Mona, and I knew the conversation would be lengthy. I just didn't want you both upset before you officially introduced yourselves to Mona as witches and wizards so I thought I would just tell you after the party when I had more practice saying it out loud. Then the Daily Prophet article happened, and everything just got all balled up and complicated. Perhaps I could have told you years ago but every time I tried the words just wouldn't come out and I would get in my own head and stop myself from saying anything. I just- I don't want to date girls, dad. I just don't."

His dad let out another warm chuckle, his eyes shining with what might be unshed tears. "I know son- I know. I kind of figured about the whole popping over before the Ministry party. Looking back on the timeline it seemed as if that made the most sense. I understand why you didn't, the conversation would have been rather lengthy, and I am not so sure that would have been the best first impression to leave Mona with. You don't have to date girls if you don't want to, your mother just has some misguided concerns for your overall happiness. I am working on her though, according to the books I just have to give her space to work through her own issues before pushing too hard to move towards acceptance."

"I am happy," he assured his dad, not a lie by any means. He was perhaps the happiest he had been in at least several years, if not ever. There was no denying that a good majority of that happiness seemed to come from Oliver's presence, an observation that he wasn't ready to deal with the repercussions of quite yet. 

Faltering for a second his dad seemed to think things over, he could practically see the wheels turning in his head. If it was anything like what his own head looked like, then his dad was trying to recall a passage in one of the books he recently read to guide the conversation. When his dad did speak there was a solemness to his voice, his eyes never leaving his son's. "There is only one thing I have ever wanted for my children and that is for them to be happy. Truly happy. As happy as I am with my career and being married to your mother, as happy as I am being a father to my seven wonderful children. It isn't hard to see that you are happy with Oliver, he seems like a wonderful man."

"He is," he whispered, feeling the tug at his heart which often came when he considered what might happen if his family found out his relationship with Oliver was fake. A lie devised to satisfy his mother's need for him to be in a relationship, perhaps he would keep it going for a bit longer. Let things even out between him and his parents then decide exactly what to do about his plan for Oliver to be his permanent date to functions. "I am happy with him, with my life at the Ministry. I want to one day be the Minister of Magic or at least be in a high-ranking position so that I can actually do some good. That is why I joined the Ministry in the first place, to do some good."

His dad hummed, tipping his head in acknowledgment as he considered his son's words. "Good, that is all that I want for you. Happiness, no matter what that might look like. I hope you know how sorry I am for my behavior as well as your mother's. I really am going to try and do better, put everything behind us and leave that baggage in the past. I don't ever want you to feel as if you have to choose between your family or the person you are dating."

Nodding his head that he understood his dad turned his head, scratching his nose as he surveyed his latest project laid out on the bench. "Oliver is half-blood correct?"

"Yes," he tried unsuccessfully to hide his spreading grin, hoping this train of thought was going in the direction he thought it was. 

"I could use some help. Might be useful to have someone who is a little more well-versed with the muggle world." his dad suggested, his expression turning thoughtful as he internally worked through whatever current issue was giving him pause. "Plus, I need to apologize to Oliver in person for how he has been treated. You could both come over one night when you are free. As I recall you are an expert at working through diagrams and schematics, certainly came in useful when you would join me in my workshop as a kid."

He smiled, nodding slowly. Allowing the warm memories of those rare nights and weekends when he would get to join his dad in the workshop, tinkering with muggle items, thinking how nice it would be to recreate that now that he was an adult. "I can ask Oliver later this week," he promised, aware that he needed to give Oliver the proper amount of space to recover. "Either way I could sort through the diagrams for you."

"Excellent," his dad glanced down at his watch, pursing his lips slightly. "We should probably head back out. There is a three-year-old who will be getting antsy for his grandmother's double chocolate cake."

"Wouldn't want to keep Teddy waiting," he returned his dad's smile. Considering his talk with his dad a success, certainly not groundbreaking and they hadn't even begun to cover every topic necessary to fully move forward. As the muggles say, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither would a new relationship with his dad or his mum for that matter. It would take time, patience. He would simply have to wait and see if his dad was serious about wanting to put everything behind them and finally work towards true reconciliation. 

In the meantime, he would lay the groundwork. Continue to show up to family functions and as long as his dad was trying then he would try as well. 

Making his way back outside he found everyone was waiting on him and his dad so they could officially begin cake and presents. Oliver was sitting alone in the grass with his legs stretched out in front of him, slightly removed from the rest of the guests. Imagining the stains that he would have to diligently scrub out of his clothing in a few hours, he shoved down the desire to ask his date to move to one of the lawn chairs. Settling for using his robe to protect his pants and shirt he smoothed invisible wrinkles from his clothing before he hesitantly took a seat next to him, patting his robe as a silent invitation for him to join him instead of laying in the itchy grass. Receiving a small nod of acknowledgment as his date scooched a little closer to him.

Folding his legs so he was sittling cross-legged he let his knee almost touch Oliver's thigh, not quite but almost. Careful not to sit too close to his date in case he wasn't ready to be touched quite yet, while his overall mood seemed to have improved, he could tell that his friend was still just a little off.

Cake was served to everyone in attendance, large slices that were at least twice the size of what one would normally receive at a birthday party. Teddy digging into his with both hands, his tiny fists shoveled chocolate cake into his mouth and all down the front of him. A big smile on his face as people laughed at the toddler who was very much enjoying his grandmother's cake. 

Glancing over at Oliver, who was picking at his own slice, he furrowed his eyebrows in worry. Perhaps his overall mood wasn't as improved as previously thought. "Something wrong?" he asked, trying to sound offhanded. Just making casual conversation instead of inquiring about his mental and emotional well-being. 

"Sugar," Oliver explained simply, pausing a moment before elaborating. "I can't overload my system before practice tomorrow. They hinted at making me run the length of a 5k for stamina and endurance training, so I really don't want to throw-up and cause unnecessary worry because I ate too much rich cake. My managers would not be pleased with me."

"Ah," he replied, taking a large bite of his own cake. "That sounds horrible. Did you want me to get you something else to eat? I am sure there is something in the Burrow that is a bit lighter than double chocolate cake."

Oliver gave him a grateful smile, shaking his head as he sat the barely touched cake down on the grass. "I am good. Still full from lunch."

"Let me know if there is anything I can do," he offered, letting the subject go to avoid making Oliver feel uncomfortable. While he didn't quite believe him about being full, he also knew that marching him into the Burrow and rummaging around in the refrigerator would cause a scene and potentially draw a scathing remark from his mother. Something that he certainly couldn't risk. Not right after he had the first decent conversation with his dad in several years. 

His date sat next to him in silence, arms stretched behind him as his head tipped slightly towards the sun. When he did speak his voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "You could play with my hair- like earlier when you woke me up from my nap."

Without pausing to consider his actions he set the plate to the side so he could free up a hand reaching an arm over to run his fingers through Oliver's soft curls, after a minute or so Oliver leaned his head against his shoulder. Adjusting slightly so they were both more comfortable he continued to play with his hair as requested. Shoving down the awkwardness of showing any affection towards someone he was dating in front of his family, having never introduced anyone to entirety of the Weasley clan he was in uncharted territory. The butterflies were ever present in his stomach, accompanied this time by a nervous tightening of his chest. Pushing down his fear that someone, namely his mother, would have something nasty to say he focused on other things. Mainly on Oliver, who was wrapped in his arms.

Noting that the man's shoulders were no longer tensed, now fully relaxed as he leaned against him. While he couldn't really see his face, he hoped that his slow and easy breathing meant the furrow of his brow had disappeared once more, replaced by a more relaxed expression. The fact that it was his touch that seemed to be able to bring about this change in his date was best left to be unpacked for another day. Right now, he was content to let Oliver take a well-deserved nap on him while he played with his hair. 

Now that most were finished with their cake it was time for presents. From experience he knew this was going to be a lengthy process. Teddy tended to want to try out each new toy as he opened them, leading to a few tantrums when one was taken away from him only to dissolve a few moments later when a new toy was dropped in his lap. 

A freshly cleaned Teddy ran across the yard screaming, "No nap Ollie!" as several people tried to catch him as he shot past. The toddler evading their grasps as he made his way over to his buddy who was, as noted, very much asleep at the moment. "No nap Ollie!" Teddy demanded as he proceeded to hit Oliver on the shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. 

"Don't hit Teddy!" he admonished, right as Oliver began to stir. Lifting his head slightly, while blinking with a confused look on his face. "It's not nice to hit. If you wanted Oliver to wake up, then you need to be gentle."

"Sorry Ollie," Teddy self-corrected, patting Oliver gently on the shoulder. "No nap," placing himself in Oliver's lap Teddy folded his hands primly while he waited for his presents to brought to him, having decided this was where he was sitting for such an activity. 

Oliver looked down at Teddy then back up at him, still blinking while trying to piece together the events from the few minutes that he had been asleep. "Time for presents," he supplied, hoping to ease some of the confusion as to why he now was a chair for an eager toddler. "Apparently Teddy has decided that you have to be an active participant."

"Fantastic," Oliver muttered, giving his eyes a few wipes with the sleeves of his robes before forcing himself to perk up. "You ready for your presents Teddy?"

"Yeah!" Teddy exclaimed, clapping his hands right as Andromeda arrived with Remus and Sirius behind her. Their arms laden with presents and apologetic looks on their faces for the abrupt wake-up call and potential bruised shoulder from Teddy's tiny fists.

The rest of the guests moved closer as well, Harry and Ginny plopping down on the other side of Oliver followed by Remus and Sirius as they engaged Teddy in talks of all of the new toys he was about to receive. Remus and Sirius gently suggesting that perhaps some of the older toys would be better used by other children, a sentiment that Andromeda fully supported. The others gathered round nearby, he noted that his parents sat the furthest away. While his mum may not be glaring at him anymore, the displeasure was still evident on her face as she watched Teddy tearing into his presents. Wrapping paper and ribbon flying around in the air as the toddler ripped open his boxes to pull out his new toys. Babbling away and cooing out thank you's to whoever got him the present.  

Focusing his attention on the birthday boy he attempted to ignore his mother's behavior. Deciding this was the best course of action, trying to channel the now older and more mature Percy and allow his mother the time and space to sort through her issues before he went the route of a direct confrontation. 

It was difficult though, something about the situation brought out seventeen-year-old Percy who simply wanted to prove himself and make his parents proud. Lashing out when confronted with what he considered unfair criticism, misunderstood for his ambitions and goals in life. He didn't want seventeen-year-old Percy's relationship with his parents though, didn't really want the relationship he had with them now either. What he wanted was a clean slate, a fresh start. 

A do-over of sorts. If he could find a time-turner and go back a few years or so there were numerous things he could do differently that might have ended with today being far more pleasant than it had been. He wanted the relationship that Harry and Ginny had with his parents, wanted his mum to warmly greet Oliver as if he was her own and for his dad to pat Oliver on the back like they did with Harry. Wanted his mum and dad to look at him with the same pride as they did with Ginny and be excited about his accomplishments and milestones in life. 

He wanted to continue to be happy- a new emotion for him and one that he was willing to do just about anything to hang onto. 

Teddy was still sitting in Oliver's lap, playing with his new set of stuffed bludgers and a Quaffle. A constant stream of babble as the toddler rambled off everything that popped into his head, maybe a quarter of it actually made any sense whatsoever. 

Not that anybody cared, interacting with Teddy as if everything that fell out of his mouth was a philosophical masterpiece well beyond his mere three years of life. A few yawns later and Oliver scooped the sleepy toddler in his arms ignoring his half-hearted protests of "no nap" all the while continuing to yawn as his eyes drifted shut. A few moments later and Teddy was sound asleep with the stuffed Quaffle held against him as he peacefully slumbered. 

Oliver passed Teddy off to Andromeda who rocked her grandson in her arms. "Poor dear," Andromeda tutted, getting the attention of Remus and Sirius so they could go lay the boy down for a much-needed nap. "He was so excited about his birthday party that he has just tuckered himself out."

"It was all that flying about," Sirius winked at Oliver. "Not every day that you get a flying lesson from one of the most famous Quidditch players in Puddlemere's history."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say all of that," Oliver replied, having passed off Teddy to someone else he had taken the opportunity lay down as well. His back against the grass with his knees bent, one arm laid over his eyes. 

He could only imagine how tired he must be right now. Patting him gently on the head he pulled a few statistics out from some articles he perused just to stay current with the Quidditch rankings. He was a Weasley after all. "I disagree. You have broken three records so far for the entirety of the British/Irish league. Plus, you are one of the youngest captains that Puddlemere United has ever seen, the average age usually being around 30 years old before they will bestow the title onto anyone. By the time that you retire at around 35 or 40 you will probably have more championship pins than any other captain in the history of the team, combined with your other accomplishments and you might just make the top five most influential players for Puddlemere. An honor that hasn't been given to anyone since 1985."

After he rambled off his statistics there was a decided hush that fell over everyone listening as they stared at him as though he was a dragon who was inviting them over for dinner and perhaps a game of cards afterwards. 

Shifting a bit, Oliver turned his body towards him, opened his mouth before pausing thoughtfully. A grin spreading across his face as he studied him, heaving himself up so he was resting on his elbows. "I always knew you were a Puddlemere United fan. Time to come out of the closet Perce. Leave the Chudley Cannons and the Holyhead Harpies in the dust. Those teams have done nothing for you, time to be on the winning side of the championship games."

"Now wait just one minute-" Ginny started in, her voice growing in volume before quickly being silenced by Harry who was attempting to prevent his soon to be wife from waking up the slumbering toddler in Andromeda's arms. 

"All I am saying is that Sirius isn't wrong," he argued, folding his arms in defiance. 

Oliver didn't argue with him, staring at him as the silence closed in around him. Shrugging his shoulders, he gave him with an easy grin. "Whatever you say Perce. I trust your judgement. I am a ridiculously famous Quidditch player, and everyone should be honored by my mere presence in their lives. Like a star burning brightly in the night sky as I dazzle everybody with the sheer brilliance of my unparalleled Quidditch skills. They will build statues in my honor at the Ministry and people will lay flowers at my alter in remembrance of my sheer talent for centuries to come. Immortalized in stone, now that is the dream."

"Now you are just being a right pain in my arse," he scoffed, rolling his eyes as Oliver's grin widened at the fact that he successfully got him all riled up. "It is one thing to be aware of what you have been able to accomplish but now you are just bordering on arrogance. It is not a good look by the way. The day I walk into the Ministry and find a statue of you in the atrium is the day I retire from Wizarding society."

Oliver was unphased, that adorable grin on his face as he batted his eyelashes at him. "Who said anything about the atrium? I am going to have the statue placed in your office, so you never have to go a single second of your day without being able to stare adoringly at my face. I will become your muse as you churn out brilliant reports which ruin any chance I have of doing something stupid while sitting atop a broomstick."

"The only thing you are becoming is the reason I am going to be forced to pull overtime," he quipped, ignoring the various giggles from the people surrounding them to glare half-heartedly at Oliver who didn't have the decency to look even a tiny bit sorry that he decidedly broke numerous broomstick safety regulations each time he played one of his matches.  

"Well-" Remus interjected, clapping Sirius on the shoulder who was shaking with silent laughter at their banter. "I think that is our cue to go lay our son in one of the bedrooms so he can get on with his nap."

With Teddy down for a nap the rest of the guests began to take their leave. A few quick goodbyes and he found himself standing in the front of the Burrow so he and Oliver could apparate to their respective flats. This was the first time since before leaving his flat that the two of them had the opportunity to actually be alone, finding that he wanted to prolong it for just a few more seconds.

Reaching out for Oliver's arm he stepped a little closer, letting his hand rest on Oliver's massive bicep. "Thank you for coming today. I know this probably wasn't your ideal Saturday and my mother's behavior probably didn't help anything."

"Teddy made up for your mum," Oliver assured him, shrugging his shoulders while glancing around the yard as though he was nervous. Finally stepping a bit closer as well, patting his shoulder awkwardly. "I don't mind, honestly. Most of the time I enjoy spending time with your family."

He tried to find a way to ease into what he really wanted to discuss with Oliver, finding no such bridge between the topics he decided to just dive right in. "I am a little bit worried about you."

Oliver cocked his head to the side, intrigued but understandably wary about where exactly he was going with this conversation. "I know you said that you are just tired and it was just a long practice, but you have fallen asleep twice today and I don't know you just seem-off I suppose. Not yourself and that was before my mum said anything so I know it can't be related to that particular fiasco. Just worried I suppose." 

Just insanely worried about your health and overall well-being. I care about you; went unsaid, implied in his words, tone of voice, and mannerisms. Not quite ready to say it though, not ready to admit that he truly did care about Oliver Wood. 

"Nothing a proper nap won't fix," Oliver promised, a small smile as he removed his hand from his shoulder. 

He didn't miss the fact that no explanation was offered for what might be bothering him. Proof that he wasn't far off with his assumption there was something else beneath just being tired from practice. While he wanted to continue his line of questioning, he knew that now was not the best time. Having a heartfelt conversation while standing outside the Burrow wasn't high on his list of things to do today and Oliver looked like he was hoping he wouldn't be forced to talk about it right now. Deciding to respect his need to have some space he just nodded his head. "At least take care of yourself. Have a nice meal, take a long bath or a shower or something, and definitely get some sleep. No Quidditch tonight, I mean it," he was aware that he had a motherly tone right now, however he wasn't exactly sure what to do about it. Continuing to stare at Oliver with his hands on his hips, as though his date was a naughty child who had been caught after bedtime playing with his Quidditch supplies. 

"Ok," Oliver appeased him, a slightly shifty look to his eyes as he fidgeted a bit. "No Quidditch, I promise. You coming over Wednesday so we can work on your project for work?"

Noting that Oliver was avoiding the subject by changing topics and trying to distract him, he held firm refusing to let the subject drop completely. "Yes, but only if you promise to actually take care of yourself."

"I promise," Oliver grinned at him. "No need to worry."

With a wave Oliver turned on his heel and disapparated. 

Something told him Oliver was going to do the exact opposite of what he suggested.

He never considered himself an overly emotional person, not one to usually let his heart win out over his brain. Lately though- his heart seemed to be controlling more and more of his actions. This moment being a prime example of his heart taking the reins while his logic and reasoning took a nice little vacation. A break from reality in a way.  

What Oliver did in his spare time shouldn't bother him. He shouldn't be worrying that Oliver was most certainly not going to heed his advice and have a lie down for a nice nap, more than likely the man was crouched over that miniature figurine set he had back at Hogwarts and muttering to himself while consulting numerous notebooks filled with Quidditch plays. He knew how Oliver could get while preparing for a major Quidditch match. The sleepless nights, forgetting to eat, worrying himself into a state, and generally not taking care of himself. That was one of the things he realized fairly early on in their friendship that the two of them had in common, the tendency to get so focused on their goals to the detriment of everything else. Their mental and physical health being the first two casualties of such endeavors. 

Perhaps that was why he was standing on Oliver's front stoop while holding a steaming bowl of vegetable soup from one of the cafes nearby. Not the most practical of decisions but as his heart was apparently calling the shots now practicality wasn't something of much concern at the moment. 

Pulling out his phone to text Oliver, while the two of them had briefly covered texting he wasn't sure he practiced enough to attempt such a feat by himself. Slowing repeating the steps that Oliver showed him on Wednesday night he managed to type a message, though he had to redo it several times because he kept misspelling words. While it was just a text message he refused to settle for bad grammar or punctuation. 

P: Check your front stoop. This is Percy Weasley. 

Hitting send he assumed the text message went through, unsure if Oliver would see the message. He had never seen him use his phone, other than when he was trying to show him how to work one, not wanting the soup to get cold he walked up to the door and gave three sharp knocks. Turning on his heel and disapparating to a little way down the street to wait for Oliver to find his soup. Making sure that he was still visible in case Oliver didn't get his text, he remembered the story of the time he was sent strange chocolates and ended up being under the influence of a rather strong love potion. Figuring that if were to completely vanish there was a chance he would throw it away, negating the gesture that he was hoping would put a smile on his friend's face. 

After only a moment or two the door opened and Oliver poked his head out, a confused expression on his face. Checking his phone, he glanced around for a few seconds before finally looking down and seeing the soup and crackers that he left for him. Bending down to pick them up he turned his head to the right where he finally spotted him waving at him, holding up his phone and pointing to it to let Oliver know that he was about to text him. A few tries later and he finally had the message perfect, hitting send again. 

P: Take a nap and eat your soup. You need to take care of yourself.

Watching as Oliver patiently waited for his text to reach him, he looked down at his phone with an exasperated eye roll as he texted something back to him. Staring at him with an almost amused look on his face as he held his bowl of soup while leaned casually against the door frame. 

O: Quit worrying... thanks for the soup though. This is Oliver Wood. 

The grin on Oliver's face as he watched him read the text let him know that he knew exactly what he was doing. Having a lot to say to him at the moment he decided it was far too much to text, pressing the green call button he watched Oliver stare at his phone for a minute before answering. "Hello?"

"You are such an arsehole sometimes you know that?" he couldn't help but smile and chuckle a little, letting Oliver know he wasn't quite as miffed as he was pretending to be. "I just didn't want you finding a bowl of soup that you thought could be laced with love potion and throwing it out. I was trying to be considerate."

"Who is this?" Oliver's looked a little confused as he stared down at the phone for a second before placing it back by his ear; however, he still had that tell-tale grin plastered across face as he stared him directly in the eyes from where he stood several meters away. 

Rolling his eyes at the idiot he gave a heavy sigh. "You know who this is you great lummox. Now quit playing around."

"Perce!" Oliver cried, as if he was just discovering who was on the phone with him. Squinting his eyes, he put his hand over them as if he could barely see him. "Didn't recognize you since you are so far away. Why didn't you just hand me the soup like a normal person?"

"Because-" he paused, trying to come up with a good reason for why he didn't go that route. This just seemed like the best option when he came up with the initial idea, the most romantic option if he was being honest. Not that he would ever admit that to Oliver. "I didn't want to take the chance on you inviting me in. You need to get some rest after your practice and the birthday party. Now, put down the Quidditch plays that I know you are obsessing over and either take a nap on the couch or in your own bed. Either option will do."

From the look on Oliver's face, he knew that he hadn't been far off earlier when he had been worrying that the man was doing the exact opposite of what he recommended. "Do you have hidden cameras set up or something?" Oliver asked, glancing around the outside of his house as if he was searching for something. 

"I don't know what those are, but no. I just know you. Seven years of sharing a dormroom together and I think I have a fairly good handle on how you get before a big game. Forgetting to eat and not sleeping are not going to solve a single thing."

While Oliver did roll his eyes at him, he could see the soft smile from where he was standing letting him know that he did appreciate the concern. "I am just reviewing a couple of plays Perce. Nothing to worry about."

He went into full former head boy mode, chest puffed out and foot tapping impatiently as he stared Oliver down his voice full of authority when he spoke. "You need to stop that. Go inside and eat your soup, then you need to take a long hot bath and fall asleep early tonight. If you keep at it, you will burn yourself out before the game or be so weak from lack of sleep and proper nutrition that you are utterly useless. Not a good look for the new captain of Puddlemere United. Don't make me bring in Angelina and potentially Simone to drive home the point."

"Fine," Oliver sighed, realizing that he was in fact serious about this matter and there would be no winning the argument. "You win. I will take care of myself. I will eat three meals a day and get the recommended eight hours of rest. Only because I want to, not because you said so."

Raising a single eyebrow in response he let a smug look cross his features. "Good. Enjoy your soup, it's vegetable... your favorite," the last part was said quieter, as though it was a secret he was revealing for the first time. Somehow the gesture felt more intimate now, he wasn't just leaving Oliver a bowl of soup he picked up on a whim but rather one that he picked especially for him because he knew that he would enjoy it. Confirmation that he took the time to remember something Oliver told him.

The look that crossed Oliver's face was hard to read, somewhere between surprise and perhaps just a little bit of affection towards the person who was taking care of him in a roundabout way. "Thanks-"

"Eat, bath, sleep," he reminded him, not entirely sure how he would enforce such instructions. He was rather good at dueling, supposed he could knock Oliver out, forcing him to eat and at least lie down. Hopefully such extreme measures would not be needed. 

"I heard you the first hundred times," receiving another eye roll and what he assumed was a sigh. "Bye Perce."

Satisfied that Oliver would at least eat tonight he nodded his head at him. "Bye Ollie."

Before he turned to disapparate he was treated to a rather dazzling smile from Oliver, the kind that took up his whole face and lit up his eyes making the corners crinkle just a little bit. A smile so wonderful and perfect that he could recognize its brilliance from several meters away. Causing his breath to catch for just a moment while the butterflies in his stomach fluttered about, his chest tightening slightly before relaxing as a slow warmth spread throughout his body. 

As to how he truly felt about Oliver Wood, well- he still wasn't entirely sure. What he did know was that he wanted to be the reason that man smiled. 

That was enough for now. 

Chapter Text

"When the days stop pouring and the rain had dried, I know you're the person I want by my side. Scared to let my heart go free and dive in blind. 'Cause love and heartbreak, they walk a thin line... I have my reasons for takin' it slow. 'Cause we all got demons, yeah, we all got ghosts. But every time I've broken down, you've picked me up. Yeah, you put back all the pieces I thought that I'd lost... When I fall in deep, say you'll follow me. 'Cause I really need to know, that you'll stick around when my walls come down. Don't be phased by what's underneath yeah, you know I've been hurt but I'm learnin' what love's like with you."  Rita Ora- Follow Me

He lived his life by strict rules. Everything organized and categorized precisely to his exact specifications. 

No one was more surprised than him when he went to find a book he needed only to discover it was not where it should be, after about half an hour of searching he did finally locate it in an entirely different section of his home library. Taking a step back he soon realized several of his books were not in their designated spots, scattered haphazardly across the varied shelves and piles throughout his flat. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed his books being out of order before this moment, normally details such as that stuck out to him. Snatched his attention until all he could see were the things that weren't quite right, the pattern interrupted.

The only reasonable explanation was that he had been a bit distracted lately and a certain sexy Scottish professional Quidditch player was entirely to blame.  

Deciding it had been a while since he went through his books, considering he had nothing else to do on this Monday evening, there was no time like the present. Pulling every book off the shelves and checking each corner of his flat to ensure none were overlooked he quickly amassed quite a large pile in the middle of his living room. Sitting down with his back against the couch he started the arduous task of sifting through the multitude of books, the first pass was simply an inventory since he needed to properly assess the genres and sub-genres he would be using to re-sort the books. The organizing by authors' last name wouldn't come into play until he got ready to place the books into their final location. 

The work was tedious, but not mentally taxing which was a welcome change to the past week where he had been spending every free moment pouring over the lists of potential project ideas and skimming through massive amounts of information buried in various books to narrow down his choices. Currently he had three contenders which were far enough along in the research phase that he could comfortably complete the remainder in the timeframe allotted. 

He worked for quite some time, as the light in the flat slowly dimmed. The shadows on his walls becoming more golden in hue as dusk settled over the streets of London, eventually forcing him to pull out his wand and turn on a few lamps so he could continue with his work. 

Hearing his cell phone ring he was pleased to see Oliver's name appear on the screen, pressing the green button he held the phone to his ear to be greeted by Oliver's warm voice. "Hey Perce," he could practically hear the smile behind the man's words. The mere sound of his voice filling him with warmth as the butterflies in his stomach once again made their appearance. "What are you doing?"

"Just sitting around my flat," he admitted, not sure if letting Oliver in on the fact that he was sitting on the floor surrounded by a massive mound of books while wearing some old sweatpants and the sweatshirt he borrowed from the man was too much information or not. "Quiet night in."

He tilted his head back against the couch, closing his eyes as he took a well-deserved break from carefully sorting through the pile of books. There was quite a bit of background noise, wondering if perhaps Oliver was walking down the sidewalk. "Excellent. What are you doing for dinner?"

Glancing around his flat he sighed heavily, dinner had been the furthest thing from his mind, but he figured he should probably eat at some point this evening. "Haven't quite decided yet. Thought I might order some take-away, perhaps just make myself a sandwich."

Oliver made a non-committal sound, pausing for a minute before continuing on in a slightly hesitant voice. "So, you haven't had dinner yet correct?"

"No, not yet I was just-" a loud popping noise was followed by the sudden appearance of Oliver in his living room causing him to emit a loud yelp and fall over onto his side in a fright, dropping his phone in the process. Pushing his glasses back into position on his face, he glared at a grinning Oliver as he brushed himself off. Scrambling to get back into a more dignified position rather than sprawled out on the floor like a giant overturned turtle. "Merlin's beard Oliver! You can't just pop into people's flats like this. Honestly!"

"I brought dinner," Oliver shrugged at him, holding up the paper bag which he assumed contained some ingredients which would soon become a meal for the two of them. Giving him a look that suggested he wasn't really sure what the big deal was. 

He blinked at his friend, trying to register what exactly was happening at the moment. Usually when people wanted to come over for dinner they explicitly stated their intentions, not posed a vague question about dinner then just show up unexpectedly in the middle of someone's living room. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, still trying to put himself back together after being startled. "You can't just pop in uninvited to people's flats. There is a social protocol for situations like this."

"Fine," Oliver huffed out a puff of air, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he set down the bag on one of the chairs nearby. "Percy, may I come over and cook you dinner?" while he thought the gesture was considerate and perhaps just a little bit sweet, bordering on romantic, he also didn't want to encourage such behavior. Something about Oliver just being able to invite himself over on a random weeknight with a bag full of groceries to cook him dinner felt a bit too intimate for his comfort. Not wanting to hurt Oliver's feelings, he didn't say anything, giving a slight sniff as he readjusted his glasses so they wouldn't look askew. Oliver realizing that he wasn't going to get an answer just shrugged and continued on as if nothing was wrong. "I will take your silence as confirmation that I have permission to surprise you with dinner. Are you moving?"

"My books weren't in the right place. I am reorganizing them," he sighed heavily, glancing around the flat and realizing that to others it looked like a mess. Where he saw his plan coming together others potentially just saw mass chaos. "It's going well I promise. This is just the mid-point. You can't judge progress until it is complete. The whole 'it has to get worse before it gets better' mentality."

"Ah," Oliver nodded his head solemnly, picking up the paper bag as he glanced around the living room. "Tragedy has struck the Percy Weasley residence. Well, good thing I am here then. I can provide you with much needed sustenance during this very difficult time."

A familiar tightness took hold of his chest as he stared at Oliver's boyish grin which took up his entire face. He wanted to be angry with him for interrupting his evening, he just couldn't though. Finding that he was rather pleased Oliver was here and especially happy he brought dinner with him. "I thank you for your support as I recover from utter devastation. Your mere presence is a comfort to me."

Oliver's laughter grew fainter as he made his way into the kitchen as though he had been here a thousand times before, hearing cabinet doors being opened as he searched for the remaining supplies he would need. Pushing himself into a standing position he followed after Oliver, more to be a polite host than because he thought he would be much use in the kitchen. The fact that he couldn't remember the last time he used his stove or oven for something other than re-heating let him know he would be letting Oliver take the reins in this endeavor. 

He figured he should at least offer his assistance as a sous chef in case two sets of hands were required. 

Walking into the kitchen he was greeted by the site of multiple pots and pans laid out on the counter as Oliver rummaged around in the refrigerator. "Can I help you find anything?"

"Nope," Oliver popped his head up over the door of the refrigerator, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he stared at him. "When I need help locating cold Chinese food then I will enlist your assistance."

Leaning against the counter he found he was torn between agreeing with his friend's assessment of his cooking abilities and being slightly insulted by the statement. He had more in his refrigerator than just cold Chinese food, there was some Vietnamese food in there as well and everything he needed to make a delicious turkey sandwich. "Are you ever going to let the cold Chinese food thing go?" he asked Oliver, whose amused look let him know his answer. "It is not like I eat it every day. Just every once in a while, when I don't feel like warming it up is all."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Oliver muttered, turning from the fridge to open a few more cabinets as he continued to search for the remainder of what he needed. "Do you have any salt and pepper?"

"One cabinet over to the right, first shelf," it was one thing when he went over to Oliver's flat but there was something about seeing him in his kitchen that was slightly unnerving. Figuring there was nothing wrong in appreciating the gesture, it was a kind thing to do. Friends would occasionally make each other dinner and it meant nothing, no reason to overthink the situation and begin to panic. Oliver was hungry and he was hungry as well, why not fix the problem together? Feeling more settled now that he used logic to reason out his argument for allowing Oliver to stay, which had nothing to do with the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence in his stomach or the warmth blooming from his chest, he allowed himself to relax a little. "What would you have done if I had already eaten dinner."

"Tried again tomorrow," Oliver said simply, cocking an eyebrow at him. "That's the great thing about dinner. You have to eat it every day so there would have been plenty of opportunities for me to pop over for a visit."

He raised his eyebrows as well, allowing himself a moment to appreciate the fact that Oliver was wearing a fitted pair of sweatpants and a shirt which showed off his well-defined arm muscles and trim waist. "Remind me to update my wards," he smirked at Oliver who stuck his tongue at him, humming softly as he stood next to the stove looking perfectly at ease next to several pots and pans that he would not have the slightest clue what to do with were the roles reversed. 

"All right you," Oliver waved a spatula at him with a stern look on his face, marred by the usual boyish grin that threatened to make an appearance. The corners of his mouth twitching upwards, and his eyes crinkled at the edges, causing his dimples to stand out. Unsure if he wanted to poke his fingers in those dimples because he knew Oliver hated that or perhaps close the space between them and kiss them. Shaking his head at such a thought he wondered what was wrong with him this evening, sleep deprivation and the sudden appearance of this adorable grinning fool were the top two contenders at the moment. "Out of my kitchen. Dinner is a surprise."

Placing both hands firmly on his hips he leveled Oliver with a playful glare. "Now listen here, I will allow you to stay and cook me dinner, but it is my kitchen. If I want to lean against the counter and be of no help whatsoever then that is what I will do."

"I will let you stay," Oliver leaned back against the counter as well, crossing his arms over his chest with an expression somewhere between smug satisfaction and amusement. "On one condition."

Adopting a position similar to Oliver he tried to mimic the same look in an effort not to be outsmarted and run out of his own kitchen. "And what would that condition be pray tell?"

"I need to know where the garlic condenser is," Oliver said simply, that smug smirk growing in size as his eyebrows quirked upwards watching his friend's expression morph from panic to utter confusion.

He mulled Oliver's request over, struggling to keep his face from showing too much of his inner turmoil. He had never heard of such a thing as a garlic condenser, minced garlic sure but not really sure how you would condense garlic. "The- the what?"

"The garlic condenser," Oliver repeated in a patient tone, as though he was explaining an extremely difficult concept to a younger student at Hogwarts. That slight twinkle of amusement shining in his eyes making him wonder if this was all some elaborate ruse that he hadn't quite caught onto yet. "Every kitchen comes with one. I simply need to know where yours is and then we can get on with cooking dinner."

He tried to stall a bit to give himself time to recall what in the world Oliver was referring to and where it could possibly be hiding in his kitchen. Ignoring the smug man watching him intently, he started opening some random drawers pulling out different things that he didn't quite know what their exact purpose was, laying them on the counter with a hopeful look at Oliver who just shook his head at him making a carry-on gesture with his hand. After several minutes he had a small pile of things either his mum or Fleur insisted he needed, yet had never actually used, laying in front of him and Oliver standing off to the side who looked as if he just won some sort of game. "Couldn't you give me just one hint?" he pleaded with his friend who didn't seem very sympathetic to his plight at the moment. 

"That wasn't the deal Perce," Oliver pursed his lips, trying to hide his grin and failing before shooing him out of the kitchen with his hands. "Now get, so I can finally start cooking dinner. You have quite the pile of books on the floor which are in need of your immediate attention."

He certainly couldn't argue with that logic, huffing his indignation he turned on his heel to leave the kitchen feeling only a tiny bit mortified that he either didn't know what a garlic condenser was or perhaps didn't know enough about cooking to realize that he didn't own one. Stopping at the entrance he looked back over his shoulder. "Perhaps if you just-" feeling a smack on his bum he yelped in surprise as Oliver let out a loud laugh, holding up the offending spatula in his hand as he shook his finger at him. 

"Out," Oliver sang in a teasing tone, swinging that spatula again at him as he hurried into the living room. "You had your chance, now let me get on with your surprise dinner preparations and you just focus on that progress you claim to be making."

"I am making progress you great Quidditch obsessed lummox," he mumbled under his breath as he surveyed his pile of books trying to remember exactly where he left off before Oliver popped over for a visit. Settling down he crossed his legs and started to once again sort through his pile, creating several smaller piles in the process now that he had a bit of a firmer idea what his main genres were going to be. Listening to the muffled sounds of pots boiling and what sounded like things being chopped and diced, the aroma which filled his flat was simply heavenly as delicious smells wafted in from the kitchen. He was certain that Oliver was humming to himself as he tended his concoction, having always been quite a good singer he found that he didn't really mind the excess of noise. It was all rather nice, cozy in a way that he wasn't exactly used to. Having never had a real relationship no one ever cooked him dinner before, certainly never in his own home. Something he found he could potentially get quite used to. "Everything still ok in there?" he called after checking his watch and realizing it had been about three-fourths of an hour.

Oliver's soft humming stopped as his head popped out of the doorway. "Yes, you just let me worry about dinner. You stay in here and worry about your books that can't seem to stay in the correct location."

"Just give me a hint at what's for dinner?" he pleaded, his stomach letting out a loud grumble as a particularly delicious smell tickled at his nose. Inhaling deeply, he thought it had a bit of an almost Italian undertone. Perhaps some sort of pasta dish or maybe even homemade pizza. 

"Relinquish control Percy!" Oliver called, his voice growing more distant as he headed back into the kitchen. "Time to just let go and allow me to handle things for the evening. Chill, relax, pop open a cold beer and prop your feet up!"

Scoffing at the audacity for such a double standard he almost went towards the kitchen, the memory of being smacked across his bum with a spatula kept him rooted to the floor. No need to invite violence into his otherwise lovely evening. "That is rich coming from you!" he yelled at Oliver whose deep rumbling laugh filled the flat. "I remember a certain Quidditch captain who would spend hours ranting about how his team wasn't taking practice seriously. Merlin help them if they were a mere five minutes late to your crack of dawn practice."

"That is different!" Oliver's muffled voice took on a little bit of a whining tone that he found quite adorable. "I was trying to circumnavigate dark forces which were conspiring against the Gryffindor Quidditch team and my chances of finally securing the Quidditch cup. You know what I was up against, between Harry trying to get himself killed at least once a year and your brothers landing themselves in detention nearly every night I was fighting for my life on a daily basis. It was an uphill climb, and I was dragging my entire team behind me every step of the way. So yes, I was prone to yelling at them for being late but that was because I was already at the end of my rope. The fact that I graduated Hogwarts with my sanity intact is a true miracle!"

"The fact that I graduated Hogwarts with my sanity is the real miracle," he grumbled in a voice loud enough for Oliver to hear him, suddenly recalling the number of times his roommate had drug him out of bed in the middle of the night or ridiculously early in the morning so he could complain about some Quidditch related disaster. "I deserve a medal for services to the school for putting up with your arse for seven years."

Oliver's face popped back around the corner, his eyes narrowing at him as his foot tapped against the tile. "Like you were such a ray of sunshine and beacon of positivity. I served as the mediator between you and the twins for five long years and was your calm voice of reason in the storm of your crippling anxiety over exams. I distinctly remember long nights during our seven years as roommates where I would stay up well into the wee morning hours and quiz you on material that you knew backwards, and forwards yet were somehow convinced that you were going to fail said exam. Which was simply ridiculous because you never failed a single thing in your life, well- maybe the flying lessons our first year but with my expert tutelage you managed to squeak out of that one fairly unscathed."

He hadn't actually needed Oliver's help, growing up in the Weasley household he knew how to fly a broom. While he might not have been nearly as proficient as most of his siblings he wasn't half as clueless as he made himself out to be. At the time he assumed it was the fact that being able to help him with something put a smile on Oliver's face, as they grew older it became quite clear his willingness to play dumb had more to do with the close proximity of Oliver's body to his own as he showed him Quidditch maneuvers. "You tried to drown yourself in the shower because you lost a Quidditch game. I had to drag you out by your feet," he reminded his friend, whose mouth dropped open as he stared at him in utter betrayal. Trying a few times to say something in return before finally finding the words that previously escaped him. 

"That was one time Percy Weasley!" Oliver stomped his foot like a toddler. "And I would appreciate it if you would kindly stop bringing it up every chance that you get. I admit my reaction might have been a bit over the top for the situation but given the circumstances I think you could understand how distraught and traumatized I was."

He gave Oliver a soft smile as he made a shooing gesture at him, earning him a glare in return as Oliver's foot continued to tap a rhythmic beat on the kitchen tile. "Don't you have some pots to attend to?"

Oliver mumbled something that he didn't quite catch, figuring it was probably for the best. The man was a professional Quidditch player, and they were known for having quite the- colorful vocabulary to put it nicely. He supposed it was necessary, a catch of having such a job. Needing to fit in with the other players, specifically the older men who were retired players turned managers and beneficiaries for their prior teams. They would not tolerate what they considered pansies, men who refused to participate in the profuse profanity that spewed from their lips. He remembered that from the few Quidditch games he went to as Oliver's friend when he was still a reserve, the shock of hearing people speak such vulgar language with no shame or remorse. While his family was rowdy the use of profanity was strictly banned in the Burrow growing up, only ever hearing it occasionally from his older brothers and a few times from the twins when they wanted the shock factor. 

While he knew he should be offended, he couldn't help but be just a bit amused at the thought of Oliver muttering darkly about him while tending to a task as domestic as cooking dinner. The delicious aromas from the kitchen mingling with the lingering scent of Oliver's cologne from the sweatshirt he was wearing as he sat on the floor while waiting for his meal to be done. 

When Oliver re-emerged from the kitchen, he was accompanied by a large tray hovering in front of him containing their tea, two large steaming bowls of soup, and a few grilled cheeses. Oliver sat the tray down on the coffee table, watching his face intently while standing just slightly back with an almost nervous stance. As though he wasn't quite sure what his reaction to the surprise would be- even though it was perhaps the most wonderfully thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him. Completely unprompted at that.  

"Tomato?" he looked up at Oliver who suddenly seemed a bit bashful. A tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks as he softly smiled and scuffed the toes of his foot against the carpet. Noticing that his socks appeared to have Quaffles on them which somehow just added to the overall adorableness of this situation. "My favorite."

"Tomato basil actually," Oliver shrugged at him, the soft smile still present as he sat down next to him. Scooting closer until their knees barely grazed each other, trying to remain cool and collected as a shiver ran down his spine at the sensation. "I thought it might be a bit fancier than just plain tomato."

Placing a tentative hand on Oliver's knee he picked up his spoon and took a long sip, the flavors of the soup immediately sending his tastebuds into overdrive as he nodded his head, patting Oliver's leg he let his hand slide ever so slightly towards the man's thigh as he took another sip. Definitely not soup from a store like he was used to cooking, the fanciest he ever got was mixing a bit of milk into his canned tomato soup. This had chunks of stewed tomato in it and was perhaps the best bowl of soup he had ever tasted in his entire life. "This is bloody delicious!"

"Glad you like it," Oliver gave him a sincere smile as he took a sip as well, a critical look settling over his features before ultimately nodding his head. Seemingly satisfied with his own skills in the kitchen. "Normally I cook the soup for a few hours, but I didn't want to keep that grumbling tummy of yours waiting."

"My tummy thanks you," his gaze drifted from Oliver's face to the plate of food in front of him, leaning back against the couch the two of them settled into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed their dinner. Letting his hand linger on Oliver's leg just to test a theory that had been rolling around in his head for the past few days. 

It was strange, to be sitting on the floor with Oliver while enjoying a bowl of delicious soup. Not necessarily because of the fact that it was Oliver per se, just the unusual sensation of sharing his flat with anyone. Since moving out of his parents' house, he had only lived alone, entertaining the occasional visitor which usually just consisted of Penny and her fiance. 

There was a distinct change in his relationship with Oliver, a shift which happened in a short span of time. When he first came up with the half-formed idea of asking Oliver to be his permanent date, he expected awkwardness would follow, that perhaps things might be awkward between them for a long time. He noted a distinct lack of awkwardness between the two of them, the uncanny ability to sit together in amicable silence without the need to fill every second with mindless chatter. 

At the beginning of their agreement, he felt- indifferent? No, that was much too harsh of a word to describe how he felt about Oliver. Thinking back to the Ministry party he had certainly been attracted to the man, who wasn't though? However, that was about it. He attended a work function with an attractive man, but there was nothing substantial about the connection at that point.

The friendship had evolved since then, reaching a deeper level of understanding between the two of them while still leaving room to discover things about each other. That had been a surprise as well, never thinking that he would hang out with Oliver outside of functions where one of them needed a date. A plan which lasted only a few days before he let himself fall into a sort of gravitational pull that surrounded the man. Unable to resist the urge to spend more time with him, knowing that he was setting himself up for future complications yet not being able to force himself to say the word 'no.'

He wanted to get to know Oliver better, to form an opinion on the man he was today instead of basing everything off of the person he knew at eighteen. They had both matured and grown in various ways since their time at Hogwarts and he found with each passing day he was closer to solving the puzzle that was Oliver Wood. The man had always been intelligent, sweet, and kind; none of that had changed in the past few years. 

It also seemed as if Oliver's ability to put up a wall when he felt vulnerable in any way was still present. He knew there was more bothering him than just a rough Quidditch practice, yet Oliver refused to talk to him about it. Evading the question and giving vague answers to try and dismiss that he had any emotions or feelings whatsoever. At first, he thought perhaps it was just him overreacting, however at Sunday dinner several of his siblings pulled him aside to ask what was up with Oliver. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one to notice that his date was acting just slightly off during the birthday party. 

While he wished that Oliver would just tell him what was wrong, he also knew his friend was never very good at opening up and letting people see his weaknesses. He could count on one hand the number of times he had ever seen him cry. Something which signaled the highest form of trust Oliver could bestow on an individual, begging the question of whether that trust was still there or not.

Glancing over at Oliver, he found him grinning in a way that made him swipe at his face in case he had tomato soup dripping down his chin or crumbs from his grilled cheese stuck in the corners of his mouth. "What?"

"You're wearing my sweatshirt," Oliver stated, no question in his voice as to why he might still be wearing it after a few days. Just a simple fact. 

"Yeah," he hesitated, considering the possibility of making up a reason for why he would need to be wearing the man's sweatshirt instead of one of his own. Settling for a half truth. "It's soft and warm. I can give it back to you tonight if you want."

Making a flippant hand gesture Oliver shook his head. "Don't bother," at his incredulous look Oliver snorted, his grin widening ever so slightly. "Seriously Perce, I have drawers full of sweatshirts and most of them are Puddlemere United. Keep it if you like it. I meant it when I said it looked nice on you."

"Does it still bring out my freckles?" he asked innocently, his heartbeat speeding up as Oliver's cheeks bloomed a pretty shade of pink at his question. Choking on his soup as he stuttered a reply before glancing around the room in search of anything to change the topic of conversation. Settling his gaze on the massive pile of books with something akin to relief on his face. 

"Do you need some help?" Oliver gestured in front of them. 

He had already finished the first pass, a list of the main genres in his head that he was currently working on "No, I appreciate the offer but to sort them into genres you sort of have to know the contents of the book. If I get to the part where I put the groups into alphabetical order, then I will enlist your help."

"Have you read all of these books?" Oliver let his eyes sweep over the hundreds of thick volumes spread out, his pupils dilating slightly. The way he asked the question wasn't sarcastic or judgmental like others would have been, just curious if not a little bit impressed. 

"Most of them," he replied casually, watching the awe on Oliver's face as his mouth and forehead scrunched up slightly in the way it always did when he was trying to do math or figure out something. Potentially doing a mental calculation for how many books one would have to read in a year in order to get through the rather impressive collection he had acquired over the years. The answer was about sixty or so, he was a fast reader and were he to stick to mainly works of fiction then he could push that number closer to the one hundred mark. As it were he had a soft spot for non-fiction, as much as he loved that genre those types of books tended to take a bit longer to read. Bringing down his average to a number that was still impressive yet nowhere near what he hoped to one day achieve when he acquired more time to sit and read. 

Oliver nodded his head, a low whistle escaping his lips as he once again regarded the pile in front of them. "I am lucky to read one book a month, if I can manage three or more, I pat myself on the back."

"You are an athlete," he replied casually, starting to once again sort the books. Watching the confusion on Oliver's face out of the corner of his eye. "If I had to spend several hours a day training my body as hard as you train yours and play multiple Quidditch matches a week at the height of the season then the last thing I would want to do is come home and spend my free time giving my brain a workout."

The mere mention of Quidditch caused Oliver to become unnervingly quiet. He thought about trying to pull some information from his friend but was fearful of an unintentional upset, not wanting to do anything that might jeopardize his rekindled friendship. Putting his burning questions on hold he focused intently on the task at hand. Allowing their knees to continue to touch while his hand would occasionally pat his friend's leg, a silent assurance that he was here if he did want to talk about whatever was bothering him. That he cared about and supported him, hoping that Oliver registered and appreciated the gesture. 

He worked in silence for a long while, easily slipping back into the mindless ease of his task as he blocked all outside influences to keep his attention from wondering. Feeling a slight pressure against his leg he registered it for a second before going back to the task at hand. He had already sorted all the books that fit into an obvious category and was now working a small pile of more ambiguous titles. The pressure came again, an assertive poke that caused him to glance over to be met with Oliver's grinning face. The same grin that he always gave him at Hogwarts when he would interrupt his study sessions because he was feeling ignored. "What's this book about?" Oliver asked, holding up a large book with one arm as though it was a piece of parchment. The corded muscles of his forearm were quite obvious at the moment making his mouth go slightly dry and his mind to blank out for a moment. 

Giving his head a small shake to rid his mind of such thoughts he couldn't help but wonder if Oliver knew how his bicep was bulging at the moment. Knew what it was doing to his already waning resolve to not let his emotions and his heart get carried away. "A detailed account of the 1895 floo network failure that left the wizarding world in Great Britain and Ireland in mass panic for three full days," he answered without even having to stop and think. Having long ago committed the details of his home library to memory. 

Oliver's mouth fell open as he gaped at the massive leather-bound book in his hand. "This whole book only spans three days? You have to be kidding me."

"As I previously stated, it is a detailed account. There is quite an extensive amount of background information that contributed to such a catastrophe. Several people were stranded in the floo network for hours only to end up in random locations and severely disoriented."

"It's over a thousand pages," Oliver chimed in, still balancing the dense book with one hand. A slight grin on his face which let him know that perhaps he was at least slightly aware of what he was doing to his quickly diminishing resolve. 

"Here," he handed Oliver one of his favorite books, leaning in a little closer than was necessary while ensuring that his fingers grazed Oliver's as he took it from him. "This explains the history of the mechanics and principles of magic required to make a broomstick fly. Might be a bit more interesting to you if you are looking for something to read."

Oliver took the book with a hesitant look on his face. Flipping it open to a random page and perusing a few lines with a small nod of his head. "Thanks," Oliver groaned. "Do you have anything with some spaceships blowing stuff up in it?"

"No," he replied. looking over at Oliver with an expression somewhere between adoration and exasperation. "It's about Quidditch, you know- in a roundabout way. You will enjoy it, the information you can glean from those pages is invaluable."

Oliver didn't look quite convinced, flipping through the pages as though he was hoping to find some sort of answer from the words and diagrams flashing by his eyes. His lips twisting, for a second he thought he was going to say something. Changing his mind he shook his head, settling his elbows on his knees with a huff as he began to read the book. 

Watching Oliver out of the corner of his eyes he tried to decipher what exactly could be bothering him at the moment. He could tell Oliver was still just a bit on edge, his shoulders tensed and there was an almost imperceptible frown on his lips. To others it would appear as boredom, however he was well acquainted with his various moods. This wasn't boredom. "Everything ok?" he struggled to keep a light and casual tone, not looking up from his sorting. Knowing that when Oliver was in a sour mood which had nothing to do with the current situation the best thing he could do was let him work through it internally. At least that was what used to be the best solution, in the past Oliver would always eventually tell him what was bothering him, confiding in him and seeking comfort in his advice.

Once again calling into question whether that old trust was still present between them. Hoping that it too survived the years of them not speaking to each other. 

"Yeah," Oliver mumbled miserably. "Well- no, but I prefer to sit in silence and stew on it for a minute."

"Stew away," he tried unsuccessfully to hide a giggle rising from his chest, covering it with a coughing fit which he blamed on the tea he was sipping from. Glancing over at Oliver in amusement. He couldn't help it, the man looked very grumpy sitting there with a death glare at the poor book on the floor which hadn't done a thing to offend him. 

Knowing that whatever it was had nothing to do with him he didn't let Oliver's sour mood affect his enjoyment of getting his books back in order. Since it could be completed with one hand, he let his other one settle on the small of Oliver's back. Rubbing small comforting circles which occasionally led to a contented sigh from Oliver, bringing a smile to his face as he continued on with his previous task as well as his current one of comforting his friend.    

Feeling a dim pressure against his leg once again, he glanced over with one eyebrow lifted in case his friend had gotten bored of his book. Without saying a word Oliver shifted until successfully positioning himself so he could lay on him. Oliver's chin rested against his knee with his arm draped around his leg, the book within reach so he could still read comfortably. Instinctively smoothing his hand through Oliver's hair as he surveyed his work. 

Everything was now sorted into a general category, and he was mentally going through the list of subcategories that he would begin working on where appropriate. Most people would leave it at non-fiction or mystery, but he knew that taking the extra time to really organize his books would prove useful at a later date. When he was in the mood for a psychological thriller or a detective novel then he would be thankful for the breakdown, the ability to pull a book within seconds of his mood hitting him had proved quite useful in the past. 

Continuing his rhythmic motion, he couldn't help but let a small smile settle over his lips as Oliver made himself comfortable, perfectly content to lay on him as though nothing had changed between them. As the only dormmate and best mate he was usually the person that Oliver chose to lay on during their time at Hogwarts. Something that he found to be oddly comforting in a way, over the years he grew to enjoy Oliver's silent company as he studied or completed homework well into the evening. Sitting on his bed with Oliver draped over his legs or leaned against his shoulder, usually working on Quidditch plays or reading one of his Quidditch magazines. 

"I missed you," Oliver said simply, turning a page in the book as though he made some offhanded comment about the lovely spring weather they had been experiencing.

The truth was he missed Oliver as well, not in the tortured longing way he read about in those muggle romance novels but in the way you would miss a friend you hadn't seen in a while. Little moments throughout his workday that he would make note of because he thought that Oliver might find them funny or interesting, counting down the seconds until he could either tell him over the phone or better yet in person. "It's only been two days," he commented, opting to play it cool and casual instead of the babbling internal monologue that was currently gushing about how he missed him as well. 

"Doesn't mean that I didn't miss you," Oliver said quietly, continuing to turn the pages at a rate that he knew meant he was just skimming the pages. "A lot if I am being honest."

He couldn't help feeling- relief? Relieved that Oliver had been thinking about him as well? Relief that Oliver actually did want to spend time with him? There was fear mixed into the emotion as well, a portion of him that wanted to recoil instantly. Withdraw his hand from Oliver's hair as though he placed it on a stove top, he hadn't realized was too warm, until the heat built up to the point he could no longer stand it. "I missed you too."

Oliver hummed, rolling his neck briefly before resuming his position. Nuzzling his head into his leg as though he could have possibly forgotten he was there. "How is your sorting going?"

"About to start on the task of categorizing them into sub-sections so I can pull the exact title I am in the mood to read within a moment's notice. I am currently trying to decide exactly how organized to make them. There is such a thing as too many sections, especially when several of the titles could technically fit into multiple areas. It really all just comes down to personal preference," he leaned against the couch, watching his fingers slide through Oliver's soft curls. Not even attempting to hide what he was actually thinking at the moment, knowing that his friend would never judge him for his slightly neurotic tendencies and need to obsessively categorize and organize his life. 

"Is there going to be a Quidditch category?" Oliver inquired, as if nothing else mattered as long as Quidditch was somehow involved. Seemingly no longer needing to sit and stew about whatever was bothering him earlier. 

Nodding his head, he settled his back against the couch. Stretching a little bit after being hunched over for quite a while. "It will be a sub-category under the non-fiction section, along with appearances under travel and broomsticks," he said softly, allowing his hand to stray from Oliver's hair to his shoulders then down his back. Noting how Oliver's tensed muscles seemed to relax under his touch, which at the moment felt electric. As his fingertips danced across Oliver's muscles a film of static formed underneath them, creating a pleasant tingling sensation as his heartbeat thumped in his throat. 

"Excellent," Oliver murmured, adjusting himself again the book still lying open in front of him though it was fairly obvious he was no longer engrossed in it. 

With each pass of his hand through Oliver's curls his breathing deepened, until his body went slack as his chest slowly rose and fell. The line between his eyebrows softening as he slipped into a deeper sleep. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the tightness in his chest gave way to the familiar spread of warmth. Starting near the location of his heart then slowly making its way through his body until it felt as if every part of him was buzzing just beneath the surface. Worried that Oliver would be able to feel the tingling sensation on his skin, the electricity coursing through his veins, or the rise in body temperature as he sat there contently watching him sleep while sprawled out in the floor. Waving his wand, he acciod a blanket from a nearby chair, settling it over Oliver just in case he got cold.

Finally forcing himself to quit watching the peacefully slumbering man in his lap he figured it was best to leave him to his nap. Continuing on with his sorting, being careful not to jostle too much in case he disturbed him. Telling himself that his hesitance to shake Oliver's shoulder and wake him up stemmed from his worry that something was bothering him, best to just let him rest in case this was a direct result of staying up far too late into the evening too obsess over Quidditch plays or worry himself into a state. 

The hesitancy had nothing to do with the constant warmth that settled itself in his chest. 

Nothing at all. 

Finishing the last of his sorting he moved to the daunting task of organizing by author last name. Not a difficult task per se, just tedious and there always seemed to be a few books that had to be slipped in at the last minute because they were previously overlooked. 

He thought several times of waking up Oliver as the minutes ticked by, turning quickly into several hours at the blink of an eye. There was a softness and warmth that he wanted to preserve for just a bit longer so he carefully avoided any excess of noise or movements that might wake him up. From what he remembered the man was a fairly heavy sleeper, having spent quite a bit of time during their seven years at Hogwarts practically forcing him at wand point to get out of bed so he wouldn't be late for classes. If it didn't involve an insanely early Quidditch practice, then it was nearly impossible to wake him. The same thing seemed to still be true as his friend slept on without the slightest hint that he was aware of anything happening around him. 

At one point he took a break, wiping at his eyes wearily as they felt as if they had buckets of sand in them causing them to itch and almost burn. Glancing down at his watch he realized with horror that it was nearing midnight, which certainly explained why his eyes were bothering him. Oliver was still sound asleep, with his head resting comfortably in his lap; had they been sitting on the couch he might have considered just leaving him there for the night and waking him early in the morning. However, he couldn't exactly let him sleep on the floor all night especially since that would not bode well for an early morning Quidditch practice. Cringing at the thought of how stiff his muscles would be and of course there was the back pain to contend with as well. 

No, that simply would not do. Now to just wake the man up, something that proved to be a herculean task. After nearly ten minutes of roughly shaking him, Oliver finally stirred, staring up at the ceiling blearily as his consciousness slowly returned to him. 

"Huh?" Oliver asked sleepily, his voice hoarse and thick after his nap. Giving a small cough to clear his throat, he turned his head slightly before closing his eyes again. 

"It's getting late," he answered quietly, smoothing Oliver's hair away from his forehead in an inexplicable gesture. Feeling a rush of tenderness towards the man who was still lying contently in his lap without any indication that he had any intention of moving any time soon. 

Oliver's eyelids opened just a fraction, blinking slowly at him for a few seconds before stretching his long limbs. Rolling over so he was on his back, staring up at him with a small smile. Shifting his body until he eventually settled himself into a more comfortable position. "Are you ready for me to help you alphabetize? I have been diligently practicing my A,B,C's in preparation for the grand event."

He snorted in response to Oliver's quip, his hand flying to his mouth as his eyes widened slightly. Not meaning to do something that could hurt his friend's feelings, he didn't think Oliver incapable of helping with the task it was simply the way he worded it. 

Oliver just rolled his eyes, his hand making lazy circles on his knee that practically made him come undone. "It's true," Oliver murmured, his hand still dancing across his knee. "I know all of them up through the letter 'M.' I fear after that you are on your own."

"What happened to the letters 'N' through 'Z'? he asked lightly, playing along with Oliver's renewed good mood. 

"Hmmmm," Oliver hummed, his lazy smile growing slightly. "Too many bludger hits to the head. The letters just fell right out onto the pitch. I was lucky to be able to retain my current knowledge, it was a little dicey for a moment ya know."

The laugh that escaped him shook his form, jostling Oliver who despite the unexpected movement remained casually lounging with his head in his lap. Swiping his hand over his eyes Oliver wiped the last of the sleep from his face, the gesture causing a familiar flood of warmth to bloom from his chest. Grinning down at Oliver fondly, he moved a few more pieces of stray hair away from his forehead couldn't help but notice how cute he looked when he had just woken up. "It's almost midnight," he said, more to avoid anything more embarrassing escaping from his lips than anything else. 

Oliver nodded with a wince, shoving himself up into a sitting position with his hands. Stretching as he yawned, his eyes narrowing slightly at him. "A gentleman would have just put a pillow under my head and let me be. I was quite comfortable."

"You were on the floor."

"Are you a wizard?" Oliver grinned at him, eyebrow quirking upward. Patting the couch with one hand just in case he hadn't understood exactly what was being implied. 

He actually hadn't considered that possibility. Supposing that he could have simply levitated Oliver onto the couch and avoided this entire conversation. He hadn't though and Oliver knew that. 

Bloody prat. 

Choosing to sniff indignantly, he didn't want to grace Oliver's observation with a verbal response, however not saying anything would give him the impression that he had won. That was simply unacceptable. "Did you at least have a good nap while you were sprawled out on my floor?"

"Delightful," Oliver muttered darkly. "Your floor is doing wonders for reintroducing that crick into my lower back and neck. I did have a rather pleasant dream though, Puddlemere United wiped the pitch with the Holyhead Harpies. The entire crowd was chanting my name."

Nodding his head, he decided not to remind Oliver that he had just told him he was comfortable on the floor. "You were always quite good at Divination," he gave Oliver a wink who just snorted derisively. "Perhaps the dream is some sort of psychic vision into the future."

"Highly doubt that," Oliver stretched again, moving in a way that made his shirt ride up slightly. "The crowd never chants the keeper's name for long. I spend hours at a time keeping the score of the other team down and it is the bloody seeker who catches one ball that makes the crowd go wild," a shake of his head at the audacity of such an injustice as he continued on with his stretching. 

"Typical," he muttered, joining Oliver in shaking his head. It was quite common for non-seekers to have a little bit of resentment towards the importance that many place on the seeker position. Without the other players the game would be quite boring and if the chasers on the other team overpower the other team's keeper, then even if the seeker catches the snitch their team won't necessarily win. He could understand how it might be disheartening to put so much time and effort into perfecting your skill only to be overlooked because the position isn't considered flashy by most. "At least your family will be screaming your name at the game."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew what he said had been the wrong thing. While he wasn't sure exactly why it didn't change the stricken look that morphed Oliver's features into a grimace, putting space between them as he seemed to become smaller somehow. Curling into himself as if he was fearful of showing any portion that could reveal a vulnerability. His fingertips twitched with the urge to move across the rug and gently take Oliver's hand in his own. His friend looked positively miserable at the moment, he was torn between pushing him to talk about what was bothering him or allowing him to bottle up everything. "I- I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," Oliver lied, his voice once again thick and hoarse with raw emotion. Wiping at his eyes, this time not because he was waking up from a pleasant nap but because he looked as if he was fighting back tears. A realization that nearly tore his heart into two. 

"Anything you want to talk about?" he took another stab at offering a sympathetic ear to whatever was bothering his friend. Putting the various clues together he could reasonably assume it had something to do with his parents. A conclusion that surprised him just a little bit, Oliver had always been close with his parents. At least he was before the war, while his parents might not exactly enjoy each other's company they had always practically doted on their only child. Remembering a comment Oliver made about his parents trying to set him up with the local girls from the village near their family farm along with his reaction to his mother's comment on Saturday the pieces of the puzzle started to slowly come together in his mind. 

Reaching his hand over he let it rest lightly on Oliver's shoulder, all it took was one look from the man and he quickly closed the space between them. Wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulders as he pulled him towards him. Tightening his grip to let him know that he was here for him regardless of whether he wanted to discuss his issues with his parents or simply sit in silence.

"My parents, they um-" Oliver's voice wavered, his eyes welling with tears that formed a glistening sheen over his pupils. Wiping at them furiously as if both his emotions and his eyes were betraying him. "They don't come to my games anymore." 

The rush of white-hot anger that filled him both surprised him and fueled him to readjust the way he was sitting so he could give Oliver a proper hug. Oliver resisted for a second or two, eventually allowing himself to be pulled into an embrace as his head rested against his thin shoulder. One arm tightly wrapped around Oliver's back, his other hand sliding up to cup the back of his friend's head, moving through the soft hair. "Does their reluctance to come to your Quidditch matches have anything to do with them not wanting you to date a man?" he couldn't think of any other way to word his question at the moment, knowing that he probably could have found a gentler or more poetic way of asking his question had he been given some time to think about it. Realizing that he should have been using the few hours Oliver had been asleep to come up with a way to ease into this conversation, preferably in a way that hadn't ended with his friend sitting next to him with tears filling his eyes. 

Oliver nodded his head as he settled himself against him, no longer fighting the physical contact. "Some other stuff as well," torn between asking a follow-up question and not saying a word, he simply sat there in awkward silence. Unsure if asking for additional details would be inappropriate given the current circumstances, yet not wanting to seem disinterested or unsympathetic. As it turned out he didn't need to say or do anything, a few shaky breaths later and Oliver continued on with his explanation in a quiet voice. "The war was hard on them, my mum especially. She is muggle-born so her and my dad went into hiding once it became clear that the wizarding world was no longer safe. They didn't quite understand why I would want to continue playing Quidditch when I could have just as easily went home to Scotland and lived a normal muggle life. It wasn't until I came out as gay that their presence at my games ceased to exist. Usually it's fine, whatever. It's just- with this being my first game as captain I always thought that I would look into the stands and see my mum and dad beaming proudly at me. I sent them tickets the other week, but they sent them back a few days ago with their condolences on not having the time to make it to my match."

He had forgotten all about that piece of information, not sure how he could have been so blind as to forget that Oliver's mum was muggle born. Not even bothering to ask what those years the wizarding world was thrown into the threat of a war were like for Oliver and his family, that perhaps he had his own tragedies from that time period. The fact that his parents seemed to have little to do with the magical world currently was a bit surprising, even more so that they were no longer supporting his Quidditch career. His dad pushed him from a young ago to become a professional Quidditch player, a sort of fulfillment of his own father's boyhood dreams which were never fully realized. An observation that he had never and would never share with his friend, however the anger of seeing how the pressure that Oliver's father put on him to succeed at Quidditch simply added to his overall stress and anxiety came flooding back to him. Renewed, the old flame being fanned with his resounding anger at his friend's parent's refusal to come to a simple match. It wasn't a difficult request, one that should have been easily filled. 

"Do you want me to come to your match?" he heard himself ask, feeling as though he was watching the scene playing out as some out of body experience. "I might have to borrow a Puddlemere United jersey, but I don't mind Quidditch. I am free that day anyways so I might as well come and see your match, cheer you on a bit if you want." 

"Aren't you already going to support your sister?" Oliver asked, his voice sounding devoid of any emotion which caused him to pull his friend even closer to him. "I don't want to get on the bad side of Ginny or your mother for that matter."

He was hesitant to tell Oliver that he actually hadn't planned on going to the match. At first because he had spent the past few years avoiding any situation that might lead to the two of them having a confrontation, showing up at a Puddlemere United game certainly increased those chances. Then because Oliver simply hadn't asked, not wanting to show up to an event where he might be recognized as Oliver's date. Potentially leading to some awkward questions, especially if Rita Skeeter got a picture of him cheering for the opposite team. That would certainly lead to some rather interesting and scathing articles in the Daily Prophet. "You leave Ginny and my mother to me," he assured Oliver, who sat up a bit as his face brightened. "Besides Ginny will understand that I am there to support you. Not that I will tell her any details of course."

The last thing he wanted was for Oliver to think that he was going to blab to his siblings, certainly didn't want him thinking that he was going to tell anyone about him crying. That would stay strictly between the two of them unless Oliver felt like others needed to know that little detail. To his surprise Oliver scoffed, wiping at his eyes though there was a small smile that settled across his lips. Giving him hope that perhaps Oliver was feeling a bit better, even though he was appalling at offering comfort to anyone. "I am sure Ginny already knows," Oliver shrugged, his lips quirking upwards at his confused expression. "Harry popped by for a visit after the Weasley family dinner on Sunday and found my parents' letter. Should have hidden it a little better but I suppose that hindsight is always 20/20. Harry never could keep anything from his soon-to-be wife so I am sure that I will be hearing from the two of them soon."

That was certainly news to him, though he figured perhaps Harry already thought he knew. His responses yesterday had been vague, simply because he hadn't known exactly what was bothering Oliver. Reasonable of Harry to assume that he did know and was simply keeping it a secret out of respect for Oliver. Either that or the kid had figured out their relationship was a rouse and he was going to get a rather unpleasant visit from Harry. That was a bridge he would cross when they came to it, for now he would assume that everyone just thought he was protecting Oliver's privacy and feelings. "He really can't," he agreed, trying to keep from sounding overly panicked. The two of them were now no longer embracing each other, finding that he rather missed the feel of Oliver in his arms. Resisting the urge to give him another lingering hug under the guise of offering additional emotional support, choosing instead to give Oliver a light punch on the shoulder that looked more like something you would give a teammate than what was appropriate when one person had just been crying. 

Sometimes he really couldn't believe how he somehow managed to get out of bed and function as a normal human being throughout the day. No one could possibly be that stupid. 

Yet, he was. He was that stupid. Stupid and unable to think of anything to say which would explain his complete ineptitude. His total lack of tact or ability to read the room and devise words and gestures that fit the overall tone of the situation. 

Oliver surprised him yet again, for what felt like at least the fifth time tonight, by letting out a loud laugh as he returned the gesture. Touching his fingertips to the spot, not because Oliver had hurt him in any way but merely because his skin tingled. A pleasant sensation that he wished to hang onto for just a minute more as he watched Oliver glance at his watch with a groan as his face morphed into a grimace. "Nearly one in the morning," Oliver sounded pained at the observation. "You and I are going to hate ourselves in a few hours when we drag our weary arses out of bed and face the day."

"Bet you have to get up earlier than I do," he grinned cheekily, earning him an eyeroll and a jealous look as Oliver regarded him. The jealous look turning into one of curiosity, a look that made him wonder what in the world Oliver could be thinking at this moment. 

"Yes, yes," Oliver huffed, standing up with great fanfare. Ensuring that it was well known what a truly arduous task this was, a truly massive amount of effort required to achieve the end result. "You are going to be somewhat well rested while I will be dragging my arse to practice at an obscene hour of the morning. Rub it in why don't you?" offering one of his hands which he took, allowing himself to be pulled into a standing position until he was practically nose to nose with Oliver who showed no signs of stepping back.

Well, if he wasn't going to then neither would he. 

"You're a Quidditch player," he remarked, too busy committing this moment to memory to worry about something as menial as finishing his sentence. Oliver still had hold of one of his hands, his other arm had snaked its way around his waist pulling him just a smidge closer than he already was. The touch was light, careful, tentative in a way that made him feel as if he was made of glass or perhaps of fire. That was how he felt about Oliver, as though he was standing too close to a flame. Warmed by his mere presence, comforted in a way he had never known which left him yearning for more. Wanting to get closer to him yet aware that he was nervous at the same time, fearful that getting too close would burn him. Unable to stay away, the need for that burning warmth overpowering any fear or hesitancy that reared its ugly head.   

He certainly wasn't an idiot. 

He knew what all of that meant, but he wasn't ready to confront it quite yet. Content to simply be held by Oliver's strong arms, his heartbeat keeping a steady rhythm against his chest that perfectly matched that of Oliver's. 

Wishing that he didn't have to eventually return to the real world, that he could stay here in this moment. Have it play on repeat, an endless loop that would allow him to stay in the surrounding comfort that he currently felt. Knowing that eventually it would all have to end. Oliver would leave for the evening and he would be alone yet again with his thoughts. 

Not yet though, for a few more moments he could hang onto this feeling. Hang onto Oliver. 

Chapter Text

"They don't cancel other plans, have conversation with nothing but their eyes. They don't hear each other's names and forget to concentrate, hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite. Friends don't call you in the middle of the night, couldn't even tell you why they just felt like saying hi. Friends don't stand around playing with their keys finding reasons not to leave, trying to hide the chemistry."  Maddie & Tae- Friends Don't

He looked forward to the day, hopefully in the near future, when he wouldn't have quite so much to deal with. 

At least things seemed to be shifting from his overly complicated internal conflicts, all of which revolved around a certain Puddlemere United keeper whose presence constantly lingered in the back of his mind, to more external issues.

The deadline for turning in the official application to be considered for the department head was about a week or so away, once the applications were in then his current boss would publicly announce the candidates, interviews would begin as well as projects being submitted. If he made it through that round, then he would complete another set of interviews before he found out which candidate had been chosen for the position. While several people in his department murmured their intentions of submitting an application, he wasn't sure how many of them would actually follow through. His own desire to be head of his department had not been publicly stated as of yet, he was keeping that information close to his chest for now. 

It was better this way, less time for people to try and intimidate him into backing out of the idea altogether. While he had no such intentions, he also remembered what it was like to work for the Ministry during the war and for the first few months after the fall of Voldemort. His relationship with his co-workers shifted during that time, as he quickly made his way through the ranks, he stopped being Percy Weasley and became the enemy in a way. Since that time, he worked tirelessly to cultivate a good professional relationship with not only those in his department but also others throughout the Ministry. To put some action behind his words that he truly had changed from the career and power obsessed seventeen-year-old who was simply given too much responsibility and sway far too quickly. Allowed that influence to go to his head. 

Knowing a shift was possible when his intentions to try and become the next head of the Department of Magical Transportation were announced. Once his aspirations were made official, he would either become competition to the others or their potential new boss. Either way he would have to hold his head high and weather this new storm, hopefully one that was short lived and low in intensity.  

While stressful at least his work-related woes all had somewhat clear solutions. Something he was eternally grateful for since he spent the better part of the past two days mulling over every single touch and conversation between him and Oliver since he showed up unexpectantly on the man's doorstep. No matter how many times he ran through everything he still couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment he began to think of Oliver differently, no longer just the person he brought with him to functions as his date. 

Now Oliver was far more than just a permanent date to him, not entirely sure exactly what he was quite yet. Friend didn't seem to encompass every emotion and thought he had about Oliver, yet anything more than friend didn't quite seem right either. Anything more than just a friend was uncharted territory, terrifying and confusing but somehow exciting and pushing him outside of his comfort zone- in a good way he decided. Were it left entirely up to him he wasn't sure he would ever meet someone, preferring to spend most of his nights sitting on his couch in front of a roaring fire while curled up in a blanket with a good book or perhaps a puzzle.

According to Penny he was the very definition of a hermit, the only way he was going to ever meet a man was if one materialized in his flat, either through the floo network or apparation. At the suggestion he had snorted derisively at the time, the thought of someone popping into his flat had amused him, though unlikely in his eyes. The only people who ever came to visit were his family members or Penny, no strange men appearing as if from nowhere. Perhaps when he told Penny of his Monday night, he would simply leave out the part where Oliver invited himself over and gave him a fright in the process. No need to give Penny a big head or the perception she had in fact been correct, up until Oliver came back into his life his dating prospects had been bleak at best. 

It wasn’t as if he never wanted to be in a committed relationship, exactly. He had simply wanted his career in a good place before he cautiously eased himself into the dating world, ensuring his life slowly came together one piece at a time. Dating and relationships weren’t things he was naturally knowledgeable in, especially since he was only recently publicly acknowledging the fact that he was gay. Sort of difficult to be in a committed long-term relationship if no one could know you are dating. He certainly hadn't wanted that, spending years stuffed into a closet of his own making while continuously glancing over his shoulder. Nervous and afraid. Terrified someone, anyone, would find out he was in a relationship with a man. Never being able to go out in public together or meeting each other's friends or family. Such a situation certainly wasn't fair to him, definitely not fair to the man he was dating. 

No, he wanted to be out... well, now he was out. 

He stared down at his copy of the Daily Prophet and sipped his morning tea. Flipping to page six, he came face-to-face with a rather striking image of the man in question. A mixture of emotions churning in his gut as he stared down at Oliver's warm brown eyes, the ever-present manic glint evident even though it was just a stock photo they used from the photo shoot when Oliver had been named captain. A fact he only knew because he spent an hour or so on the phone with the man last night, lending a sympathetic ear as he listened to him groan about his upcoming photoshoot with the captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Apparently, Oliver hadn't understood why they couldn't just use the stock photos they already had access to from the yearly team photoshoot, the ones he had been forced to take when named captain, or his numerous ones from different brand deals. When he learned Oliver was ranting to him about this while applying a soothing facial mask in preparation, he hadn't stopped laughing for a least ten minutes. 

Scanning the article quickly, he was relieved to see it was kind, the author had some strong opinions about the old captain retiring when the finals were only a few months away but nothing which called into question Oliver's leadership abilities or his skill on the pitch. At least that was something. Had the article in any way insinuated Oliver wasn't the right person for the job then the editors and staff at the Daily Prophet would have found themselves on the receiving end of a flurry of strongly worded rebuttals. Detailed outlines of every single way Oliver was most certainly the most qualified member of Puddlemere United, the obvious choice. Destined to become one of the most popular players in the team's history, if not one of the most influential. Not just on the pitch but certainly off the pitch as well. 

Oliver had been one of the first professional Quidditch players to come out as openly gay, absorbed the brunt of the homophobic and snide comments to pave the way for other players to do the same. Gave quite a bit of his salary to charities in both the wizarding and muggle world which focused their efforts on reaching out to LGBTQ youth in their communities, attending events as a guest and speaking as an advocate. Working tirelessly to allow younger players to not go through the same experiences, create a more welcoming and open environment in a career not known for its tolerance of people who were different. Those who didn't exude the expected amount of toughness, or at least what was perceived as toughness. Quite frankly Oliver was perhaps one of the toughest people he knew. What he learned Monday night had simply added to his perception, certainly had not appeared to him as weakness in any way. 

While jarring to see Oliver get so upset about his parents it was also comforting in a way. Proof that the trust and familiarity between them was still there, even it would take a bit of time to get back to the level of friendship they had before the war. A lot happened since they were eighteen and he knew it wouldn't be an overnight process. He couldn't just snap his fingers and everything would be magically forgiven, that part- the rebuilding of the trust, would be a long and at times slow process. Thankfully Oliver was nothing if not naturally forgiving, which somewhat sped up the path towards a fully reconciled friendship. 

But that was also where the issue lay currently. 

Oliver was almost more than a friend. 

He almost asked Oliver to stay the night on Monday. Almost allowed himself to be held by Oliver's strong arms all night long. Almost leaned in and let fate take care of the rest. Almost let the fire burning between the two of them consume him. 

Almost had feelings for Oliver Wood. 

What he needed to know was, did Oliver almost have feelings for him?

A question he had been pondering for quite a few days now, Oliver's silence on the subject was both infuriating and a little confusing. Of the two of them Oliver had always been the more honest one, the most likely to just come out and say what he was thinking. That brashness was something he came to admire in his friend during their schooldays, wishing he could have the courage to just speak his mind about different subjects. Not really bothering to take the time and consider the consequences of his actions, when it came to Oliver there was no weighing of his words carefully before he spoke. When Oliver wanted you to know something then you knew it. 

Which called into question whether he was getting into the territory of potentially unrequited feelings. A possibility which made him want to crawl under a rock and hide for the rest of his life. That was the absolute last thing he needed, to become the giant idiot who came up with the idea to fake date someone then fell madly in love with said person who simply looked at him as a friend. The irony of such a situation would certainly send him into a spiral, the likes of which he might never recover from. 

No, the best thing for him to do at the moment was simply play it cool. Oliver certainly wasn't rushing into anything, so he would simply follow his lead. Take things slow, something they had unofficially agreed upon. 

"Admiring your sexy boyfriend?" one of his coworkers asked him from over his shoulder. Turning around sharply he was met with the grinning face of Flora, one of his few colleagues he didn't actually mind. The two of them would often get coffee or tea during a mid-morning break and occasionally would grab lunch from a café nearby. Enjoying her company because she also had a vested interest in magical transport related accidents, especially when those accidents were caused by the misuse of broomsticks. A passion they both shared, it helped that she was incredibly sharp and well-spoken, two things he tended to value in a colleague. 

"It's not my fault the Prophet insists on plastering his grinning face all over the sports' section," he quipped with a grin of his own, feeling a bit more lighthearted today which had nothing to do with the fact that it was Wednesday which meant he got to see Oliver tonight. 

Flora pouted at him, attempting to hide a grin of her own. "Awww, poor baby! You have a gorgeous boyfriend who also happens to be a famous Quidditch player. Must be such a tough life to be forced to stare lovingly at his picture while sipping your morning tea at your desk."

"It's a tough job but someone has to do it," he said coolly as he took a sip, mainly to hide his smile. "And I wasn't staring lovingly at him. I was simply ensuring the article wasn't smearing his good name through the mud. Call it 'quality control' if you will."

He grinned when he got Flora to throw her head back and laugh. It felt rather like an accomplishment - him, the studious bookworm, getting one of his co-workers to enjoy speaking with him so much so that she actually laughed. He wasn't exactly used to being well-liked. Something he had grown used to over the years, learning to be content with his lot in life. The only two people at Hogwarts who genuinely enjoyed his company had been Oliver and Penny. While well-known and tolerated, most of the others in their year only spoke to him because he was always willing to share his extensive notes on their professors' lectures as well as tutor them when needed. A fact Oliver had always been quick to point out to others, much to his outward dismay, though internally he loved it when he let others have it. It made him feel special, important enough that the popular and generally beloved captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team thought him a good enough friend to stand up for him unprompted when he was being taken advantage of. 

"What are you both talking about?" Blair's falsely chipper voice sounded, right as she rounded the corner into view. Making a b-line for the two of them, the only thing keeping him from bolting out the department doors was the fact that Flora discreetly rolled her eyes at him. Signaling she was not a fan of Blair, yet another thing the two of them seemed to have in common. 

"Nothing," he snapped, his voice much colder and a tad bit louder than he meant for it to be. Not bothering to apologize to his co-worker, after all it had been the Rita Skeeter article published after the Ministry party which ruined his plan to tell his parents he was gay. While he wasn't entirely convinced hearing the news from him first would have changed very much, it would have at least softened the blow. Certainly, would have kept his parents and his entire family from piling in on poor Oliver who had been just as blindsided as they were. No, he decided. Blair was not deserving of a civilized tone. 

Not that Blair took any notice of his sneer, peering over his shoulder while he attempted to hide the newspaper to keep her from seeing the exact article he was reading. A grin spread across her face as she nudged his shoulder as if they were the best of mates, something they were decidedly not. "Big game coming up in about a week or so huh?" Blaire's voice sounded in his ear, making his skin crawl in the same way chalk squeaking against a chalkboard at Hogwarts would have produced, setting his teeth on edge. 

"Yeah," he muttered through gritted teeth, opting for short sentences in an attempt to keep his name out of the Daily Prophet and avoid having any details leaked to the public. It wasn't anybody's business that Oliver was nervous about his first game as captain, an emotion which was both reasonable and understandable in his opinion. Anyone with half a brain would be feeling the pressure of performing well, proving to the public that your teammates and managers made the correct choice. 

"Must be nerve-wracking," Blair pouted slightly, attempting to give him a sympathetic look. "You must simply be beside yourself with worry. I can't even imagine what you must be going through at the moment."

Folding up the paper, he leveled her with a cool look as he stuffed the Prophet in his desk drawer. Slamming the drawer shut he decided to read his article in peace later on in the day. "Why would I be worrying exactly?"

"Oh, no reason-" Blair trailed off mid-sentence, giving Flora a conspiratual look which was not returned. Either not realizing or simply not caring that Flora looked at Blair as if she was something she had just stepped in, her presence entirely unwanted and unwelcome. "I just know if it were my boyfriend who just got promoted to captain, a rather hasty decision if you ask me considering there are players with more seniority than Oliver, I might be a bit on edge. If my boyfriend was about to face his first match as captain against a team ranked just below Puddlemere and has a shot at snatching a spot in the final playoffs from them if they were to lose too many games; and if it were my boyfriend who was playing against my sister, then I might be a tad bit worried. I mean if Puddlemere loses it will be absolutely humiliating for poor little Ollie. However, if they win... well, family dinners might be slightly awkward. Wouldn't want my sister and my boyfriend to become enemies, rivals on and off the pitch."

Steam rolled off his shoulders, rivaling that of his mug of tea which was magically enchanted to remain piping hot regardless of how long it took him to drink it. A full-fledged, fire rising intensely in his chest, burning all the way up his neck and face. He felt his jaw set, his mouth a long, thin line. Gripping the mug of tea in both his hands so violently he worried it might shatter right there. Knowing if he let go, he wouldn't be able to stop his fingers from finding Blair's neck and strangling her with his bare hands.

How dare she!

Of all the- his mind faltering as he took a few deep breaths to try and collect his thoughts. Piece them together into coherent sentences so he wouldn't end up shouting and sputtering like a raving lunatic. He couldn't afford such an outburst, not this close to the application deadline. Perhaps Blair suspected his intentions, his thoughts immediately jumping to that of sabotage. A blatant attempt to force him into ruining his own chances of becoming the next head of their department. A way for her to take out people she perceived to be threat without ever having to actually do anything, impossible to prove. It was genius. No, he thought, his grip loosening on the mug. Don't think like that. It isn't going to do any good if you walk around the office for the next few weeks glancing over your shoulder to find the knife in your back. Thinking of your co-workers as people who are 'out to get you' will only hurt you in the end. Just breathe and give a calm and collected reply to her outlandish musings. 

The audacity of her to walk up to him and insinuate Oliver was chosen as captain for any reason other than he was the most obvious choice was insulting at best, coupled with the fact that she was clearly fishing for any hint of discord between Oliver the Weasley family was simply atrocious. Flora seemed to agree with his silent rant, her face tense and the corners of her mouth were twitching every so often. Eyes wide as she stared at Blair in horror, both of them too stunned to do anything but stand there. 

His own mouth opened and shut, and he was blinking rapidly, unsure of exactly how to respond. Where to even start with his counterargument against her accusations, not just about Oliver but about his little sister. Say what you will about him, but nobody messes with Ginny. At least they didn't mess with her twice. “I - um…” 

"Captains are voted on by their teammates," Flora supplied, attempting to be helpful now that she had recovered from her own shock. Arms crossed in front of her chest, her jaw still working itself. The anger and impatience evident in her tone. "I am sure Oliver was chosen simply because he was right for the job. From what I have read he and Harry Potter are fairly good mates, so I am sure he and Ginny can be adults and put aside the fact they play for different teams and have dinner together once in a while. Most of the professional players aren't even that competitive off the pitch, such behavior is usually reserved for players at Hogwarts. It is just a job to them, same way it would be for us at the Ministry. We don't hate other departments and I am sure Oliver doesn't hate other teams."

He couldn't have put it better himself, his jaw still clenched together as his traitorous mind drew a blank. Normally he could think of a retort for almost anything, pull out obscure facts regarding a subject at a moment's notice. Not right now though, the best he could come up with was to tell Blair to 'shut the bloody hell up and leave Oliver alone.' Such an approach would not be good for either one of them, he would look like an arsehole and give Blair the impression there was some truth behind her words. A situation which would not end well for Oliver, he grimaced as he imagined the articles regarding the subject popping up in every wizarding magazine. A rivalry created where there was none, sure Oliver and Ginny teased each other, but that was just their relationship. They enjoyed giving each other a hard time about Quidditch and which one of them possessed more talent. 

"I didn't mean anything by my comment," Blair's voice dripped with a false sweetness, her words practically sticking to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. "Just stating my opinion. Are you going to the match next Saturday?"

Blair's question was directed at him, sitting there for another couple of seconds while he blinked at her. "Obviously," he huffed, looking around the room, before deciding that he was sick of this interaction. Wishing that Blair would simply disappear into thin air, leave him alone so he could get back to enjoying his morning tea and reading the paper. "I wouldn't miss an opportunity to support Oliver and Ginny," an eerie calm settled over him, his voice even and pleasant. Anyone who knew him well would know this was the point when they would need to back away slowly with their hands up in surrender.

Unfortunately for Blair she did not know this about him and proceeded to push her agenda. "Excellent! Then I suppose I will see you there. I assume you have some fancy box seats to view the game but perhaps we can meet up afterwards. I just know the fans would love to read an exclusive interview about the Puddlemere United captain's new romantic relationship. Perhaps we might learn some interesting details about the oh so secretive Oliver Wood. I can arrange it you know; Rita is my cousin, and I can assure you the article will be tastefully done."

The steam was pouring off of him at this point, while he couldn't see his facial expressions judging by the panicked look on Flora's face, he knew he must have looked murderous. He should have kept his usual calm demeaner, shouldn't have allowed his composure to crack, even for a second. However, one single wink from Blair was all it took to send him over the edge. Standing up suddenly he pointed his finger at the startled woman, his voice practically growling. "You stay away from my boyfriend! He has every right to have a private life and just because the fans are interested doesn't mean they have a right to invade his personal space," his voice rising in pitch and volume and his anger bubbled up and over. Spilling out into the room, which was heavy with tension, crackling the air around him as he laid into Blair. "I will most certainly not be doing any sort of exclusive interview with you or with Rita Skeeter where I divulge intimate details of any kind. I am dating Oliver and that comes with a certain level of trust and respect, the mere suggestion of such an invasion of privacy would be a slap in the face! I cannot believe that you would ever ask such a thing of me! If either of you come anywhere near that locker room next Saturday or try and squeeze any information from any of my family members then I will have you thrown out of the match for harassment!"

There was quite a crowd now, numerous people in the department were gathering around with frowns on their faces whispering to each other. Unable to tell if they were frowning at him or at Blair, he hadn't been paying them much mind before this point. Had they heard the conversation leading up to this? Did it appear as if he just yelled at his co-worker for seemingly no reason. He was an idiot - an absolute, horrendous idiot. How could he have let his emotions overwhelm him like that? A better question was where exactly had these emotions originated from?

Something better left to be pondered for another day.  

"Rita Skeeter?" Mr. Quinn bustled over, his short, stubby legs carrying him as fast as possible across the room with his glasses slightly askew. Trying to fix them hurriedly as he made his way through the throng of people. "What is this I hear about Rita Skeeter and an article?"

Thankfully Flora stepped in quickly on his behalf, her arms firmly attached to her hips as she leveled Blair with a glare before turning her gaze to their current boss. "Blair here was just offering Percy the unique opportunity to give an exclusive interview to her cousin Rita Skeeter. Apparently, readers would be interested in learning intimate details regarding the private life of Oliver Wood. She thought her co-worker might make a rather convenient source for spilling details of his boyfriend's private life."

Mr. Quinn's face fell almost as soon as the words were out of Blair's mouth, paling significantly as he started to piece a few of the details together. Drawing himself up to his full height, still a good head or two shorter than most of the people milling about, Mr. Quinn turned to Blair with fire in his eyes. "Is this true Ms. Devlin?"

"I- I um- I was just-" Blair sputtered out, glancing around for anyone who might help her out of her current predicament. With no small amount of satisfaction, he noticed nobody came to her aide. So far everyone simply stood around in a semi-circle with varying looks of shock and disgust on their faces. Thankfully all expressions, other than sympathy, seemed to be directed at Blair, at least there was that. He hadn't become the most hated person in his department, at least right now- the day wasn't over quite yet. 

"I see-" Mr. Quinn tapped his foot against the ground. The sound reverberating against the walls as a quiet hush settled over the room. It wasn't often that Mr. Quinn became angry, however when it happened people talked about it for months. The official consensus was the site was utterly terrifying. "Come with me Ms. Devlin. The rest of you can take a half hour morning break," turning on his heel everyone watched Mr. Quinn hurry towards his office door, not bothering to check if Blair was following after him. She did of course, mainly because she was out of alternatives, a slightly frenzied air about her as she continued to try and sputter excuses. Claiming she hadn't meant it like it sounded. 

Feeling a light touch, he was met with the kind eyes of Flora, who looked at him with no small amount of sympathy. "Since we have an unexpected half an hour or so, let's go get some coffee from a nearby café," she suggested, keeping a steadying hand on his arm as she led him in the direction of the lift at the end of the long hallway. He allowed himself to be led, gave his mind time to sort through other things while someone else took over the basic tasks like ensuring he didn't trip over anything or run himself into a wall. 

The lift groaned as they ascended towards the atrium of the Ministry, staring intently at the buttons as if they held the answers to all of his ponderings. 

Everything was ruined. He had just demolished everything he worked for over the past several years in one single morning. Sabotaged his own promotion before it ever came to fruition. Everything he ever thought he wanted in life was slowly being dismantled around him and he would be left standing in the rubble. Surrounded by the remains of his own talents and aspirations. 

The odd thing was he wasn't even that upset, comparatively of course. The last time he thought his career was over he spent a solid three days in bed, of course that fear was accompanied by the added pressure of seeing his younger brother severely injured and lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Still, he was upright and not curled into a ball somewhere, so he was counting this as a win. 

Perhaps to others it would seem as if he was suffering from shock- the kind one experienced just before or just after receiving terrible news. He was calm. Eerily calm at that. He supposed it was because none of it really mattered the only things that truly mattered were his family and Oliver. 

Oliver mattered a lot. 

Oliver mattered a lot. 

Chapter Text

"Take yours, and I'll take mine. On the right hand side I'll rest, and you'll find that you take rest in mine. So take these words and make them right, so one day you and I will write our names in the sky, we'll confide. And I'll find mine on the right of your side. And I'll find mine on the right of your side. If I throw away my fear and pride to set things right. Then I'll find mine on the right of your side." Matthew Mole- Take Yours

Oliver mattered a lot.

The sentence replaying in his head on a continuous loop as he stepped off the lift and into the atrium of the Ministry, Flora's hand still firmly grasping his arm as though grounding him in the present. Adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, glancing down at his shoes as he made his way across the marble floor towards the exit to hopefully be greeted with some warm sunshine and fresh air. 

Air was key at the moment. Though the atrium was vast and spacious, he felt as if he was currently being stuffed into a tiny room where the walls were closing in on him at a rapidly alarming rate. What he needed was wide open spaces and air, quickly. 

The reality of the situation hitting him as if it were a wave, knocking him backwards and leaving him gasping for breath. His career was over, the career he worked so hard to rebuild after everything. Surviving the fallout from the inquiry after discovering Crouch was under the imperious curse for months while all of the responsibilities of the Tri-Wizard Tournament were handed down to him, the downfall of Fudge after the return of Voldemort was made known, the murder of Scrimgeour, that horrible year working in deatheater run Ministry where he was "interrogated" on more than one occasion, and having to suffer the humiliation of starting all over again after the war. Working his way up slowly from the bottom to prove he was just like everyone else and nothing like the deatheaters who infiltrated and overthrew the Ministry. 

Not that he had ever been a deatheater. While he may have made some mistakes, he could say with all honesty that joining the ranks of Voldemort's inner circle never once occurred to him. He would never stoop that low and he never supported their blood supremacy propaganda.  

None of that matters any more though considering it's all over, once he goes back into that office he will be promptly fired. Not even allowed to gather up his things, escorted out of the Ministry by some of the aurors and the contents of his desk owled to him at a later date.

Oh Merlin! What if Harry Potter is one of the aurors assigned to throw him out. That would only add additional insult and mortification to his already abysmal situation. 

"Do you want to go to the new cafe just around the corner?" Flora asked, her voice hesitant as she glanced at him warily. Soundly oddly muffled as it worked its way through his swirling thoughts, pulling him out of his downward spiral towards a mental breakdown. "I hear they have over 100 options for coffee drinks."

Nodding his head dumbly, he allowed himself to be led out of the Ministry and down the crowded streets of Muggle London, closely following Flora's dark auburn hair as she expertly dodged the people rushing past them. Taking a deep breath, he was reminded that while he needed air, perhaps he didn't need the air of central London which was heavy with car exhaust as the vehicles zoomed past them. A few coughs later and he waved his hand in front of his face, fully recovered from his previous state of shock. "While I enjoy the convenience of London the air quality could certainly use some work," he grumbled more to himself than anything, letting his bad mood settle over him as he didn't see the point in trying to pretend he was having a good time so close to finding out he no longer had steady employment. 

"Perhaps Oliver will take you to a park later on," Flora quipped at him, chancing a grin which he attempted to return before abandoning the endeavor and settling for his previous scowl. Still staring at him as they made their way to order their coffee and perhaps a muffin, her eyes were soft and tender, radiating a sympathy towards him. "You know everything is going to be ok, right? I mean you didn't really do anything to warrant any disciplinary action. Blair shouldn't have pushed you like she did."

"I know," he mumbled miserably, walking into the small cafe and staring in horror at the massive menu before him. Flora really wasn't kidding when she said this place had over 100 options, it would take somebody years to try all of the possible combinations. Would likely take him years just to decide what he wanted. 

Flora chuckled warmly at him as he attempted to peruse the menu for something that caught his eye, even with his glasses on he had to squint as the writing was rather tiny. Cursing his abysmal eyesight which plagued him since early childhood, never quite understanding how magic could cure many ailments but he still couldn't get perfect vision even with the help of his glasses sporting a rather strong prescription. 

After a few minutes of deliberation, he settled on a French vanilla latte and a cinnamon stick muffin, not the most adventurous of coffee orders but he figured given his excitement this morning that he was due for a bit of boring predictability. His day was starting to look up since Flora bought his order for him, on the off chance he managed to keep his current position he would simply return the favor at a later date. 

While waiting for their order he watched as the barista made Flora's blueberry cobbler Frappuccino and marveled at her ability to process such massive amounts of sugar this early in the morning. Were it him, he would have to drink something like that on a day where he had nothing else to do and follow it up with a hearty meal to stabilize his spiking blood sugar. 

His co-worker seemed to have no such concerns, as soon as her name was called, she took a massive sip of her Frappuccino then smacked her lips with a satisfying sigh. Holding out her drink in a silent offer to let him try some, shaking his head politely, savoring the warmth and slight bitterness of the rather simple coffee. Not wanting to muddle up his tastebuds by shocking them with such a rich drink. Glancing down at her watch Flora grinned over at him. "We have nearly twenty minutes before we have to be back at the office. Want to take the long way back? Perhaps get you some of that fresh air you were grumbling about earlier." 

Returning her grin, he nodded his head as he took a long, slow sip of his coffee, relishing the feel of the cool spring air on his face as they walked back out onto the sidewalk.

Everything he thought before was a lie. Now that he had a warm cup of coffee in his hands and a rather delicious muffin he was happily munching on, the world seemed just a bit brighter than it had a few minutes before. The doom and gloom which hung over him dissipated as he focused instead on the feel of the sunshine, which was peeking out briefly from behind some clouds, making him wonder if perhaps it would rain later on today. 

Oliver would know, one of the many perks of being the keeper's best mate, that boy always seemed to know when it was about to rain. During Hogwarts they joked it was some sort of manifestation of latent powers of Divination, more than likely it was due to his obsession with Quidditch. When you spend as many hours outside as Oliver does then you tend to be able to pick up on the signs of impending rain. He rather missed his morning weather reports, wishing he hadn't rolled his eyes quite so much during their seven years as dormmates.

The weather reports could become rather dramatic at times, something which would have been rather funny to witness if it weren't for the insanely early hour, Oliver delivered them. Continuing to hold out hope his best mate would wait until after Quidditch practice to give him a detailed summary of what the day held for the two of them.

There was a tiny park not far from the Ministry where on warm days many of the employees could be found on break either enjoying the lunch they brought with them or sampling one of the many food venders who sat waiting for their next customer. He always enjoyed this park, a sort of oasis where he could retreat in the middle of the day for a bit of fresh air and perhaps people watch or simply read a good book for a few minutes before heading back inside. While the "windows" inside the Ministry were enchanted to display the current weather there was still the knowledge it was all an illusion, no matter how realistic the image might look it couldn't compare to natural light. 

Something which after a few years one starts to miss during their workday. Especially when stuck in a cubicle for a full eight-hours, some actual windows might be nice so they could open them to let in a cool breeze every once in a while. While he understood the need for secrecy to keep the wizarding world from becoming common knowledge he also felt, at times, the statute of secrecy could be taken a bit far. Move the Ministry to a building with above ground floors protected by numerous wards and one could achieve both goals, natural light along with a slight breeze during the workday and avoiding detection by muggles. 

Try bringing that idea before the Wizengamot however and he would find himself laughed out of the building. 

Feeling Flora's elbow nudging gently against his ribs he turned his head to find her smiling pensively to herself. "I'm proud of you."

"For what?" he cocked his head curiously, in his mind he hadn't necessarily done anything of note. Simply informed Blair that she was to leave him and his family alone, had it been one of his siblings the confrontation would have ended in a spectacular way. Especially if the twins or Ginny had been involved, trying to imagine himself leaving in the same way the twins had when they dropped out of Hogwarts. Unable to see him mounting a broom and flying off into the horizon in an explosion of fireworks, leaving behind mass chaos in his wake. Definitely not, the best he might be able to muster up would be to deliver a hearty "fuck you" to Blair, accompanied by a double bird.

Even then he would spend the next several hours shaking and would probably apologize for his atrocious behavior. He was certainly nothing like his other siblings. 

"The old Percy would never have put his foot down and stood his ground," Flora raised an eyebrow at him, giving him an appraising look as though she was seeing him for the first time. "I like this new version of you-" grinning at him she poked him in the side causing him to yelp as he focused on not dropping his coffee all over the pavement. "He has a bit more bite than before."

Collecting himself he straightened his clothes importantly, swiping at the invisible wrinkles he believed marred his otherwise perfect outfit. "Hate to break it to you but there is no new or old Percy. Just the same person I have always been. Never changing, as steady as the foundation of Hogwarts itself."

"I have to respectfully disagree," Flora snorted, her smile growing as he grinned at her. "Several of your colleagues are in agreement with me. You have been different since you showed up to the Ministry party with that hunk of a Quidditch player on your arm. All smiling and flirting with each other, don't think I didn't see how Oliver looked at you when you were distracted. His eyes all lovestruck, like you hung the moon and the stars. It was cute, but the real magic is how you have been acting since then. More confident in yourself, head held higher, a bounce in your step. Like the Percy Weasley who strode into the Ministry for your first interview at seventeen. It's nice honestly. You deserve to be happy."

"That seems to be a very popular opinion lately," he huffed out, bristling at the painful reminder of his conversation with both Charlie and Penny. They both said something similar to him, it wasn't easy though. He couldn't just magically turn off nearly twenty-five years of self-loathing and doubt. These things took time, and he wasn't quite prepared for the amount of soul searching and time spent working on himself such an endeavor would require. Perhaps he would add it to his to-do list after the search for the new head of the department was finished. 

Thankfully Flora seemed to catch onto the fact this was a conversation better left tabled for another day as they continued their walk back to the Ministry in amicable silence. Enjoying the sounds of spring which quickly turned into the honking of cars and dim chatter of strangers as they neared what looked an abandoned warehouse, making their way to the alleyway so they could slip in the employee entrance. That had been one of the upgrades after the war, one which he felt really elevated the experience of being a Ministry employee. No longer having to use the public restroom to literally flush themselves down the toilet, now they could use an actual entrance as long as they had their badges on them and went in one at a time.

Watching the arrow on the inside of the lift with the accompanying numbers as they descended to their floor, he felt the feeling of dread returning, the tension returning to his shoulders. When the doors opened, he thought of gripping onto the opening as Flora tried to drag him out, a descent round of screaming and general carrying on and perhaps he would be able to wiggle his way out of this one. 

He had to be stronger than Flora, he thought to himself as the woman in question grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forcefully out of the lift. Perhaps not so much, but he could make a run for it. Get back to the lift and perhaps even make it to the atrium before she caught up to him. Otherwise, he could just get off at a random floor and play hide and seek while Flora tried to hunt him down. He could do it. Oliver did it once at Hogwarts when he had an adverse reaction to some skele-grow that Madame Pomfrey gave him for a badly broken arm due to a bludger accident in practice their third year. When she left him alone, he made a run for it in his drug addled state and it took her and the other heads of houses almost three hours to track him down, granted it ended up that he had simply fallen asleep after wedging himself into a rather tight space. Remembering a rather disgruntled McGonagall carrying his sleeping form back to the infirmary, when he woke up the next morning, he had no recollection of the incident. He could do that, wedge himself into a tight little corner of the Department of Mysteries. It would take them years to find him, and Penny would probably help by leaving food out for him. That could work. He would be a fugitive, living out the rest of the life outside of the law.  

Unfortunately, while he was figuring out the logistics of said plan Flora managed to drag him to the double doors leading to the Department of Transportation. Feeling the color drain from his face as he stared unmoving at the doors, on the other side held his fate and he wasn't sure he could actually go through with this next part. 

"Come on," Flora hissed in his ear, nudging him forward. "You don't want to be late."

He did. He did want to be late. What good would being on time do him in this instance? Early, on time, late; it didn't matter. Any way he looked at this situation it always ended the same, he would be fired. Leaving the building in disgrace, unable to face the shame it would bring to the Weasley name. Ostracized from wizarding society, his name only said in hushed whispers like some curse. What would he do for employment? He could always beg his twin brothers for a job in their shop, perhaps Oliver's team had an opening he might be suited for. He would prefer working for Oliver rather than the twins. He would call up Oliver first and see what options he had available. 

"Merlin's beard!" Flora moaned from behind him, giving a rather large shove as he stumbled through the doorway and into the place he worked every day for the past few years. Pausing to gather his balance he glanced around and saw several groups of people all milling about, whispering to each other. Everyone seemed to be waiting on something and he had a rather good idea what that something might be. 

"Weasley!" Mr. Quinn greeted him, standing with several other Ministry officials he recognized from the party. "Glad your back a few minutes early. Come with me to my office, there are a few things we need to discuss after this morning's events."

His stomach dropped as he searched Mr. Quinn's face for any signs of what was to come. Finding nothing of note to give him any clue he figured there was nothing to do but follow him, each step was difficult as though his feet were made of stone. The hallway before them growing longer with each foot he put in front of the other. Like some sort of nightmare, the one where you run away from something chasing you; but you can't seem to run fast enough, and you never reach your destination. Knowing whatever is behind you is gaining ground; closer and closer. However, this time it was different. 

One, he was fairly certain he wasn't dreaming. Very much awake, though he couldn't exactly test the theory at this very moment. Two, the thing he was trying to get away from wasn't behind him but rather in front of him. He didn't want to go into that office where a silencing charm could be used and there would be no witnesses. 

An irrational fear left over from the war, yet another scar which might never truly heal. 

"Don't worry Mr. Weasley," Mr. Quinn mumbled out the side of his mouth, leaning in slightly closer to him as though he could feel the terror trembling through his muscles. "This is just a de-briefing on what we managed to learn from Ms. Devlin. Apparently, we have found our source who leaked to that Rita Skeeter woman. Though, I supposed you already worked that out for yourself," Quinn clapped him on the shoulder as he opened the office door. "Just have a seat inside and I will be right in. Just need to finish discussing a few of the details then we will begin this little meeting."

He was often described as being cold and detached, or if you were to ask his younger siblings you might learn he was a giant prat who was obsessed with following the rules and cared for little else. Both assessments were wrong in his opinion. He cared a great deal about his family, his friends, and his co-workers. 

While he might not readily display his emotions, preferring to keep his feelings and thoughts close to himself rather than wearing them on his sleeve for the entire world to see, that didn't mean he was void of them entirely. 

Especially when he was confronted with a sobbing person. Especially when said person was sobbing because of something he had a hand in, no matter how small or large his part may have been. 

He felt bad for Blair, who was sitting in the chair next to him with her blonde hair coming undone in a messy updo and mascara streaking down her face. Her nose looked raw on the tip from blowing it so much and her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. In general, she looked disheveled as she sat cross legged in the chair, her normally pristine silk blouse and pencil skirt wrinkled and slightly askew. Not really knowing what he could do in this situation to fix it, short of taking the full blame which wouldn't exactly work. He hadn't had anything to do with the leaked pictures or the article, certainly had not invited Blair to converse with him and Flora. 

Still, there was a layer of guilt which settled itself over him. Weighing him down as he listened to Blair's sniffles while waiting for Mr. Quinn to come back into the room and begin the meeting. The old Percy would have already broken down under the pressure and assured the powers that be this was all his fault. Later on in the evening telling himself, 'he had no choice,' for one reason or another he was the one who would have to put aside what he wanted or needed for the benefit of others. According to Oliver he did have a choice and he was allowed to set boundaries with other people, he figured now was as good a time as any to attempt at putting that into practice. 

While he wouldn't push Blair off the broom to serve his own selfish interests, he would also not cave to the pressure of trying to fix this situation. No matter how tempting that option might seem in the short-term nor how close to breaking out into nervous hives he currently was. Already starting to feel the faint itch beneath his crisp button-down shirt as he settled his attention on anything else other than the phantom burning sensation working its way up his torso. 

In front of them sat a rather severe looking woman whom he recognized from the Department of Internal Affairs, her suit plain and well-tailored which perfectly complimented her tight bun and angled face. Reminding him of a younger Professor McGonagall, though while McGonagall might have been strict, she was at times warm and willing to give her students the encouragement they needed. Something he wasn't sure this woman would be capable of, her demeaner seeming to be more in line with that of the late Professor Snape rather than his former head of house. 

The sound of the door swinging open suddenly caused both him and Blair to jump a bit in their seats as Mr. Quinn, Mr. Crawford, Minister Shacklebolt, and several others strode in to take their seats. 

"Now," Mr. Quinn began, gesturing to the stern looking woman who gave little indication she wasn't some sort of statue instead of a human being. "This is Mrs. Henderson from the Department of Internal Affairs, and she will be overseeing this little meeting. We want to first start by clearing up any little rumors circulating about people being fired, I can assure both of you that neither of you will be fired today. However, I want to ensure Ms. Devlin understands the seriousness of this matter. Aiding and abetting a journalist in obtaining pictures from a Ministry event which was closed to press and providing intimate details of one of your colleague's personal relationships is not a matter which will be taken lightly."

A few sniffles from Blair as she nodded her head in understanding before Mr. Quinn continued on with his explanation, his gaze never leaving Blair's face. "I want to allow Mrs. Henderson the opportunity to explain the full extent of your actions and how it has affected many of your colleagues as well as the Ministry as a whole."

When Mrs. Henderson opened her mouth to speak, her voice was exactly as he imagined it would be. Prim and proper, her syllables clipped, and her words chosen with care with no unnecessary words needed to make her point. 

At the sound of his name, he felt the heat creeping up his neck and burning its way across his cheeks. It was one of the things he hated most about his complexion, the tendency to betray every time he was even the slightest bit embarrassed or anxious. While others might be able to disguise their discomfort in a situation, he had no such ability. Even if he could keep his expression neutral and his voice calm and even, it was his pale, freckled skin which would always give him away. The blotchy redness starting at the base of his neck and working its way up until he resembled a ripe tomato, no matter how many times Oliver or Penny told him that it really wasn't bad he never quit believed them. To him it was the most noticeable thing in the entire world, and he was sure everyone in the room was aware now of his feelings on the matter at hand. 

Aware of his shame and humiliation regarding the article and how it affected his relationship with his family members. While he wasn't ashamed of Oliver or even of being gay in general, he certainly hadn't wanted his family to find out that way. Thankfully his siblings liked Oliver and didn't seem to really care that he was romantically interested in men. Being openly gay was still new territory to him, terrifying at times. What really bothered him was the choice being taken away from him. The choice to choose when and how he came out to his family or to others in the Wizarding World. 

Yes, that was what had been nagging at the back of his mind this entire time. He simply wanted to retain the choice to come out to people when and how he wanted. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Henderson, for explaining this matter so thoroughly," Mr. Crawford nodded at the women who proceeded to go back to her rather accurate impression of a statue, perfectly manicured hands returning to their resting position in her lap and her ankles crossed, her back remaining impossibly straight. "I would also like to add that we received several anonymous tips regarding Ms. Devlin's relationship with Rita Skeeter-"

Feeling Blair giving him the side-eye he didn't exactly understand what was happening at this moment, trying not to let his avoidance of her eyes come across as an admission of guilt. He hadn't tipped off anyone regarding Blair's relationship to Rita Skeeter, certainly had considered the option but in the end decided against it for one reason or another. Definitely in keeping with the 'old Percy' as Flora described it, racking his brain to figure out who would have known this information. Figuring perhaps Blair told some of his other co-workers who simply connected the dots and assumed the article was a direct result of Skeeter being her cousin and her offer to him at the party for an exclusive interview. 

He felt as if he was sitting in the stands at a Quidditch game, watching the action from afar but not really being an active participant in anything. His name being thrown around quite a bit but being given no opportunity to speak for himself on the matter while his body continued to feel heavy with indecision and his mind going fuzzy around the edges. Feeling his face continuing to burn with each mention of his or Oliver's names. 

What he wanted was to put this whole mess behind him- get back to normal. Well, perhaps not the same normal he had been living the past few years, but something similar without the paralyzing numbness he felt these past few years. 

A cough sounded from Minister Shacklebolt, causing him to sit up a bit straighter in his rather uncomfortable chair. Unconsciously fussing with his dark blue suit, complete with cream button down shirt and coordinating tie. Blue complimented his eyes according to Oliver and since he was seeing the man in question this evening, he chose his outfit with more care than normal, ensuring he looked his absolute best. 

For no other reason than he enjoyed seeing the corners of Oliver's eyes crinkle as he grinned at him. The man did have a nice smile. 

"Step outside for a minute Ms. Devlin," Minister Shacklebolt stated, not asked in a voice which did not leave any room for disobedience. While he got along with the current Minister of Magic he could see in this moment why he was picked to guard the Muggle Prime Minister during the war, the man could be terrifying when he wanted to be. Something that Blair seemed to agree with, scurrying from the room with no protests, probably just thankful to no longer be in this office.

An office he was now stuck in alone with several of his superiors, all of whom were staring straight at him. 

He breathed out hard and unclenched his jaw. Trying to keep the others in the room from knowing the extent of his nervousness by sitting on his trembling hands, wishing he had a cup of coffee or a quill to occupy his hands and his mind. 

Preparing for the absolute worse he was sure was about to come. 

"Mr. Weasley," Mr. Quinn spoke first, his voice breaking the oppressive silence which settled over the office. Thankful his direct boss was the one who might deliver whatever punishment was coming to him, he always had a way of softening things. At least he wasn't going to be fired, anything else he might be able to handle after taking a few days to decompress. "I want to extend my sincerest apologies for the events of this morning. We hope the incident with the Daily Prophet will not be happening again now that we have found and dealt with the source. Of course, I will be reaching out personally to the management of Puddlemere United to let them know this as well. While the managers were understanding of our little snafu, we don't want to take any chances. Mr. Wood is a popular player, and we certainly wouldn't want anything being published which would sully his good reputation nor yours for that matter. Certainly, wouldn't want that either."

He nodded his head, his attention split in two directions. While he should be focused on the present moment, he couldn't help but be worried that Oliver had not been fully honest with him. The last thing he wanted was for Oliver to get in trouble with his managers because of something he asked him to do. Adding that to his growing things he needed to bring up at some point with the man. 

"As for your behavior Mr. Weasley," Mrs. Henderson spoke in her clipped voice, hands never leaving her lap. "We will be distributing pamphlets in the morning as a refresher course in inter-personal relationships within the Ministry. As a reminder on professionalism in the workplace. That is all, you may leave now."

He stared at them for a long moment, blinking slowly. That can't be it. Can it?

"I can leave now?" he asked lamely, not having the energy at the moment to care that he sounded like an absolute idiot and probably looked ridiculous as he sat there in a stupor. 

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Mrs. Henderson said slowly, as though he was some simpleton who needed things repeated to him twice. "You may leave now."

The blinking continued as he remained rooted in his seat. "I can leave now?"

"Come on Weasley," Mr. Quinn jumped to his rescue, already making his way to the door so he could open it for him. "Quite a shocking morning, I am sure. Well, no worries. I spoke with Kingsley already and he agreed that letting everyone just take the day off would be best. Start again tomorrow morning with a fresh perspective. That is the key with these sorts of things. Just putting everything in the past and moving forward."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," he politely replied, nodding his head at Mr. Quinn and the others in the room before slipping into the large common office area.

The meaning behind the words was not lost on him, a gentle reminder that any further issues between himself and Blair will not be handled so nicely. He didn't have to be told twice. There was no way he would be doing anything else which would put his career aspirations in jeopardy. 

Not that he planned on letting Blair or anyone else say whatever they wanted about him, his family, or Oliver for that matter. Things would simply be handled more 'diplomatically' from here. Channeling the Percy Weasley who successfully managed to fly under the radar in deatheater run Ministry while no longer supporting the Minister of Magic nor the direction he was taking the Ministry as a whole. 

He could be a force to be reckoned with when he wanted to be and what he currently wanted was to be named the next head of the Department of Transportation. What he wouldn't do was stoop to the point of sabotage. 

Even after everything he had been through, his morals remained intact. 

By the time he was released from the office the news of Blair's punishment had already spread throughout the department. While she had been allowed to keep her employment with the Ministry she would receive three formal disciplinary write-ups, effectively making her ineligible for a promotion for a full year which meant she could not be in the running for head of the department and would be expected to deliver written apologies for her behavior to both him and Oliver.

Certain that Oliver would be simply thrilled to receive an apology from Blair, already imagining the scathing remarks he would deliver when the time came. Making a mental note to ensure he spoke to him when it happened, the man could be quite funny. Not that he was going to let Oliver know this, he wouldn't want to encourage such behavior.  

He should be relieved that he came out of the situation completely unscathed. Not even so much as a verbal warning for his own behavior this morning. However, all he could manage to feel was the sense of overwhelming guilt and trepidation. 

This wasn't helped by the small gaggle of women who gathered around a still sniffling Blair and threw him glares which suggested they would like to use an unforgiveable curse on him if given the opportunity. Gathering up his briefcase and a few reports he needed to finish editing as Mr. Quinn made the announcement that everyone, excluding Blair, could have an unexpected day off. Granted they agreed to come back tomorrow ready to work and face the day anew. 

"Blair's little minions look positively murderous," Flora said very quietly, looking up at them briefly through half-narrowed eyes as she returned their murderous looks with one of her own. Had she not been at work she would have provided a dose of foul language and a few middle fingers to accompany the gesture. 

"Don't engage with them," he said, almost inaudibly in case anyone was trying to overhear their conversation. 

"Don't worry," Flora waved her hand flippantly at him, gesturing for several others to join them. "I have been running some recon missions while you were in your meeting and the majority of people are on your side. Apparently, Blair has been running her mouth about what a 'great story the normally private Oliver Wood will make.' Most of the people around here think that exploiting her co-worker's relationship for an article is a pretty shitty thing to do. Plus, several people have met Oliver before and remarked at what a sweet little person he truly is."

He couldn't argue with that. Oliver was perhaps the sweetest person you would ever meet. Always willing to stop and talk to a fan and was likely to give an autograph if you asked nicely, even if he was just simply trying to run an errand. "He's ok, I suppose," he answered with a small smile, causing Flora to snort as she slung her own bag over her shoulder and followed him out of the office with the people she waved over earlier right behind her. 

It wasn't even noon yet. He practically had the full day ahead of him and nothing to look forward to. Listening to the dim chatter in the lift as they ascended to the atrium he learned that many of his co-workers were rather looking forward to an unexpected half-day off of work, some even thanked him for providing them with both entertainment as well as this unexpected treat. 

All he could do was nod at them, his jaw feeling oddly slack. 

Penny would still be expected to work today so he couldn't hang out with her, his family members were not an option (he could only imagine what they would have to say regarding the situation), and Oliver was at his photoshoot. A photoshoot which was set to take only the first half of the morning now that he thought about it, leaving the afternoon potentially free. 

Going home was an option, his flat would provide the solitude he often craved and he did have quite a few reports to finish up. Patting his briefcase as if he needed confirmation this was all real, not some fever dream he was currently caught up in. 

Thinking over his long list of tasks he hoped to accomplish today he put all of that on pause for a moment. There was really only one person he wanted to speak with, only one person who could soothe his frazzled nerves and set his world right again. 

His fingers dialed the now familiar number before he could talk himself out of the plan. 

"Hello?"

"Hey," he croaked out, relief already settling over him as he heard Oliver's soothing voice over the phone. "I need a favor-"

He and Oliver agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. Since he arrived first, he commandeered one of the corner booths near the back, right next to a window which he was currently staring forlornly out of while he sipped on his butterbeer. The light coming in through the window casting odd shadows across the table as the clouds rolled in, adding to his already melancholy mood. 

Surprised that Oliver hadn't hung up on him when he called him in the middle of the day in a right state. He wouldn't have blamed him for refusing to meet him at the last minute- not like he gave a lot of details. 

Instead of questioning his mental stability Oliver had graciously agreed to join him for a butterbeer just as soon as his photo shoot was done. 

No questions asked. 

When he was let out of his meeting and told he could go home for the day he had still been in what he thought might be a state of shock. Now, however, the events of this morning seemed to be all he could think about. 

He was still trying to wrap his around what happened and trying to reason out how he managed to slip through the ordeal completely unscathed. Anxiety beginning to take hold of him, making him regret his decision to meet in such a public place. What he needed in this moment was his living room where he could pace himself to death as he tried to reason all of this out in his head. 

Currently he was not making much headway. 

Looking up he saw Oliver approaching the building, giving a small wave which he returned along with a half-smile. Feeling the familiar lurch in his chest, a sensation he was coming to expect when in the presence of the handsome keeper. 

Pressing a hand to his rattling heart as it battered against his ribcage, willing it to just shush up so Oliver wouldn't be able to hear it as he drew nearer to him. 

"What's going on?" Oliver asked with a smile, choosing to sit right next to him in the booth instead of across the table as they normally would. As the man turned slightly to face him their thighs brushed against each other, neither one of them doing anything to put any distance between the two of them. Faint lines around Oliver's eyes crinkling as he grinned shyly at him before reaching his hand up to grasp his own hand resting atop the table and gave a comforting squeeze. "You didn't give a very detailed explanation over the phone, and you sounded kind of weird."

He sighed contently, allowing his hand to remain in Oliver's embrace, giving a small squeeze back to convey how grateful he was that his friend would give up his only free afternoon to come and sit with him. Clasping his mug tightly with the other hand, thumbing the handle with a pinched brow. “Well, it was kind of weird day,” he began, pausing briefly to allow Oliver to order his butterbeer and another round of chips from the waiter. Watching as Oliver gave his order, never once acting as if anything was odd about this situation. Perfectly at ease to be seen with him in public, even though the two of them were holding hands in the middle of the pub. He had to admit though, seeing Oliver give no mind to the oddness of their afternoon helped quiet his own mind as he settled back into the booth and just let himself focus on the warmth of Oliver's hand enveloping his own. 

"Weird how?" Oliver asked, without skipping a beat once the waiter walked away. His full attention once again on his friend. 

"Weird as in I was fairly sure I was going to be fired this morning," he answered, letting out a puff of air as he let his gaze drift away from the window. Glancing up at Oliver's face he had to stop himself from giggling as his eyebrows shot upwards, and his mouth dropped open in a perfect 'o'. "It was quite an exciting start to my day for sure."

Oliver hummed for a moment, taking a few minutes to fully recover from his initial shock at his admission. Others in his family would have admonished him for giving them a fright, not Oliver though, once he recovered a bit, he just shrugged his shoulders and trudged onwards with the conversation. "Well, I am going to need some additional details," briefly thanking the waiter as he set down the butterbeer and chips before turning back to face him. "Your story already sounds positively riveting." 

He groaned, rubbing briefly at his temples before pressing his free hand over his eyes. Riveting would not have been his choice of adjectives to describe his story, possibly mortifying or maybe even terrifying would more accurately represent his feelings regarding the subject. "It all started this morning when one of my co-workers remarked on an article I was reading..." he carefully chose his words at first as he explained the events of the day, by the end of his explanation though he wasn't giving much mind to any of that, feeling warm and supported by the patient way Oliver listened to his story. Nodding in all of the right places but never interrupting him or making him feel bad for anything that was done or said. 

It was nice. Comfortable in a way he was unaccustomed to as the two of them sat side by side while still holding hands, perfectly content. The only real reaction Oliver gave was when he recounted the part where he lost his temper with Blair, as soon as he said the word 'boyfriend' Oliver's eyebrows shot up and a soft smile quirked his lips upwards. Other than that, he remained quiet, a neutral expression on his face. "...so that's what happened. Somehow, I barely managed to scrape by without so much as a reminder regarding appropriate behavior in the office or a mandatory full refresher course on professionalism. Still not entirely sure how I managed that one," he shrugged, secretly relieved that he was still very much in the running to be considered as the next head of his department. 

Of all the reactions he could have imagined the one he wasn't quite prepared for was the fact that Oliver started laughing at him, trying to cover it up with his free hand which only made the situation worse. Narrowing his eyes into a glare as Oliver struggled to regain control of himself. 

"Why would you be the one who is in trouble?" Oliver asked, helping himself to some of the chips sitting in front of them. When he didn't have a ready answer, Oliver pounced on the opportunity to say exactly what was on his mind. "From the sound of it, Blair was the one in the wrong. I hate she got in trouble, but she did bring it on herself. Nothing you should feel bad about. It wasn't like you forced her to give information to Rita Skeeter or to try and goad you into revealing personal details of my relationship with your family members. She did all of that on her own and unfortunately now she is going to have to face the consequences."

He faltered, thinking over Oliver's question carefully. "I yelled at someone at work," he said with a groan, feeling the beginnings of a headache pound against his temples.

"So?" Oliver shrugged. "I yell at people at work all the time. At least you didn't pull out your wand and hex her into oblivion. I could maybe see how you might get in trouble for that. Though, anyone who has a run-in with Blair would tell you she deserves a good hexing. That woman is relentless."

"I pointed my finger at her. The gesture could be taken as a threat. I don't threaten people, that isn't me."

"I threaten people at work as well," Oliver counterargued. "Just yesterday I informed my beaters that if they didn't pull it together then I was going to stick my foot so far up their arses it would have to be surgically removed. Which, by the way, I did while simultaneously yelling at them. All you did was firmly let Blair know she would be potentially expelled from a Quidditch game, a place the Ministry has little authority over."

He was losing momentum and he knew it. Trying one more time to convey why he believed he should have gotten into some sort of trouble. "I nearly put my career on the line this morning when I lost my temper. I could be unemployed right now."

"I would have hired you as my personal bouncer," Oliver offered, giving his hand a squeeze and winking at him. "You wouldn't have starved or been homeless. Any other reasons you want to try and use to convince me you deserve some sort of punishment when you have done nothing wrong?"

"It's just-" he began, taking a deep breath as the words to explain his feelings on the subject escaped him. Rubbing at his eyes to keep the tears from welling up, feeling the adrenaline slowly but surely leaving his body and leaving him tired and drained. Once again wishing he had thought to suggest his own flat for this conversation. He took a few more breaths to steady himself, Oliver glancing at him curiously but not pushing him to talk until he was ready. 

"It's just-," trying again to explain his myriad of emotions in a cohesive way. 

Oliver frowned but nodded him along.

"It's-" his throat constricted, causing the carefully chosen words he would like to say to get stuck and no amount of force would shake them loose. Giving up after a minute or two and just spitting out the first thing which popped into his head. "I didn't get in trouble. I know it's stupid to keep harping on that, but I didn't get in trouble, and I feel guilty. I yelled at Blair in the middle of the office and yet I don't even get a proper slap on the wrist. I was in the wrong as well and I should be punished for that. I can't help but feel guilty that somehow I was given special treatment," he finished tentatively, not wanting to state his biggest fear which centered around special treatment because of his supposed relationship with Oliver. While he wanted a date to bring to Ministry functions, he didn't want who he was in a relationship with to determine his future or be the sole reason for any promotions.

Oliver took a sip of his butterbeer, no doubt considering everything he just confessed. That same look he always got when he was dealing with a crisis one of his teammates was experiencing settling itself on his features. He could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he mulled everything over and chose the bits he would focus on when he finally did speak. "Your feelings on the matter are not stupid, Percy," Oliver began hesitantly, gathering up his courage. "The thing to remember is that you set a boundary with Blair and when she continued to cross the boundary you didn't allow her to walk all over you. You shouldn't get in trouble for simply standing up for yourself and your family as well. Personally, I would have some choice words for the Ministry if you had been punished in any way for today's debacle. You were innocent and this certainly shouldn't affect your impending promotion to head of your department. Which by the way you will receive because you are simply the best choice for the position, no other reason besides perhaps that your colleagues simply like you."

He wasn't used to being liked; it was something he had simply gotten used to over the years. Become content with his lot in life as his dad would always say whenever one of his children would bemoan their family's financial situation or their birth order. He had become content, content with being the black sheep of his family and the one who was usually the butt of the joke. Perhaps, he had become a bit too content over the years, forgotten that he didn't necessarily deserve to be treated in a dismissive way. Still, it was hard to overcome at times, easier to revert to meek and mild Percy who never told anyone what he needed or wanted. Plodding along with the world resting squarely on his shoulders as he carried everyone else's burden but never let onto his own struggles. "Sometimes, I'm just too-" his voice trailed off as he gestured to himself as if that would explain everything, ignoring Oliver's scoff as he turned to face him with an exasperated expression. 

"Too what?" Oliver asked, not waiting for a response. "Too intelligent? Too driven? Too focused on what he wants in life and willing to work hard to achieve his goals? Too wonderful? Too amazing? Too funny? Too Sexy?"

"No one would ever describe me as sexy," he mumbled into his butterbeer, hoping the giant mug would hide the heat rising on his neck as the flush creeped its way to his face. Never having been able to take a compliment when given, he certainly wasn't used to being considered sexy in any way. That was reserved for others, he was good-looking enough for an average man, maybe even cute in his own right. Never sexy though, sexy was a word meant for men such as Oliver. 

"Perhaps you're just not asking the right people," Oliver suggested as he took a few sips of his own drink, his piercing gaze never leaving his friend's face. "Because there are certain people who happen to hold the opinion that you are quite sexy."

He had been mid-sip when Oliver uttered that last sentence, the frothy cold of the butterbeer going down his windpipe causing him to gag and sputter as Oliver let go of his hand to thump him gently on the back with an amused smirk on his face. Watching with smug satisfaction as he seemed to achieve the exact reaction he had been aiming for with his words. 

What he wasn't going to do was give him the opportunity to try and flirt with him further, not falling into the trap of asking who these mysterious people might be. Having a fairly good idea given the way Oliver was now watching him, with his chin resting comfortably in the palm of his hand. 

"Come on," Oliver patted his leg, effectively changing the topic of conversation to something that wasn't likely to end with both of them in St. Mungos because one of them was in respiratory distress. "I have to go see George this afternoon and then I will cook the two of us a proper late lunch/early dinner. Afterwards we can work on your independent project and perhaps watch a movie or two."

"George?" he asked in surprise, completely baffled as to why Oliver could possibly need to see his younger brother.

Oliver just chuckled at his bewilderment. "He asked me to do him a favor so he could have an after party for his impending engagement," Oliver said with a shrug, nonchalantly picking up his glass and slurping up the reminder of his butterbeer with a satisfied sigh. "I need to let him know that I was able to pull some strings and achieve the impossible with only a few days' notice. One of my old Hogwarts' teammates owns a wizarding club in London and has agreed to rent out one of the rooms for the evening along with an open bar for all in attendance."

"That was nice of him," he remarked, trying to do the math in his head to figure out how much something like that might cost. The numbers made him feel quite dizzy, one of the perks of having professional Quidditch player pay he supposed. 

Oliver just shrugged again, a rather sheepish look crossing his face as he fiddled with his now empty glass. "I might have agreed to let him use my name as free PR for the club in return for a discounted price. You know, something like 'official party location of the Puddlemere Quidditch team and their new captain' or whatever he comes up with."

"So, what you're saying is," he leaned in closer to Oliver with a teasing look on his face. "That you are going to end up on the cover of Witch Weekly with the headline 'captain gone wild' after this little shindig on Saturday night."

"You'll be on the cover with me," Oliver leaned in closer so their noses just barely grazed each other. "Oh, wonderful boyfriend of mine."

He rolled his eyes at Oliver's antics, trying to still his widely beating heart at the knowledge that his lips were mere centimeters from Oliver's. Resigning himself to stare into those gorgeous brown eyes while trying to count the gold flecks that dotted his irises. "Boyfriend sounds kind of weird when you say it," he admitted, he had never been anyone's boyfriend before. It wasn't bad, just weird. 

"And what would you like me to call you?" Oliver asked, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he gathered up his stuff while waiting for him to do the same. "Acquaintance? Buddy? Pal? Mate? Comrade? Esteemed associate?"

"Percy will do just fine," he insisted, giving a small sigh that he tried to make sound annoyed instead of practically smitten by the man's mere presence.  

Oliver nodded seriously as he laid out several coins on the table to pay for their drinks, when he started to fish around in his pockets for change Oliver simply waved him off with assurances that he could get the next round. At the door Oliver paused as they were about to step out onto the street with a mischievous grin on his face. "You can call me darling," Oliver said simply, grabbing his hand as he pulled him out of the establishment while he sputtered and stuttered a half-formed reply. Not that Oliver noticed as he was too busy loudly laughing at his obvious discomfort and shock. "I also answer to lover."

"I will under no circumstances be calling you either of those options," he huffed out, trying to dig his heels into the ground as Oliver continued to drag him down the street without pause. "Ever!"

"We will see," Oliver called behind him in a sing-song voice, never breaking his pace as he hurried them towards the twins' shop. 

The bell chimed above the entrance to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes announcing the presence of potential customers as Oliver strode confidently into the shop, dragging him reluctantly behind him. The shop was nearly empty, not surprising considering it was Wednesday afternoon and most of their key demographic were stuck at Hogwarts. The majority of their business during the school year came from order forms, he created an automated shipping system for them after the war which allowed them to double their capacity without the need for a second shop. Rent in Diagon Alley was pricey enough, add on a second location in Hogsmeade which would be severely underutilized considering students were only allowed to visit a few times a year and it was basically money down the drain. This way they could continue to generate revenue throughout the year without additional overhead. 

The system he put in place went a long way towards helping mend his relationship with the twins. While he had zero interest in the joke shop, he did have strong opinions when it came to efficiency and productivity. Two things severely lacking when it came to the twins. While his brothers were brilliant in their own right, they were also horrendously disorganized. 

Perhaps the two of them would let him have a peak in the back of the shop, just to check on how his ingenious ideas were being maintained. 

Ron was the first one to notice them, looking up from where he was re-stocking the shelves. His youngest brother had only been an auror for about a year after the war, just long enough to help put the wizarding world back into some semblance of order before he quit to pursue a quieter life. Having met Mona not long after his relationship with Hermione ended after only about six months. It had been an amicable split between the two of them, both realizing they were simply better off as friends. Honestly, it was his mother who took the breakup the hardest. Remembering the month she spent walking around the Burrow crying, begging Ron to just give it another shot with Hermione. Ron wisely ignored his mother's pleas, choosing to focus on Mona and part of that meant choosing a career a little less dangerous and with more normal working hours. At the time he hadn't exactly known what he wanted to do, and the twins needed an extra set of hands at the shop, what was originally going to be a temporary agreement turned into a full-time career for Ron. From what he heard the twins paid well, the shop provided flexible hours, and since he lived close to Diagon Alley the commute to work was minimal. 

Oliver gave a friendly wave to Ron, who returned it hesitantly, confusion etched into every line of his face. It wasn't often that Percy or Oliver stepped foot into the shop, certainly not together and definitely not in the middle of the day when they both should have been at work. "George around anywhere?" Oliver asked politely, ignoring the gawking stares of the handful of customers in the shop, all of whom recognized him based on the excited whispers and finger pointing in their general direction. 

"In the back," Ron replied, nodding his head towards the checkout counter. 

Nodding in return Oliver gently tugged on his arm to get him to follow him into the back area of the shop. He was fairly certain that only employees were supposed to walk behind the counter, however Oliver didn't seem bothered by such formalities. Striding with a purpose it would appear as if he owned the place as they made their way through the labyrinth of the back portion of the shop, judging by the number of boxes stacked haphazardly against the walls he could only assume either they just had an order of supplies come in or his meticulously implemented system was truly in disarray. 

Fairly certain Oliver had no idea where he was going, he continued to follow for a minute or so. "Why don't you just call out for George and follow the sound of his voice?" he asked, watching as his friend poked his head around various doorways and corners. Not that he minded much, it gave him an opportunity to gawk at Oliver's rather shapely bum in peace. It should be illegal for that man to walk around in public in a t-shirt and sweatpants which showed off his chiseled form as well as his current ensemble currently did. There was likely to be a riot at the game if the Puddlemere uniforms were anywhere near as flattering. 

"I prefer to just let the two of us happen upon them," Oliver replied, craning his neck around a particular doorway cautiously. Something was hissing menacingly in the room, and he didn't blame his friend for being wary. "Getting lost is half the fun, Perce."

He snorted as Oliver continued to stroll leisurely down the long winding hallway, poking his head around doorframes until they finally found the twins in a large office, bent over what could only be assumed was their latest invention. Neither of them noticing their visitors' presence until Oliver cleared his throat a few times, grinning at the two of them as they turned around and blinked in surprise at the sight before them. 

"Well, well, well," Fred began, returning Oliver's grin. "What catastrophic event led to our older brother and our old Quidditch captain being unaccompanied in the back area of our shop? Perhaps we need to beef up our security if the two of you managed to slink back here."

"Is something wrong?" George asked, ignoring Fred as he gazed worriedly between the two of them. He always got along with George the best. Fred was the ringleader, the ideas man who ensured everyone at Hogwarts knew of their reputation for being pranksters. George was much more reserved, the one who took Fred's grand ideas and figured out how to best implement them. 

Oliver promptly threw his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to him with a look between them which suggested he didn't have to divulge anything he wasn't comfortable with. Giving a small nod and a shrug he let someone besides himself take the reins, not feeling like he had the energy to recount his morning twice before supper. "Just enjoying a rare afternoon that both of us have free," Oliver explained in an almost bored tone. "I have been forced to behave as if I am some sort of prancing unicorn this morning and Percy learned who was responsible for the leaked information to Rita Skeeter which led to that rather intrusive article in the Daily Prophet." 

While Fred and George shared their own look, Oliver sauntered over to one of the chairs and plopped down, causing the chair to creak under his weight. Leaning back in his chair he crossed his ankles, cleared his throat and then gestured beside him. "Come on Perce, the twins aren't going to prank you today. It's safe to sit down."

Reluctantly he sat down next to Oliver, wishing this visit could be handled in less than five minutes and the two of them could continue on about their day. While things were certainly better between him and the twins it was by no means perfect. In general, they avoided each other when not forced to interact at family functions. He much preferred to not walk into their shop where he ran the risk of being accosted and bullied by them. 

"Yeah Perce," George grinned at him from across the desk. "We won't prank you today."

"Tomorrow though is a new day," said Fred with an identical grin, leaning forward just a bit to wink at him. "No promises."

Oliver gritted his teeth, staring up at the ceiling as though he too was regretting his decision to prolong this interaction. "The two of you will do no such thing. You will leave your poor brother alone or I will call up Matt and tell him the club I booked for this Saturday is no longer needed. Along with that open bar I managed to swing."

He sighed softly to himself, settling back into his chair staring in glee as the twins' mouths which fell open in shock. Feeling a flash of affection for Oliver, who always stood up for him, especially when it came to his siblings. Mixed in there was an emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on, though whatever it was had the butterflies in his stomach working overtime and constricted his chest. Not in the way an anxiety attack would produce, this was different. Warmer, almost bordering on pleasant. 

"You really got the club booked?" George breathed out, looking at Oliver in something akin to awe. "That place is booked out months in advance."

"I am aware," Oliver sat up a bit straighter, casually stretching his left arm up and around the back of the chair next to him. Blinking as he focused on the twins' faces, eyes narrowing a bit. "Next time you need a favor from me a bit more than a few days' notice would be much appreciated. I don't like begging and I certainly don't want to seem desperate when I do so."

Fred scoffed, rolling his eyes, but offered a small grin which Oliver couldn't help but return. His previous annoyance long forgotten. "I can't imagine you begging for anything. Well, perhaps you had to beg McGonagall a few times to move our detention so we could still attend your twice a day practices. Which, by the way, is completely nuts for a house team to practice that often."

"Perhaps if the two of you wouldn't have gotten detention so close to a game I wouldn't have been forced to try and persuade McGonagall," Oliver snapped at them.

He was reminded of the tangents Oliver used to go on at night about the twins and their lack of focus and dedication to the sport, definitely remembered Oliver's little pep talks to himself whenever he had to go head-to-head with his head of house. Thankfully she was also nuts about Quidditch, certainly helped him needle her until she finally caved to his incessant whining. Either that or he was chased from her office under the threat of finding himself transfigured into something unpleasant. Either way it was rather entertaining to watch. 

"Forget about Quidditch for a moment," George chided, attempting to get them all back on task and focused on his upcoming engagement party. Ignoring the incredulous looks from Oliver and Fred at the suggestion that for even a moment they should 'forget about Quidditch,' something which was not likely to ever happen. "You actually managed to get the open bar? Seriously?"

While George was still trying to wrap his head around the news, Oliver nodded his head, his arm jerking a few times as though he wasn't sure if he should put it around his shoulders or not. After a minute or so he simply withdrew his arm back to his side, trying to play it off as though he was simply stretching his limbs. A slight blush on his cheeks which he was attempting to disguise, by inclining his head in the opposite direction. "Bit stuffy in here," Oliver remarked off-handedly, nervously rubbing his arm. "And yes, George, I did manage to get you the open bar that you and your twin wanted. I just hope you appreciate what I am willing to go through for you and Angelina."

"We do, dear sweet Oliver," Fred remarked, batting his eyelashes at his friend. "We appreciate you."

"Oh yes," George joined in. "We appreciate you sooooo much."

"You simply have no idea-"

"You really don't. The amount of appreciation we have for you is simply-"

"Insurmountable. We bow before your greatness."

"Your mere presence in our lives is the only reason we can get up in the mornings and suffer through our miserable day."

Oliver continued to let the twins carry on in this vein for quite a while, he was always envious of Oliver's ability to handle the twins with such ease. Seeming to always know when it was best to just let them get it out of their system and when he needed to yank them back into line. In return, the twins listened to and respected him in their own way, anyone else they would have steamrolled but even if they grumbled about it, they would always do as Oliver asked. Even if that meant abandoning whatever prank they were going to surprise their older brother with whom they believed was simply too uptight, a little laughter and public humiliation could cure that according to Fred and George.

"Thank you for acknowledging my many wonderful attributes to your overall quality life," Oliver announced importantly, now casually leaning back in his chair as though his earlier indecision was a mere figment of the imagination. "You can start repaying me by spreading the word that anyone who trashes the room on Saturday night will be presented with the bill in full. Now, George will be bringing Angelina by the Burrow around seven or so and I booked the club for nine, but people can come whenever. That gives about two hours for the extended family and the boy your mother despises to mingle and then we can celebrate with all of you and Angie's friends until the club closes at three in the morning."

"Our mum will come around," George said gently, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the mere mention of his mum's obvious resentment of Oliver who had been nothing but kind and respectful towards the Weasleys. "Pretty soon she will see what a lovely person you are, and you will be a proper Weasley."

"And if she doesn't," Fred offered in what he thought was a sympathetic gesture. "You will still be a proper Weasley anyways and you can join us in a series of pranks to convince your future mother-in-law otherwise."

He shakily put his face in his hands, rolling his head from side to side as he tried to pull himself together. The absolute last thing he needed was the twins to get involved in this mess. Certainly, didn't need the two of them throwing around terms such as 'mother-in-law' in front of Oliver and giving him the wrong idea. The idea of being permanent dates was never accompanied by the belief this would turn into anything serious, he didn't want Oliver believing he had some sort of ulterior motive. "I don't believe the way for Oliver to gain favor with our mum is for him to start pulling pranks. In fact, I believe that will have the exact opposite effect."

"Same old Percy," George said, shuffling a few papers around on the desk with a shake of his head. 

"All that logic and reasoning is why his head is so big," remarked Fred, turning to give him a grin which he was certain he had seen on a fox right before it went in for the kill against some unsuspecting chicken. 

"So why is his back so straight all the time Fred?"

"Well, George, that would be due to giant broom he always has permanently shoved up his arse."

As the twins burst into a round of laughter he felt his chin tuck towards his chest, eyes downcast while his ears, cheeks, and neck burned crimson. The heat radiating off of him as he sat there unable to meet anyone's eyes.

No matter how many years passed he never could quite handle the twins' merciless teasing against him, hating himself even more because he couldn't sit back in his seat with an easy grin and banter with the two of them. Were he anyone else he wouldn't be sitting in his seat trying to make himself as small as possible, as though if he could simply disappear' then perhaps the twins would forget about him and choose a new target. Not likely to happen though. He always was and always would be their favorite person to torment. 

Probably because they knew he would always react to their taunts, no matter how much he tried to let it all roll off his shoulders. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw slight movement as Oliver leaned forward and picked something up off the desk, holding it up in front of him before aiming it right at the twins and pulling back the string attached to the end closest to him. 

"Oliver don't!" Fred and George screeched at the same time, right as whatever Oliver was holding in his hands launched at their startled faces with a loud bang, enveloping them in a cloud of thick black smoke. 

He could hear the twins loud coughing, wheezing out insults at Oliver which would make even the most seasoned auror wince and wonder what sort of upbringing those two had to be exposed to such vulgar language. The entire situation struck his as odd, he could see the smoke covering the twins as it made its way throughout the office and out into the hallway; yet he remained unaffected. Glancing over at Oliver's face for the first time he found his friend grinning impishly at him, twirling a wand in his hand, the two of them spared from the aftermath of whatever new product he had deployed. 

Staring at the man beside him in shock he blinked a few times, reaching his hand over to lace his fingers with Oliver's feeling a giant grin creeping across his face at the knowledge his friend defended him against the twins in the most fantastic way possible without causing him any unnecessary humiliation. 

He should admonish Oliver for dousing his younger brothers in smoke, especially when the product was likely still in the development stages. 

He should be responsible, just like he always was at Hogwarts and really for most of his life in general. 

He should be the kill joy everyone believed him to be. 

His grin grew in size as he watched the twins wave their hands to get rid of the smoke swirling around them, gazing around at the mess he should wave his wand and clean everything up. Tell the twins there were no hard feelings and he didn't mind their comments. 

Oliver was staring at him curiously, head tilted adorably to the side. Sliding his gaze over to the twins who looked positively murderous he just simply shrugged his muscular shoulders, attempting his best innocent look which was not convincing in the slightest. "My bad," Oliver deadpanned. "It slipped."

A snort ripped through him, hand flying to his face as he dissolved into a fit of giggles which had him doubled over in his chair, gasping for breath. Oliver soon joined in, convinced that he wasn't going to either burst into a fit of tears or launch into a lengthy lecture on the dangers of deploying pranks in such an enclosed space. 

"Bloody hell, Wood!" Fred seethed, swiping at his face in a futile attempt to remove the layer of soot which now covered him. 

"If you wanted us to leave Percy alone-" George began after giving a few coughs to dislodge the soot in his lungs, a scowl settling over his features as he regarded his former Quidditch captain who was still loudly laughing at the two of them. Not the least bit sorry for his actions. 

"You could have simply asked."

"We hadn't finished testing that product."

"You can't just launch things at people's faces."

"Especially when you have no idea what they do."

Oliver inhaled slowly through his nose, attempting to bring his giggling under control. Leveling the twins with a glare of his own, though his was nowhere near as menacing. "I knew what it did. Don't you remember when you showed it to me a couple months ago? Told me you could have it ready to send to my managers if they didn't choose me as the next captain of Puddlemere United. "

Fred and George settled Oliver with a frown as the three of them stared at one another.

"Is this how it is going to be from now on?" George asked, brushing at his clothes before abandoning the effort. 

"Every time we say something you don't like to Percy then you will teach us some sort of lesson?" Fred tapped his hand against the layer of soot covering the desk in front of him. 

"Yep," Oliver supplied, unconcerned by the events of the afternoon. "Consider this a warning. There will be no ganging up on Percy or you will answer to me. I simply will not stand for it."

Oliver's words made him smile, readjusting the positioning of his fingers so he could brush his thumb slowly across the back of Oliver's hand. Not sure if he imagined the hitch in Oliver's breathing or the fact that his pulse seemed to increase for a second before evening out. "If you are done being my knight in shining armor, then perhaps we could get on with our afternoon. I believe I was promised some of your fabulous cooking and a movie night."

Oliver's eyes brightened considerably, grinning as he grabbed the robe hanging over the back of the chair and passed it to him. "How does baked ziti sound?"

"Sounds delightful," he replied, taking the offered robe while maintaining a firm hold on Oliver's hand. Ignoring the glances the twins shared as they watched the two of them, he didn't really care what his brothers thought. 

He rather like the feel of holding hands with Oliver and wasn't keen on letting go quite yet. 

"I will put extra cheese in it," Oliver grinned at him with a wink. Quickly turning the wink into an eye roll at his confused expression. "Because cheese has the power to solve almost every issue," Oliver supplied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"A little troubled by your reasoning, but I will go with it," he snorted, following Oliver out of the back office towards the front part of the shop. 

Ron glanced up briefly from the magazine he was perusing as he leaned casually against the check-out counter. His eyebrows raising slightly as he took in the sight of his employers covered in black soot while his older brother and boyfriend remained completely unaffected. "What happened to you two?" 

"Small mishap," Fred muttered, folding his arms across his chest as he gave a pointed look at Oliver who just grinned back at him, obviously pleased with himself. 

"I'm surprised you didn't hear the explosion," he commented, glancing around the shop and marveling at the amount of new products he noted. He had to hand it to the two of them, though they were tiresome at times and utterly ridiculous, they certainly did know how to run a successful business. "It was quite loud."

Ron just snorted, flipping a page in his magazine. "This is the twins you are talking about. I learned a long time ago that any strange noises which come from the back of the shop are better left alone. I hardly notice them anymore."

"Probably for the best," Oliver glanced up from where he was perusing one of the displays, He quirked an eyebrow, and a smile crossed his face. Their fingers still entwined, and it seemed as if he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. "When it comes to these two, plausible deniability is always the best approach. That is what I would always do at Hogwarts. If I saw them with the heads huddled together or staring up at a chandelier I would simply walk quickly in the opposite direction. What I didn't know couldn't land me in detention." 

George tapped his foot against the floor, his nose twitching as though he was trying not to laugh or perhaps was about to sneeze. Either option would work given the current situation. "Should we exercise 'plausible deniability' about the fact that you are the reason we are covered in soot and will spend quite a bit of time cleaning up our office?"

Fred inclined his head towards his older brother and Oliver, bumping George's shoulder. "I suppose we should also exercise 'plausible deniability' at the fact the two of them are shirking off their responsibilities to have a little date with each other. Apparently one which will extend well into the evening-"

"Might even extend until tomorrow morning," George raised an eyebrow. 

"I wonder if our former Quidditch captain is suave enough to convince our older brother to have a little spend the night party?" Fred asked, pretending to ponder the very question he raised. 

Ron was glancing wide eyed between the four of them, trying to keep up with the conversation and fill in the gaps he had not been present for. "Come on now," Ron whined, covering his ears with his palms. "I don't need to hear the sordid details of Percy's relationship with Oliver."

He knew this could go on for a while. Once the twins got ahold of an idea, they could spend hours bantering back and forth with each other. The longer he and Oliver stayed in this shop, the more opportunity for both Fred and George to have a field day filling in the details of what they believed their relationship to look like when not in front of others. 

If only they knew the truth about his supposed relationship with Oliver. If only they knew how confused he was regarding his feelings towards the man, feelings which only seemed to be growing in strength with each passing day. 

He felt a bit playful at the moment. Boldened by the fact Oliver had been openly flirting with him earlier and seemed to have no qualms holding his hand in public. Daring even with just a hint of mischievousness. 

"Come along, darling," he motioned for Oliver to leave the shop, knowing that his use of the chosen term of endearment would cause those eyes of his to light up even if he had said it in a rather sarcastic manner. The effect was just as desired, those brown eyes dancing with mirth as Oliver regarded him carefully. Seeming to think about his next move for a second before his eyes narrowed playfully, a silent promise that he wouldn't be outmaneuvered just yet. 

"Whatever you say, schnookums," Oliver sighed dramatically, though he was smiling as he held the shop door open and ushered him out onto the streets of Diagon Alley, the sounds of boisterous laughter from inside the shop following them as they made their exit. "I wouldn't want to keep my little sweety-pie waiting. Got to fill his hungry belly." 

I absolutely hate it when people use those stupid pet names for each other, he grumbled to himself as the two of them made their way to the designated apparition point hand-in-hand. 

Even though he didn't really mean it. 

Chapter Text

"All the back and forth getting complicated. Running me around got me frustrated, no, that's why I been laying low. If you want to make it work baby, gotta say it, need a little more than participation or I could go be on my own. Sure, I would kiss you, I'll lay with you, you're broke, no, I can't fix you. I won't, no, I can't diss you but babe, yeah I might miss you. If you're cold and needed shelter, I'd hold you, but not sweat ya and know we're not together but babe, I won't forget ya. What I need, what I need, what I need, is for you to be sure... for you to be sure... need you to be sure." Hayley Kiyoko ft. Kehlani- What I Need

"You look fine Perce," Oliver commented offhandedly from where he was lounging on the bed with a Quidditch magazine open in front of him watching as his date for the evening tried on what had to be at least the fifth different outfit. Turning his head over his shoulder he stuck his tongue out at Oliver who, even though he was wearing a simple shirt and dark wash jeans, looked utterly flawless. It really was rather annoying that the man barely had to try and somehow always looked as if he was ready for an onslaught of Quidditch obsessed paparazzi. 

He had been standing in front of his full-length mirror for at least ten minutes, fussing over every single wrinkle on his most recent outfit as he primped and prepped himself for the engagement party. Wanting to look as put together as possible tonight to counteract the fact he thought he might hurl the contents of his lunch all over the floor of his bedroom. Not only would he be seeing his parents for the first time since Teddy's birthday party, but he was also going to be introduced to Oliver's teammates and friends this evening. 

The mere thought was enough to send him into another spiral. The hardest part of tonight would be the sheer amount of pretending he would be forced to do all evening. Not only was he going to have to pretend as if he was actually dating Oliver but now, he had the added difficulty of keeping up appearances with said man that he wanted nothing more than their original agreement with each other. 

He hadn't quite yet decided what he was going to do about the strange thoughts and feelings which surfaced any time he was around him. Perhaps nothing, there was always the possibility he would simply ignore the problem. However, that particular approach was rather difficult when it came to Oliver. They spent quite a bit of time together and every single touch, every single one of those looks Oliver would give him out of the corner of his eye, added another gram of pressure to the straining weight he was already carrying on his shoulders.

"Thoughts?" he asked, turning around so Oliver could get a proper look at the front of his outfit. Spreading out his arms to either side of him and giving a small turn for the full effect. 

Oliver stretched his long limbs lazily, reminding him of a cat who was sunning himself by a window, rolling over onto his back with an easy grin across his face. "Perfect, I think you have finally lucked onto THE outfit Perce."

"I don't know," he muttered to himself, giving his outfit an appraising once over in the mirror. After several outfit changes, he finally settled on his favorite pair of jeans, a blue patterned button down, and a brown tweed blazer to complete the look. Casual, but still stylish. "I feel like perhaps I need to choose a different shirt. This one feels a bit too loud for what I normally wear."

"No, no, no, no, no!" Oliver sat up in a panic, knocking his Quidditch magazine off the bed in the process. "Don't change, don't get out of clothes! You look fine, great, perfect. Keep the outfit exactly as is with no alterations. Other than George and Angelina you will be the best dressed person at this little shindig."

Leaning over the edge of the bed Oliver retrieved his magazine from the floor, his hair flopping over in the process in a way which made his chest feel too tight as though there wasn't enough room for all of his emotions at the moment. He found he had to turn back to face the mirror lest his heart start overriding his brain, that was the last thing he needed tonight. He would have to be in full control at all times, couldn't begin to imagine the fallout if he started telling Oliver every thought running through his mind at this moment. "Your shirt is wrinkled," he gave a pointed look at his date, who's reflection was currently grinning at him.  

"Is it?" Oliver pretended to inspect his own shirt, as though he wasn't aware he had been lounging about on a bed for at least an hour or so. Giving no mind whatsoever to how it might affect his outfit. He had to force himself to swallow, feeling his mouth go suddenly dry at the way Oliver's biceps bulged at the effort. "Help a mate out? You know I have never been good at spells of this nature. You always had to take over the reins of packing the trunks with magic."

He did remember, Oliver would always whine about how he was already packed up and ready to go while his side of the dormroom was still in utter disarray. At first, he would refuse, watching as his roommate begrudgingly started tidying up and slowly packing the muggle way before finally giving into his pleading glances. Waving his wand to pack up the remaining items, giving the trunk a wave as well to ensure the items were neat and tidy. It never failed, for seven years he swore twice a year that his best mate would have to learn how to fend for himself and every single time he would end up giving into that infuriatingly wonderful grin of his. Oliver's smile had a way of lighting up a room, it was a bit like standing in direct sunlight.

He learned rather early on he would do almost anything for that brilliant smile. 

"Fine," he sighed, turning to face Oliver again with his hands on his hips. "Come over here and I will ensure you look presentable for this evening, but only because I don't want to give my mother any further ammunition. Your outward appearance must be respectable, she notices things like that."

"Fantastic!" Oliver bounced off his bed, padding over to stand in front of him like an overeager puppy who simply wanted to please. "I always knew I could count on you Perce. You never fail me, not once."

Warmth started to bloom in his chest, forcing it back immediately as he ran his wand up and down Oliver's extremely wrinkled shirt. Muttering the spell to himself, not because he was incapable of doing non-verbal magic, but he needed the monotony to keep his brain from going completely renegade on him. There was only so much a wand could do, against his better judgement he reached out both hands and proceeded to smooth out Oliver's shirt. As he moved back around to the front, he couldn't help but notice he could feel the outline of the man's abdominal muscles. 

He knew he should withdraw his hands, the way his fingers tingled in anticipation at the mere thought of the potential of touching Oliver would only blur the lines between them further. However, he couldn't seem to draw his hands away, realizing with horror that Oliver was staring at him with a look somewhere between amusement and slight confusion at his rather odd behavior. "Congratulations on the muscles," he offered a flimsy excuse for his lingering touch on Oliver's stomach, giving a small cough to clear his throat before averting his eyes. 

"Thanks," the corners of Oliver's mouth twitched, biting down the urge to smile. Seeming unfazed by the fact that his date had just been running his hands over his stomach for several seconds longer than was strictly necessary. "Congratulations on that firm little booty you have going on."

Before he had time to process anything, Oliver reached both hands around his waist, placing them on both butt cheeks and giving a small squeeze which elicited a rather loud yelp from him. "Get your hands off my arse!" he protested, smacking Oliver on the shoulder- which was unfortunately also almost pure muscle, cursing Puddlemere United for encouraging their star keeper to have the physique of one of those Greek gods he read about. Certainly not doing anything to help unblur those lines. 

"No," Oliver said simply, continuing to stand in front of him with his hands firmly attached to his buttocks. The two of them stared at each other for a minute, trying his best to glare at Oliver in an effort to intimidate him into letting go of his bottom. Really it was Puddlemere United who was to blame, they were the reason he was in his current predicament in the first place. That and his pension for being insanely attracted to men who had rock hard abdominal muscles and a generally muscular build.

Two things Oliver excelled at. 

"Do I even want to know what is going on in here?" Harry's voice sounded from the doorway, his head whirling towards the noise to find his future brother-in-law and his baby sister smirking at the two of them. 

"Come on Ollie," Ginny wagged her finger at Oliver unconvincingly. "Let go of my brother's bottom."

Oliver just lifted an eyebrow at him, shrugging his shoulders as though him grasping both of his butt cheeks was a daily occurrence. "What can I say?" Oliver winked, dodging a hand which reached out to smack him on the shoulder. "I just can't keep my hands off of him."

"Well," Ginny pretended to gag while Harry took a seat on the bed and proceeded to watch from afar. "I suggest you learn how. I won't stand by while you grope Percy. There are some things which I am never meant to know regarding your relationship."

"I would appreciate it as well," he murmured, every inch of his body tight with tension as Harry and Ginny continued to observe them. Thankfully Oliver did eventually let go of his bottom, taking a seat on the bed next to Ginny who nudged his shoulder with a knowing look which he returned. Three heads swiveling to face him with almost identical grins, causing him to gulp audibly. 

While he wanted a man to pose as his date to functions who got along well with his family, perhaps he should have chosen one who was a bit less chummy with the majority of the Weasley siblings and their respective partners. Right now, being a prime example, the three of them were currently ganging up on him and he knew he didn't stand much of a chance.  

"Now look here," he scolded, adopting a stance which he hoped would encourage the three of them to pull themselves together. He needed this night to go perfectly, and shenanigans were not going to be well received or tolerated. "I want to go over some ground rules for this evening. Especially when it comes to a certain grinning idiot-"

"Which idiot?" Ginny interrupted him, pointing between the three people seated on the edge of the bed. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose he focused on steadying his breathing, now was not the time for his eye to start twitching. "The big one," he seethed through gritted teeth with a pointed look at Oliver.  

"Hmmm," Oliver hummed, reaching over to ruffle Harry's hair, making little difference to its normal untidy appearance. Earning him a half-hearted glare and a shove. "Looks like he is referring to you mate. Best shape up before the vein on Percy's forehead starts bulging out."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly as the three people in front of him dissolved into fits of giggles. Knowing that he was fighting a losing battle by trying to force them to behave while he lacked the energy and willpower to continue trying. 

Best to just admit defeat early on in the evening and give into their whims. Certainly, didn't help that Oliver's smile was almost blindingly brilliant at the moment causing his stomach to continuously flop over and his chest to constrict. Averting his gaze did nothing to help, the problem with knowing Oliver for as long as had was, he was well acquainted with that dazzling grin of his. Having seen it enough times that he could conjure it up in his mind when needed. He could also conjure it when not needed, most recently said grin had been a permanent fixture in his dreams which were beginning to suggest perhaps he had a bit more than just a platonic friendship in mind for the man. 

Sighing heavily to himself as he observed the others trying to pull themselves together to no avail. The familiar tug at his heart accompanying the sound of stifled giggles and gentle teasing.

Catching Oliver's eyes and finding himself lost in them as they stared at him as if nothing else in this world mattered. 

"We should really get going if we don't want to be late," Oliver suggested to the others, coming over to stand by him and wrapping his arm protectively around his waist. Feeling his cheeks burn with the knowledge that his date caught a glimpse of the desperation in his eyes, mistaking it for nerves about this evening. 

He marveled at how Oliver made it all seem so easy. Effortless. He was able to play the part so well, to come into his life after several years of not speaking to each other and fit right in as though he had never left. As if there truly was an Oliver shaped hole in his world which was waiting around to be filled, once that happened everything else simply slipped into place as well. Everything aligning perfectly and without tipping off any of his family member that something was slightly askew with their story. 

At least on his side he realized Penny might actually have been right about a few things regarding his plan to fake date Oliver. Perhaps, he had let his old feelings toward the man guide his actions, allowing just enough actual emotion to show that it made the entire thing plausible. He wasn't sure about Oliver, he had surprisingly little grasp on the thoughts and motivations regarding his decision to agree to the slightly insane plan. To the best of his knowledge Oliver was simply skilled at the art of schmoozing.  

While a good 'enemies on the pitch' story was useful for marketing purposes, the trick was to not be the player who had enemies on every single professional team (a.k.a Marcus Flint, who from what he heard had not changed since his years at Hogwarts). That required a certain ability to at least be cordial to people you didn't exactly enjoy being in the company of. Not that he felt Oliver was necessarily faking all of his affections towards him, they had been genuine friends at Hogwarts, but he was fairly certain that was where the affections ended. 

Merely two people who were best mates at one point in their lives. Nothing more. 

"Ok, ok," Ginny giggled, tugging on Harry's arm to get him off the bed. Glancing over at him resting his head against Oliver's shoulder with his arms wrapped around his waist. "I get it, the two of you are in the honeymoon phase of the relationship where you just can't keep your hands off of each other and everything is nothing but sunshine and clear blue skies."

"Doesn't last forever mate," Harry gave Oliver a teasing grin as he allowed Ginny to pull him into a standing position. "One day you are all young and in love and then before you know it you have been together several years, and you are considered the old married couple of the group."

He let out a small, strangled noise at the word 'love.' A word, which in his opinion, should not be used at any time when describing him and Oliver. He should have stuck with the original plan, just two people who show up to events together as dates. That had been his first mistake, deviating from the plan, no matter that the deviation actually made a great deal of sense considering he asked a famous Quidditch player to be his date to a Ministry function. 

Now look at him, standing here with a panicked look on his face while his date just rolled his eyes at his dramatics and Harry and Ginny stood dumbfounded at his reaction. "You will have to excuse Percy," Oliver offered an explanation. "He has difficulty expressing his affections for people in public. Tends to make him a bit pale and sweaty and his voice gets all squeaky."

That was- well, he never-. Oliver wasn't wrong per se, but it was very rude of him to give such a shrewd observation regarding his inability to allow himself to open up to people. Even his family didn't really know him, he made sure of that rather early on in his childhood to avoid any further alienation by his family members. One can only stand a certain amount of ridicule before they start to hide the portions of themselves they think are too much for others to handle. 

"I do not!" he protested, his voice several octaves higher than normal. Giving a small cough he made an effort to lower his voice to a more normal pitch before repeating, "I do not."

Oliver gave Harry and Ginny an 'I told you so' look before following them out the door and into the living room so they could disapparate. It hadn't escaped his attention that Oliver still had his arm draped lazily around his waist, the buzzing sensation thrumming through his veins made sure his attention would not stray from the man beside him.

He supposed if the universe was conspiring to make him hyper aware of someone at least said person was good looking. Not that outward appearances were everything, but a chiseled jawline and rippling muscles were pleasant to look at. If his eyes had to land somewhere then Oliver's handsome face certainly wasn't the worst option. 

It isn't real, he reminded himself as his stomach gave that familiar lurch at Oliver's touch as he felt a hand slowly tracing its way up his spine. This all isn't real. Oliver is simply acting and if you don't pull it together then you are going to spoil everything. 

"Now that Percy is breathing again. We better get a move on," Ginny winked at Harry. "These two are liable to start snogging at any moment and I would rather not be here for that. Happy for them sure, but I don't care to view any of my brothers swapping saliva."

"Good call," Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I don't need a repeat of the things I saw when Ollie was dating-" Harry seemed to pause for a minute, suddenly unsure if mentioning the name in front of Oliver was such a good idea. "Well, you know who I mean. Scarred for life, I am."

The way Oliver's cheeks bloomed pink at the embarrassing memory the two of them shared was rather adorable. "If someone would learn to knock then perhaps, he wouldn't be haunted by the memory," Oliver muttered, loudly enough for Harry to hear based off the barking laugh he and Ginny shared. Apparently, whatever Harry witnessed wasn't that traumatic if he could laugh about it after less than a year to recover.

"See you at the party in a few minutes, schnookums," Ginny cooed at the two of them, giving a little wave of her fingers. 

"See you there, sweet cheeks," Oliver retorted, not hesitating for a moment to tease Ginny right back. He never could do that when it came to his siblings, always feeling flustered at their constant ribbing at his expense and unable to think of a retort until several hours afterwards. Even then he could never remember it for the next time. Leading to the impression that he was stuck-up, a prat, too self-absorbed to be able to banter with his siblings. 

He did have a sense of humor. It wasn't his fault that his family never bothered to see that. 

Ginny stuck her tongue out at them, before she and Harry disappeared with a resounding crack. Leaving the two of them alone in his flat yet again. 

"Ready to go?" Oliver put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes silently questioning if he was sure everything was ok. 

"I suppose-" he paused for a second, seriously considering the option of exploring London for the evening with Oliver instead of suffering through the family party. However, it was the image of his furious mother hunting the two of them down which made him abandon all his haphazardly made plans. "The sooner we get to the Burrow the sooner we can leave."

Oliver threw his head back and laughed, as though he just heard the best joke in a while. "I like the way you think mate-" Oliver trailed off for a moment, bringing his hand to awkwardly rub his neck for a moment while he seemed to wrestle with something. "You look- nice, tonight. Blue is good color on you."

"It's not Puddlemere United blue," he pointed out, gesturing to his outfit. "I'm surprised you would betray your beloved team like that. As someone who has been a lifelong Puddlemere fan I didn't think you capable of finding any other shade of blue attractive."

Oliver hummed in response, tentatively slipping his arms around his waist and pulling him slightly closer. "Well, that is why I used the adjective 'nice' as opposed to insanely handsome."

"Strikingly attractive," Oliver's voice was low, almost purring as he stared at him with those eyes which practically made him forget his own name. One of Oliver's hands made its way slowly up his spine, causing him to shiver in the process. 

The hand paused at the base of his neck, Oliver's eyes asking for silent permission to continue in case he was about to overstep a boundary. Feeling his arms instinctively raise to wrap around the man's neck. His heart had taken over control of his limbs leaving his brain to focus on basic functions such as breathing normally and ensuring he didn't hyperventilate. The world blurring around the edges until all he could see was Oliver.

"Some might even go as far to say ethereal," Oliver grinned at him, tilting his head slightly up as he simultaneously lowered his head to touch their foreheads together. Letting his eyes flutter shut, reveling in the feel of Oliver's body pressed tightly against his own. 

The air crackled between them with an electricity he never experienced before. Feeling as though his heart may burst at any moment and lay his secrets bare before him. 

He might not be absolutely certain how he felt, but in this moment with Oliver's warm breath ghosting against his face, Oliver's hand running through his hair, and their noses nuzzling against each other he was about as close to being truly happy and content as he had been in several years. 

The hand moved from his hair to softly trace his jawline. "The blue does bring out your freckles though," Oliver whispered in his ear, feeling himself practically melt into the source of that Scottish burr. "Even if it isn't Puddlemere blue it compliments those eyes of yours as well and they are certainly more than just nice. Utterly stunning would be the first thing which comes to mind."

Fear gripped him in a dizzyingly way, snapping out of his current daze. 

He promised himself the last time they kissed, the last time he spoke to Oliver before the two long years of silence, that would be the last time he broke the man's heart and subsequently his own. A heart which broke every day since then at the mere mention of his name or when a memory came floating back to him in the moments, he found himself alone with nothing but his thoughts. 

Couldn't risk making things awkward between them, couldn't risk ruining the newly renewed friendship between them because he once again allowed himself to get caught up in a moment to then pull back from the affections as soon as things became real.

As soon as his brain got involved and started listing every single way the relationship would ultimately crash and burn. Detailing every single way, he would ultimately screw this up and lose Oliver's friendship and affections for good. 

He needed to be sure before anything could ever potentially happen between them.  

His whole body tensed, increasing the space between the two of them. His head and his heart currently at war with each other, one was saying run in the opposite direction while the other was attempting to get him to throw himself in the man's arms and finish what they started. For now, his head was winning the argument, though he couldn't say for how much longer he could overpower the mounting urge to be as close to Oliver as humanely possible. 

He ran a hand through his hair, not daring to meet the warm brown eyes which were briefly wounded at the rejection. Oliver's face softened with understanding, his easy grin returning, looking only slightly forced. "We should get going I suppose. Otherwise, your sister will come to retrieve the two of us. I don't know if you know this, but she has quite the temper on her."  

Chuckling lightly at Oliver's attempt at a joke he shook his head to rid himself of whatever moment the two of them just shared. 

Staring into Oliver's eyes as they prepared to disapparate he wasn't certain either of them stood a chance of making out of this with their hearts fully intact. The only thing he could hope for at this point was this wouldn't be like last time, that he would not be solely responsible for two shattered hearts. 

Chapter Text

"I woke up with a fear this morning, but I can taste you on the tip of my tongue. Alarm without no warning, you're by my side and we've got smoke in our lungs... I don't want to hear sad songs songs anymore, I only wanna hear love songs. I found my heart up in the place tonight. I don't wanna sing mad songs anymore, I only wanna sing your song. Cause your song's got me feeling like I'm in love." Rita Ora- Your Song

The setting sun bathed the back garden of the Burrow in the soft glow of the dying evening light. His mother arranged a rather elegant engagement party for her son and future daughter-in-law. Small tables were set up throughout the garden, draped with linens in a soft blush color with white lace layered on top and rose centerpieces made from fresh cut flowers to complete the look. Candles were everywhere, tea lights scattered over every possible surface while taper candles floated overhead reminding him of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. 

His great aunts brought their own wedding china and crystal champagne flutes to ensure there were enough place settings for all the guests to enjoy the finger foods and beverages provided. He thought the mis-matched tableware gave the party a casual feel, far more Weasley-ish than if the patterns were all matching. While his Great Aunt Muriel skulked around the party, muttering under her breath about propriety and the proper way to host an event. Everyone else simply ignored her protests and happily used the plates and bowls provided. The food tasted the same and as long as they were getting fed then no one really cared. 

So far this evening he managed to successfully avoid his mother, other than to exchange perfunctory greetings with her and his dad. Of course, he complimented her on the decorations and refreshments. Being careful not to mention the party in general felt an awful lot like his mother with very little of George and Angelina sprinkled in. He supposed that might account for his brother asking Oliver to find them a place for an after party. A way for the newly engaged couple to celebrate with their friends in a manner which better encompassed their personalities than the more formal evening tea party they were currently attending. 

Angelina was carting George around the garden, practically floating as if on a cloud of euphoria. The two of them gazing at one another with eyes reflecting vast depths of love as they grinned from ear to ear, laughing softly in pure joy at the thought of getting to spend the rest of their lives together. They looked the very picture of domestic bliss. 

He was happy for his brother, he really was. Though, he couldn't help but feel just a ping of jealousy as he watched them interacting with each other and wishing for a moment that a few weeks ago he put the majority of his effort into finding someone to be his actual date to family functions rather than taking Charlie's advice and securing himself someone who was merely posing as his date.  

Having always been very selective with the people he let in his life; he could count the number of close friends he actually trusted on one hand. Never letting himself get close enough to another person to have any semblance of a serious romantic relationship. Reducing the possibility, he would develop any deep feelings for the person and therefore would not run the risk of getting hurt. That was exactly how he had always wanted it.

At least it had been until recently. 

Holding up two newly topped up flutes of champagne he scanned the garden for Oliver, finding him standing at the edge of the crowd with Fleur and Bill while bouncing a rather grumpy looking Teddy on his hip. 

"We were almost late because Teddy was throwing a screaming fit on the kitchen floor after being told that he and Oliver wouldn't be able to fly this evening," Remus's soft voice sounded from near his shoulder, turning to see the man pointing towards his son who was currently hiding his face in Oliver's shoulder, his hair turning vibrant shades of crimson to further emphasize his displeasure with the current situation. 

Sirius put his arm around his husband who instinctively leaned against him. "Thought managing the expectations of our rambunctious toddler beforehand was the best approach but apparently when he can't be on a broom, he throws a fit of epic proportions. We liked to have never gotten him calmed down enough to actually make it to this little shindig."

"I understand," he deadpanned, giving a small smile as Oliver waved him over with his free hand before patting Teddy soothingly on the back. Apparently, the little boy wasn't quite done lamenting about the unfairness of a Quidditch free evening. "Oliver has had similar reactions in the past when informed that talk of brooms and Quidditch would not be allowed to overtake the main focus of the evening."

"Oh Merlin!" Sirius exclaimed with a loud laugh, causing several people nearby to turn and look at them as they made their way across the garden. "And here Moony and I thought our little Teddy would one day grow out of it."

"Afraid not," he replied simply, chuckling softly at the groan Remus let out as they approached the man in question. 

Oliver cocked an eyebrow, taking the champagne from him with a nod of thanks. "What's so funny?"

"Percy here was just giving Sirius and I a little glimpse into our son's future," Remus explained, handing Teddy a cup of apple juice which he grabbed eagerly in his chubby hands. Having seen the adults drinking and toasting each other, he too had wanted in on the fun. Loudly insisting that he have a 'big boy' cup as he called it, which was basically just a plastic cup his dads had transfigured to resemble their own. "We wanted to get an insider's perspective on what it is like to be around someone utterly obsessed with f-l-y-i-n-g." 

Oliver gave a poor attempt at a glare, sipping his drink to hide the fact that he was fighting a smile. "Ah. Well, I suppose Perce told you all about what an absolutely delightful person I am and how Teddy will one day be an insanely successful and driven professional Quidditch player whose name will be forever immortalized in the record books," Oliver nudged his arm with a wink. "Not to mention he will turn out rather devilishly handsome if I do say so myself." 

"I'm sure that is exactly what my brother told them," Bill snorted a laugh, shaking his head as the others joined in on the merriment. 

Oliver gently squeezed his shoulder, having handed Teddy back over to Remus who already looked as if he was ready for another short reprieve from the wiggling toddler who was chattering non-stop. He squeezed Oliver's bicep almost reflexively, earning him a rather surprised look from his date, like he hadn't been quite expecting the return of affection in front of others.

All night they had been carefully avoiding the dragon in the room, while cordial with each other the politeness was forced and disingenuous. The change in dynamic was like taking a full speed bludger to the chest, enough to completely knock the breath out of him and leave him gasping desperately for air. 

Before coming to the party, he had been worried about his mother watching their interactions closely, waiting for any tiny thread of discontent to pull at in hopes of unravelling his supposed relationship with Oliver.

Turns out he was doing a fairly good job of that on his own. 

He always overthought everything, his brain was just so- loud. Having not yet found a way to shut it off he simply had to try and navigate life with an endless stream of self-depreciating chatter running through his mind. 

It was absolutely exhausting, the constant back and forth with himself just to make it through one evening. Though, recently his brain had become much quieter than normal. The thoughts still there but muted, as if they were just background noise while a much louder voice started to take control. Unfortunately, it seemed the old voices still fought for control and on occasion won the floor. Something which did not work out well for him or for Oliver.  

What he needed now was damage control. A way to make up for his earlier rejection and pull himself together lest he scare away what was arguably the best thing to happen to him in quite a while. 

His silent pleas to the universe for a chance to redeem himself were answered when his Great Uncle Albert stood up and tapped his glass to get everyone's attention. As a hush fell over the crowd nearly fifty heads turned to listen to the impending toast, raising his wand to his throat to be heard by everyone in attendance Uncle Albert gestured for the newly engaged couple to come closer. "Weasley family and friends, thank you for coming out here tonight to celebrate the engagement of our George and his beautiful fiance, Angelina," pausing to allow for a smattering of polite applause and a few whistles from George's siblings as the couple shared a passionate kiss. "I know I speak for everyone when I say we have been waiting for this moment for quite a while. The two of you are made for each other and we are so excited to welcome a new member into the ever-growing Weasley clan. I know you will both enjoy a blissful marriage for many years to come."

"To George and Angelina!" Fleur called out, raising her glass of sparkling apple juice for a toast which the entire family participated in. 

His mum bustled up to the beaming couple with his dad in tow, both looking overcome with emotion. "My baby boy!" his mum grabbed a mortified George's face, squishing his cheeks together with her hands, while Angelina stood by awkwardly accepting congratulations from her future father-in-law while he simultaneously attempted to loosen his wife's vice grip on her son. "All grown up and going to marry the love of his life! Oh, I just can't contain how delighted I am that another one of my children will soon be happily married off-"

The excitement from his parents shouldn't have stung so badly, he could still achieve the happy ending his mother always wanted for her children. The only difference was he would not be marrying a woman, but that didn't mean he couldn't one day have a loving marriage and give his parents the grandchildren they so desired. His life would just look a little bit different than that of his siblings, different didn't have to equal bad. 

Though, he was fairly certain in his mother's eyes a life which did not turn out exactly like the picture she envisioned in her head would never earn her approval. Something he was going to have to come to terms with eventually. 

Feeling a slight pressure against his side he looked down to see Oliver's fingers entwined with his own, he decided it was best to simply not mention it. Giving a small squeeze of thanks he couldn't help but allow a smile to settle across his lips as Oliver squeezed back moving close enough so their shoulders brushed against each other. 

"Dance with me?" Oliver's lips brushed against his ear, breath warm on his skin. Swallowing the sudden tightness in his throat he turned with a smile, noticing Oliver's head was tilted slightly to the side in that adorable way of his. Something Oliver only did when he was truly invested in the answer to whatever question had been posed. 

"Only if you promise to mind my toes," he replied.

Oliver let go of his hand to take the champagne from him, setting it down on the table nearby while snaking his other hand around his waist. "I promise that minimal harm will come to your toes as my dance partner," he felt Oliver's fingertips gingerly brush across the small of his back, failing to repress a shiver that ran down his spine as his stomach performed somersaults. 

"Only minimal harm?" he rasped out, feeling completely undone by the close proximity of their bodies. 

He felt Oliver's weight shift as he leaned in closer. "I am a man of many talents. Dancing has never been one of them. I never promise more than I can deliver." 

"At least you are self-aware enough to realize. I will give you that. Shall we dance?" he asked, knowing his resolve was wearing thin with Oliver's lips mere centimeters from his own. 

Oliver took his hand, giving him an awkward little twirl before tugging at him impatiently to get him to move. For someone who was by most standards a mediocre dancer when using rather generous grading criteria, Oliver certainly enjoyed the process. 

Glancing back over at his date he noticed the man looked quietly pleased with himself as he led him out onto the impromptu dancefloor with the other couples. Not that he could blame him, in a matter of mere minutes he took what was an uncomfortable silence between them and successfully navigated the situation to a point where he was practically putty in the man's large hands. 

Hands which were now resting comfortably on the small of his back while the other was interlaced with his own, staying on the outskirts of the dancefloor while they moved to the music of love songs better suited to a 50th anniversary celebration than an engagement party for two young twenty-somethings. 

"The next time we go to a function together," Oliver whispered. "I'm afraid I am going to have to insist on pre-approving the musical selections for the evening as well as the menu. You are two for two Perce. This song really is quite awful, and the sandwiches were a bit on the dry side."

Feeling the tension melt off his shoulders at Oliver's words he relished in the fact there would be a next time for the two of them. "I will have you know that my mother specifically picked out this very song just to torture and drive you away," he whispered back, tightening his grip while trying to hide a wince as Oliver faltered a step and got the tip of his pinky toe. "By the sound of it I can assume her nefarious plan worked."

"I knew it," Oliver glanced around in mock paranoia. "She has no shame and has resorted to a new low. Please tell me that you have a portkey ready to go at a moment's notice which will immediately whisk me away to a tropical island of my choosing."

"No can do," he gave a small shrug. "Portkeys are hard to come by and I am pretty sure my bosses would laugh in my face if I told them I needed it to leave a family function early because the selection of music was not up to my date's stringent standards."

Oliver scoffed, looking briefly appalled. "You are the future Minister of Transportation, which by the way according to my research you will also be the youngest in recorded history, and you inform me that you can't arrange for one measly little portkey to whisk the two of us away from music which is threatening to make my ears start bleeding."

"Research?" he asked, briefly distracted from their conversation about his mother's poor taste in music. He had eighteen years of being forced to endure Celestina Warbeck records on repeat to back-up that opinion. "You voluntarily did non-Quidditch related research?"

"Yeah," Oliver shrugged, the way his eyes darted around giving away his sudden nervousness. "After you told me about your issues with Blair, I started to do some research for you so I could devise a strategy to secure you the position. I know how much calmer you feel when you have a detailed plan so I thought I might help out a little. The key is to always be on the offensive, you only want to play defense as a last resort. Simone came over to help color code the potential scenarios, it's actually quite pretty. I was going to show the playbook to you this weekend."

He didn't know what to say, no one had ever supported his career aspirations, let alone taken the time to actually devise a plan to help him achieve a goal. It was nice, having always been the black sheep of the Weasley family who would never be accepted or appreciated for who he was, ever scrutinized for his positive qualities which most only saw as reasons to further alienate him. Truly feeling seen for the first time that he could remember. 

Only Oliver ever understood his ambition, only Oliver had ever been able to rival his own determination to achieve a goal he set for himself. 

They continued to sway to the music, resting his head against Oliver's chest as he felt himself be enveloped in warmth. He missed the comfort of Oliver's arms around him and the sound of their heartbeats thumping in unison. 

He thought he might be willing to endure a thousand sappy love songs if it meant he could prolong this moment between them. "You didn't have to do all of that for me. You shouldn't have done any of that for me," he whispered into the fabric of Oliver's shirt, inhaling the scent of his cologne. 

Oliver ran his fingers through his hair, tightening his grip ever so slightly. "Of course, I did Perce. You were always helping me with my own playbook for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Staying up late into the evening with me, sitting for hours in the library while pouring over strategy books, and watching me pace around the Quidditch pitch all afternoon while waiting for inspiration to strike. The least I can do is help you get Minister of Transportation, especially if it means taking out that bitch Blair in the process."

"She is a bitch," he agreed, not having the heart to let Oliver in on the fact that his assistance had not been entirely altruistic. He had been rewarded with his best mate's undivided attention and the ability to spend several hours in the library or lying next to each other on one of their beds while they perfected a new play. Not to mention the overly enthusiastic hugs he received whenever Oliver's teammates perfected a difficult maneuver or won a Quidditch game. Those had been quite nice, and he told himself at the time that everyone got butterflies in their stomach when their best mates hugged them. Nothing to worry about there. 

The more he thought about it the more he was willing to admit that he might have potentially been in denial of his feelings for Oliver for quite some time. 

"You're far more deserving of the promotion," Oliver murmured, pressing his cheek against his hair as the music became nothing but a dull roar thanks to the rushing blood against his eardrums. "I'm also available to help you plot out your acceptance speech by the way. According to your younger brothers I have quite the way with words and a unique ability to inspire others."

His sporadic sighs of contentment quickly turned to uncontrollable giggles as he thought back to Fred and George's rants about Oliver's pre-game pep talks, while he always meant well, he did have a tendency to ramble and was often just a bit over-enthusiastic. Leading to quite a lot of teasing from his team members and fellow classmates in their year. 

Wiping at his eyes as he continued to struggle with trying to stop his laughter, every time he thought he had it under control another memory would pop into his head from their time at Hogwarts and he would dissolve into another fit. Sucking in a deep breath, he held it there for a count of three before slowly releasing it. Willing his diaphragm to stop contracting as he was on the verge of a nasty case of the hiccups from a combination of crying and laughing. Mostly done at the same time thanks to Oliver. 

"It wasn't that funny," Oliver commented, tenderly wiping away at his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe to remove any lingering wetness caused from his howling laughter which left the sides of his abdomen to aching in the most wonderful way. After several years of only finding certain things moderately humorous he rather liked being able to throw his head back and belly laugh at a witty quip.   

He tried to keep himself together as he settled into Oliver's strong arms again with his head resting against his broad chest, pretending like his heart wasn’t threatening to burst out of his body. 

This was nice. 

More than nice actually. 

Everything was simply- right, for lack of a better term. Yes, he decided with certainty. When he was with Oliver everything if his life was just better somehow. 

Perhaps one of these days he would tell Oliver as much. But, for now at least he figured there was time for all of that. Things between them were still rather new and he didn't get the impression either of them were in any hurry to rush into something. Better to take things at a slower place, fate had handed him a second chance with Oliver, and he wasn't keen on ruining it. 

"May I cut in?" Ginny said from somewhere near him, popping open an eye as he glared at his sister's amused face. "Not that you two aren't absolutely adorable all cuddled up on the dancefloor, but Fred and George need to go over a few details for later this evening with Ollie."

Oliver scoffed, rolling his eyes as he attempted to unentangle himself. "What do those twin terrors want from me now? Not like I haven't done enough by securing them a fabulous party location complete with an open bar and complementary snacks. What more could they possibly require?" Oliver continued on with his rant as he stalked off to find the twins in the throng of freckle faced redheads. "Would they like for me to dress up in a hula skirt and dance the cha cha in the middle of the Quidditch pitch for them?"

"Does he actually own a hula skirt?" Ginny asked in a hushed whisper, her eyes wide as she started to dance with him. Occasionally glancing over to where Oliver was standing in front of the twins with his arms crossed across his chest, clearly annoyed at the interruption to his evening. Not that he could blame him, while he loved his sister, dancing with her just wasn't the same. For one he rather missed the way Oliver seemed to have to concentrate on his movements to avoid trampling his feet, nothing compared to Ginny's fluid grace which threw him off just a little and caused him to miss a couple steps. 

"Wouldn't surprise me," he shrugged, chuckling as Ginny's eyebrows raised to her hairline. He could already hear the teasing Oliver would endure later on. "The man has a massive closet. No telling what is buried in there."

Ginny nodded solemnly, chewing on her bottom lip as she mulled something over. "So-" she began hesitantly, easing into the conversation. "Is everything ok? You know- with you and Oliver."

"Fine," he avoided her eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide the truth if he was staring directly at her. 

"You sure?" his sister gently prodded. "Because both Harry and I noticed Oliver looked fairly upset when you guys apparated here and I don't know- there was just a weird vibe this evening. Everything seemed ok when we left and then ten minutes later you both show up with expressions suggesting you would rather be anywhere else in the world than standing next to each other. You guys seemed to have worked it out, but I don't know- I guess, um. Anything you want to talk about?"

He didn't even begin to know how to explain the situation to his sister. How could he tell her that he and Oliver weren't really dating? How was he supposed to accurately describe how he almost screwed everything up this evening? Nearly ruined any chance he had of this potentially turning into something more- something real? That his heart ached for Oliver when he wasn't near him and all he wanted to do was get closer to him, both physically and emotionally. 

When he couldn't even fully admit to himself that he might be falling for Oliver, really and truly falling, how could he stand here and tell his sister? Besides, other than himself the first person to know should really be Oliver and he certainly wasn't mentally prepared to have that conversation this evening. 

"Everything is fine," he assured her. "Nothing to concern yourself with."

"You do know that your family loves you right?" Ginny asked, her voice a little huskier than normal. Blinking back tears as she attempted to swallow her emotions. "I mean really really loves you. We just want you to be happy and if Oliver makes you happy then you shouldn't fight it so hard. Dad is already coming around and mum is making some impressive strides in the right direction, they both just need a bit more time. I know it isn't fair that they didn't accept the fact you fancy men, but I really think they will be ok with it and treat whoever you end up marrying the same way they treat Harry."

All he could do was nod at the moment, completely at a loss for words. Having not fully dealt with the rejection from his parents, he figured the time to start was probably not right this moment. 

"Oliver is a great guy," his sister continued on. "He deserves nothing short of 100% of your affections and you deserve 100% of his. Anything less than that is a disservice to you both. I wouldn't necessarily have thought of pairing you two together, but it does work. You just seem- I don't know- happier and more relaxed around him. Oliver is happier as well, even Harry and Angelina admitted it and they have never approved of anyone he has dated in the past. In fact, they have both been quite verbal about their reservations in his taste in men."

"We are an odd couple," he admitted, there was no denying that while they matched on many levels the differences in their personalities were quite noticeable. They just got each other though, somehow despite the dissimilarities their friendship had always worked. 

"Cute though," Ginny mused almost to herself. "The whole opposites attract thing, I guess. Besides, I put my official stamp of approval on anyone who can get you to laugh and gives you adoring looks like you hung the moon. I would hate to be forced to list out your long list of positive attributes because Oliver did not properly appreciate you."

He snorted at that, the movement causing his glasses to go slightly askew. Pushing them back into place with one finger he leveled his sister with a disbelieving look. "You would not. I would find poor Oliver unconscious on the Quidditch pitch because you chose to settle the dispute with violence."

"You know me so well," Ginny grinned at him. "Which would you prefer? A detailed explanation for why Oliver is the perfect guy for you and how you need to pull your head out of your arse or a stream of bludgers aimed at your head?"

"Neither," he seethed through gritted teeth, feeling his neck starting to heat up with red splotches as they inched their way towards his face. "And I do not have my head up my own arse! I am dating the man am I not? Bringing him around to family functions? Being seen in public with him in general? I would say that counts for something after years parading around like I was straight in front of my family and co-workers."

Ginny looked unfazed by his annoyance at her insinuation, he supposed that years of playing Quidditch and having six brothers made her fearless and just a tad bit mean at times if he was being honest. "True, but you can't admit you love him or at the very least are falling in love with him. I understand if you haven't said it to each other yet since it has only been three months, but you looked like you saw a ghost for the first time in your life earlier this evening. Now, how is Oliver supposed to express his undying infatuation with you if he thinks you are uninterested?"

You don't even know the half of it, he thought to himself, feeling rather miserable at the moment. It is the opposite direction. How am I supposed to express my infatuation with Oliver when I continue to get in my own way?

Self-sabotage had always been the Percy Weasley special and lately he was serving it hot and made to order. 

"That really is between Oliver and myself," he replied, feeling his chest puff out in defense of his sudden vulnerability. "We are grown men and can handle any issues that arise between us without the need for a certain fiery redhead and her fiance inserting themselves in the middle of it."

"I will pass that message along to Harry," Ginny glanced around the garden still filled with people dancing away the evening. "Speaking of Oliver, I believe a certain three-year-old is quite keen on stealing your boyfriend's heart away from you."

He followed Ginny's gaze, finding Oliver amongst a throng of people who were all grinning and elbowing each other as they watched the adorable interaction unfold before them. It seemed as if Teddy decided he too wanted to dance and a spell had been used to levitate him off the ground, his feet dangling and moving about sporadically in what he assumed was an imitation of the dance steps observed from the adults around him. Oliver gave Teddy a twirl and then a small dip, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from the toddler and several exclamations from the onlookers about how sweet the two of them were. 

"Look at them," he heard his cousin, Cora, whisper as he passed a large group of his extended family members. "They are sooooo cute!"

His Aunt Imogen nodded her head in agreement, reaching out her hand to gently grasp his arm as he passed. "I must say Percy, that boyfriend of yours is quite the keeper," she gave a gravelly chuckle at her pun.

"Such a polite young man," his Great Aunt Ophelia commented, a sly look on her face as she leaned over with a fake whisper. "So good with children, that's important in a partner you know."

Turning various shades of crimson at his aunt's wink he found himself wishing he could disappear. Perhaps Oliver's idea of a portkey wouldn't have been so terrible after all. Honestly, they weren't even actually dating and even if they were everyone knew it had only been three months. Things such as love and whether or not one of them was good with kids shouldn't even be on their radar at the moment. 

"He is so good looking!" his cousin, Rowen exclaimed, turning to her other cousins who giggled in agreement. "I mean I knew he was cute from the pictures in the Daily Prophet, but justice was not served. That man is gorgeous." 

"He um- he doesn't have any brothers, does he?" Layla asked in a voice just above a whisper, as she timidly fidgeted waiting for her answer. 

"Afraid not," he shrugged, giving a small smile to try and ease her nerves. Honestly, he was surprised more people hadn't come up to him to ask similar questions, Oliver was quite the hit amongst his extended family members. "He is the oldest of his cousins though so I will ask if any of them might be available."

His cousin, Aria, waved her hands in front of her face. "Wait, wait, wait. Are any of these cousins cute and are any of them professional Quidditch players?"

"I don't know about the cute bit," he sighed, wishing this conversation could be over already. Playing matchmaker wasn't high on his list of things to do but he didn't want to be accused of being rude. "I only met them a few times when I was younger and would visit Oliver during the summer. I do know none of them play professionally, if memory serves one of them graduated from Hufflepuff about a year ago and is finishing up training to be a healer."

"You like them smart Layla," Rowen blurted out. "Have Percy set up contact with this soon-to-be healer. If he looks anything like Oliver, then you have yourself a real winner."

Layla looked up at him with hopeful eyes, emitting a small high-pitched giggle which gave away her nerves. "I will speak with Oliver," he promised, not wanting to get her hopes up on the off chance the man was already dating someone. "See what can be done."

Sensing his opportunity, he quickly made his excuses and slipped away to take refuge next to Bill who gave him a knowing look as he inclined his head towards the gaggle of their extended family members who were all staring doe-eyed at Oliver. Either the man didn't notice or was simply ignoring them as he continued to entertain Teddy who looked like he was having the time of his life being the center of attention for a moment. 

"Teddy insisted on dancing with his Ollie," Fleur supplied in her thick accent. "He wasn't satisfied simply being held, he wanted to dance like a big boy after watching others be twirled around the dancefloor. The levitation charm was Hermione's idea, brilliant as ever."

"Good thinking on the levitation," he noted with a grin, Hermione's face flushing at being publicly acknowledged and praised for her contribution. He couldn't disagree, she was brilliant which was probably one of the reasons why his youngest brother and now Fred had been so smitten with her. "Oliver is notorious for stepping on your toes. Poor Teddy would be in excruciating pain by now."

"Only problem is Teddy thinks this is almost as great as flying," Tonks chuckled from nearby. "Remus and Sirius are going to have a difficult night ahead of them once they have to explain to their son why he can't just float around all the time. As soon as that boy's feet hit the floor, we are going to have a massive tantrum on our hands." 

Fred elbowed George in the side, nodding in the direction where Teddy was being twirled around while yelling 'whee!' which elicited loud laughter from almost everyone watching. "I am just glad we are getting this on video. Next time Oliver gives an interview to Quidditch Weekly like he is some big tough player with a brooding temper we are going to leak this video to disprove that."

Harry nodded his head enthusiastically, holding out Oliver's cell phone in front of him. "Don't forget the fact that he got all upset a few months ago after seeing a commercial for a puppy who had big paws and floppy ears that needed a home. Poor Simone spent two entire weeks reminding him that he was gone for weeks at a time, and it simply wouldn't be fair to the puppy to be away from him for so long."

"Personally, I think she just didn't want to be an accomplice," Ginny supplied, leaning her elbow on Harry's shoulder. "You know Oliver would have tried to sneak that puppy into the hotel room for Puddlemere when they were on tour. No way their managers would believe she had no clue he was harboring a furry fugitive."

"Now that I would pay good money to see," Angelina giggled, agreeing with Ginny's prediction. "That man is not subtle, so trying to pull one over on his managers would be a hoot and a half to witness. Probably would either try to pass the puppy off as a stuffed animal or feign ignorance as to why his duffle bag was barking."

He joined the others in laughing, silently musing to himself as he remembered their seven years at Hogwarts. They had no idea the extent of Oliver's ability to feign ignorance even when he knew he had been caught doing something he ought not have. Having witnessed it on several occasions firsthand and when he was drug back to the common room by his ear after being found after hours zooming around the Quidditch pitch. "Probably would give the same innocent look he always tried on McGonagall, would probably get about as far as well. His one saving grace at Hogwarts was he was a natural at Transfiguration, else McGonagall would have expelled him after first year."

"Really?" the twins asked at the same time, mouths gaping open at this new knowledge. 

"Do tell," Fred prompted with a devilish grin. 

George nodded along, joined by his fiance and the rest of his siblings and their significant others. Only Hermione looked hesitant, no doubt worried about what rules had been broken and potentially gone unpunished. She had no idea. "Go on then, tell us some stories about dear Ollie and his rule-breaking ways," George not so gently nudged, staring up at him with big eyes in an attempt to look innocent. 

"You have to Percy," Angelina huffed, crossing her arms in annoyance at his reluctance to spill. "He never missed practice because of detention the entire time we were on the team with him. Therefore, he either talked his way out of them or was simply never caught."

"Please tell me you were somehow involved in them," Ron pleaded with him. "I need to know that when you yelled at me for always getting into trouble with Harry and Hermione that you were secretly sneaking about the castle with your roommate."

He muttered something indecent under his breath, giving the group of them a dark look. The constant shenanigans Oliver managed to find himself, and often times his reluctant accomplice, in were really none of their business. Not like any of them would believe that he and Oliver were responsible for most of the twins' foiled pranks, they were just clever enough to almost never get caught. Oliver's problem was he couldn't seem to remember that McGonagall's office overlooked the Quidditch pitch when he went for one of his moonlit rides. Usually, he could talk his way into an additional assignment for no credit in lieu of detention. 

"What was that Perce?" George asked, leaning forward with the side of his head featuring his missing ear. "Didn't quite catch that. Speak up, I'm a little deaf on this side."

"George!" Angelina smacked her fiance on the shoulder, she didn't take kindly to the missing body parts thanks to dark magic while outrunning death eaters being joked about. Neither of them had much contact during that year leading up to the war, having not started dating quite yet and going in two different directions with their careers. From what he witnessed it had been quite the shock for Angelina to find George was missing an ear. Even more so that he and his twin found it insanely hilarious to bring attention to the fact in casual conversation. "A little decorum please."

George just gave her a lopsided love-struck grin as he grasped her waist with both arms. "Sorry dear. Won't happen again. Wouldn't want to do anything to spoil this lovely evening with the loveliest woman in the world."

"See that it doesn't," Angelina replied tersely, her annoyance melting away when George planted a tender kiss on her lips. When they pulled away both were grinning at each other again while Fred and Ron were pretending to be sick at their very public display of affection. 

He just wanted Oliver, feeling a bit exposed and vulnerable without him next to him. As if on cue Oliver appeared, glancing between everyone as Teddy clung to his leg, ignoring the protests of both Remus and Sirius who insisted Oliver was not a plaything and he couldn't just hang about him like a monkey at the zoo. Teddy howled with laughter in response, making what he assumed were monkey noises then demanding to be picked up by Oliver who did so with an exasperated sigh. 

The two of them shared a look which suggested that while Oliver loved Teddy he was growing rather tired of being a constant source of entertainment for the toddler who was getting to stay up way past his bedtime this evening for the party and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. 

"Having fun?"

"Loads," Oliver muttered, bouncing Teddy on his hip. "Teddy, don't you want to dance with your Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny?"

Teddy shook his head, earning a hurt look from Harry and Ginny at the rejection. "No! Dance with Ollie!" Teddy exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and leaning back to let everyone know he was ready to be twirled around and dipped again. 

"I swear, Oliver comes around and I might as well be standing here under my invisibility cloak for all the attention my own godson pays me," Harry replied, a small smile still on his face as he watched Teddy attempt to swing on Oliver's neck. Which thankfully Oliver realized what Teddy was about to do and successfully re-routed his attention before sustaining an injury this close to his big match. 

"What can I say?" Oliver said with a smile, struggling to get Teddy to quite clamoring about him. "The kid knows quality entertainment when he sees it."

"You going to put quality jungle gym for a toddler on your resume?" Harry asked sweetly as he and Oliver stared at each other with similar looks his siblings often got with each other when they were about to break out into an argument. 

"Only if you put giant-" Oliver was no doubt about to reply with something scathing, jumping in at the last second to clamp his hand firmly over Oliver's mouth who looked startled for a second then licked his palm in a quick motion. Pulling it back immediately he wiped Oliver's saliva off on a napkin he grabbed from a table nearby, narrowing his eyes at the offending man with a disgusted look on his face. "What? I was only going to point out that Harry is a giant...ly wonderful person, savior of the wizarding world, and so pretty too."

Oliver attempted to pat Harry on the head, dodging Harry's hands as they smacked at him to keep him from ruffling up his mop of hair. "I'm sure you were," he said icily, honestly the two of them were behaving like children at the moment. Teddy was beginning to catch on as well, joining in on helping Oliver terrorize his godfather with gleeful laughs. If this was the dynamic, then he was in for a long evening. "Do I have to separate you two?" 

"Sorry Percy," Oliver and Harry replied at the same time, looking slightly mollified for a moment though he could tell from their side glances if he hadn't stepped in, they would still be smacking at each other. 

"Alright Teddy," Andromeda spoke up with a tone of authority, walking up the toddler and clapping her hands for him to come see her. "Let's give Ollie a little break and you come dance with your grandma."

Teddy didn't look so sure about the idea until Andromeda lifted him out of Oliver's arms and slung him around, ending the fanfare with a shower of kisses that peppered his chubby cheeks. Oliver just looked relieved to have a break as he watched Andromeda twirl Teddy around the dancefloor while his hair went through the entire rainbow of colors.  

"Let's go sit for a minute," Oliver suggested. "My feet could use a break."

He enthusiastically agreed to the idea, grateful Oliver did not want to continue dancing. While he certainly enjoyed it, they had an entire evening ahead of them in the club. Best to pace himself if he didn't want to be curled up in a corner booth sound asleep before midnight hit. 

Oliver beamed at him, wrapping an arm around his waist and towing him towards one of the folding chairs set up in the grass. Grabbing two glasses of water off a nearby table he handed one to him then sat down in the chair with great fanfare, sighing heavily and stretching his feet out in front of him. 

The two of them sat there in amicable silence for some time, sipping on their waters and giving each other amused looks as they observed the family members. He knew those looks well, after the party he and Oliver would spend some time gossiping about their observations, finding he was very much looking forward to that portion of the evening. 

"It's like watching a broom crash," Oliver whispered to him, jerking his head to the left where Fred had finally convinced a reluctant Hermione to share one dance with him. "You want to scream pointers at him or just look away, but you can't. The chaos just draws you in."

He had to agree with Oliver's assessment of the situation. Fred looked elated as he waltzed Hermione around the garden, a bit too enthusiastically for what he knew of Hermione's more reserved personality. While the fact that people were watching them would please Fred greatly, Hermione just ended up looking constipated and like she wished this torture would end at any point. "He has been after her for years. I fear it is a lost cause."

"I see he isn't taking my advice," Oliver mutter with a shake of his head. "I told him to be subtle and try and meet Granger halfway in her hesitancy, most of all just try and get to know her as a person before putting on the moves. Slinging her around the garden like a gnome he is trying to launch over a wall is going to have the exact opposite effect I fear."

"Fred asked your advice on how to woo Hermione?" his voice was a mixture of disbelief and something he couldn't quite pinpoint- akin to surprise if he had to put a word to it. 

Oliver just shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, said he figured I was the best option because I managed to, 'bag his uptight older brother who also aired on the serious and bookish side.' I just gave him the best advice I could in the moment."

While Oliver's tone was light and airy he couldn't help but notice the annoyance that creeped in the edges. Though, Oliver had no idea that it was he who was trying to bag him. Slow and steady, he reminded himself. Don't scare Oliver off by throwing yourself at him and declaring that he was well and truly bagged. 

"Fred isn't the person I saw Hermione ending up with," he admitted, sighing as Oliver arched a brow at him. "Not that I gave it a whole lot of thought, but certainly never said to myself let me set her up with Fred."

"I don't know," Oliver laughed good-naturedly. "I think they have real potential to work, you know once Fred quits trying so hard."

"Do elaborate."

"Well," Oliver thought for a minute, taking a large gulp of water. "Hermione is intelligent and highly motivated, so is Fred. You can't deny the inventions he and George come up with are ingenious; combining multiple magical theories, spells, enchantments, and potions to create something uniquely new. That requires an immense amount of intelligence and ingenuity, not to mention dedication and perseverance to get the product just right. Fred can match Hermione in career aspirations as well, I know that she has her eyes on being the Minister of Magic one day and Fred wants to make his business venture as successful as possible. They both value their relationships with family and friends and are fiercely loyal. Not to mention Fred will bring a bit of levity to situations and get Hermione to relax, while Hermione will get Fred to be serious and focused when needed. You can't have two serious people together or two people with their heads in the clouds, gotta find someone to counterbalance you."

He nodded for a minute, mulling over Oliver's observations. "I see your point; you make a valid argument. If Fred would just calm down a bit and let his positive attributes shine through, then Hermione might be able to see the similarities between them rather than being distracted by the differences in their personalities. They might make a good couple."

"Glad you recognize that I am almost always right." 

"Now wait just one minute," he insisted, looking at Oliver pointedly. "I never once said that. I pointed out you made a valid argument; every time I make a comment about seeing your side of something does not mean that I am admitting I was necessarily wrong. You don't always have to be right you know."

Oliver shrugged, a warm smile on his face as he stretched his right arm above his head then rested it on the back of the chair next to him. Since it was there anyways, he settled back, letting Olivers arm be a pillow for his neck. "I could same the same thing about you Perce."

He huffed in response, instinctively inching towards Oliver's heat radiating off of him. Eventually working his way close enough he could rest his head on Oliver's shoulder. A contented sigh as Oliver wrapped his arms around him while they continued to be happy just watching the merriment unfold in front of them. 

After a minute or so Oliver rested his cheek against the top of his head, nuzzling his nose into his hair. 

His chest gave a sharp tug, followed by a sensation of warmth and longing spreading its way through his veins until it reached his fingertips and toes. 

It was a rather odd sensation, pleasant.

There was no denying it anymore. Something new buzzed in his mind, making its way down to his chest, which only intensified whenever he thought of Oliver's eyes, the kindness in his smile, the warmth of his touch, and the way he looked so adorable when he was trying to be an adequate dance partner for him.

He officially had feelings for Oliver Wood. Real feelings, the kind he was always assured by family and friends he would one day experience when he met the right person. 'All he had to do was wait', they constantly reminded him, 'the person who took his breath away and made his heart beat out of his chest was out there somewhere. He just had to patient'. 

Little did he know that person was merely a few tube stops away from him this entire time and it was someone he already knew quite well. 

That revelation should have shocked him to his core. He should have immediately become a ball of nervous energy and anxious thoughts, trying to find every possible way he could back out of this agreement with minimal emotional damage to both parties. 

A calmness washed over him, a pleasant change to his normal reaction to anything revolving around his dating life. It was like he finally put the pieces of a complicated section of a puzzle together, though he couldn't see the full picture yet at least he had idea of how it was all coming together. 

It was inevitable, he decided as he felt Oliver shift slightly against him. Though, he fought it off valiantly for more years than he cared to admit there was certainly no denying he had a massive crush on Oliver Wood. 

Chapter Text

"This ain't for the best, my reputations never been worse so you must like me for me. We can't make any promises now can we, babe, but you can make me a drink. Dive bar on the East side where you at? Phone lights up my nightstand in the black. Come here, you can meet me in the back. Dark jeans and your Nikes look at you. Oh, damn never seen that color blue, just think of the fun things we could do. 'Cause I like you... Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head?... Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate." Taylor Swift- Delicate

White smoke curled up from the floor while multi-colored strobe lights streaked around the packed main area of the Cauldron Lounge, briefly illuminating sections of the crowd dancing energetically to the blaring music before whisking off to another area. He could tell from the black marble floors, the iron spiral staircases leading to the upper lounge areas, leather accents, and general ambiance this was not the normal seedy dance clubs he was used to visiting when drug out on the town for what was promised to be a fun evening of debauchery common amongst those in his age group. Usually, he ended the night curled up in a corner booth just trying to read a book he snuck in with him and hoping that nobody tried to start a conversation. Praying for midnight to come quickly so he could apparate home and curl up under a mountain of blankets and pillows, not making another social appearance until Monday morning when he would show up for his job at the Ministry.  

He watched the bartenders clean and sanitize the tiny cauldrons they were serving drinks in, giving him hope this establishment's standards of hygiene might just be high enough that he would not think twice about partaking in the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol this evening. Because it was George and Angelina, he had planned to put his reservations aside and just go along with it all, but if he wasn't worried about drinking out of a dirty glass or having to leave early just so he could use the loo in his own flat then that would be even better. 

Above them the other four floors held additional party rooms with balconies overlooking the massive dance floor. From the tour he received this morning, when he accompanied Oliver to meet with the event coordinator, their group would be in one of the top floor rooms with access to a private rooftop courtyard.

Oliver was chatting to the man who had been re-introduced to him as Matt, the owner of the club. He learned that after Matt graduated at the end of their second year, he went on to be a reserve beater for the Ballycastle Bats. After about two years he decided his talents could be otherwise utilized and opened up a night club in the middle of London which catered to both the muggle as well as wizarding populations. Something which had previously been lacking for the younger generation of witches and wizards.

The two Quidditch enthusiasts were obviously catching up, given the snippets of conversation he was able to catch over the thumping of the music overhead. He stood awkwardly to the side, feeling as though he didn't have much to contribute to the current conversation. All of it revolved around Quidditch and Puddlemere's chances of making it to the finals, he figured Matt wouldn't be interested in his random broomstick facts or the latest statistics regarding injuries incurred while in the air.  

There were some people, like Oliver and many of his siblings, who enjoyed mingling amongst the clouds. They zoomed through the air, without any fear that both hands were not firmly attached to the handle or the fact they were mere seconds away from losing their balance and crashing into the hard earth below them. 

He, for one, preferred to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. Something his younger siblings always found truly appalling; however, it wasn't until his Hogwarts' roommate came into his life that he developed any inclination to overcome his nearly crippling fear of heights. Well, more specifically his fear of plummeting to his death. He shouldn't have cared whether he could impress Oliver with his flying abilities, but he did. Finding he cared quite a bit what Oliver thought of him. Risking life and limb to elicit a coveted "good job" and catch a glimpse of his best mate's mesmerizing smile. The same smile which never failed to send his stomach somersaulting. He should have realized years ago that his affections stemmed from something other than friendship, for as intelligent as he was, he could be concerningly unaware at times. Especially when it came to a non-tangible subject or anything which involved emotions in any way.

"Good seeing you again Wood," Matt's voice was just barely able to be heard over the pulsing music, pulling him out of his thoughts as he snapped back to attention. Watching as Matt discretely tapped his throat with his wand to be able to speak without causing himself to go hoarse. "Why don't you and Weasley follow me, and I will get you setup in the room your group will be using this evening. One of my staff members will be placed at the entrance to give the guests on the list you provided bracelets which will allow them to operate the lifts. All drinks and snacks are provided for you and don't worry, the balcony and rooftop terrace have multiple wards in place to prevent any accidents. Even if someone did manage to go over the edge there are various invisible nets that would catch them. Worst injury they would sustain is a bruised ego and having to suffer the ridicule of their friends."

Oliver grinned up at him, giving him a teasing nudge in the side as they followed Matt's retreating form expertly weaving his way through the throng of intoxicated people. "Percy here will be glad of that. Us Quidditch players have a tendency to disregard normal safety precautions and I am sure he would like to take a break from his job as an important Ministry official this evening. You remember I told you my date is in the running to be the next Minister of Transportation."

"You might have mentioned that fact a few hundred times," Matt gave his former teammate an amused look over his shoulder.

He saw Matt's shoulders start shaking in a silent chuckle as he let out an exasperated groan, shaking his head at Oliver who was staring proudly at him. While he certainly appreciated Oliver's enthusiasm and support for his career aspirations, he simply wished he could do so in a way which didn't involve telling every person in the wizarding world that he was potentially going to be the next Minister of Transportation. It was akin to wishing a Quidditch player good luck verbally before a match, taboo and likely to jinx the process. Not that he could say anything about it to Oliver, the man was practically beaming at him, and he couldn't bear to diminish the light in his eyes. "My official nomination for consideration hasn't even been announced yet," he gently reminded his friend. 

"I know," Oliver shrugged, waving off the reminder as though it was inconsequential. As far as Oliver was concerned his promotion was inevitable and there would be no alternate ending. He only wished he could develop similar confidence in his own abilities. "This next week is the deadline for applications and then your boss will announce the candidates. After that comes the interview process as well as the evaluation of your independent projects. I will probably be in Germany for most of that, but I still expect daily updates. You have my number, and you now know how to work a cell phone."

"I would do as he says," Matt cautioned as they approached double doors he assumed led to the lifts. "I have never met anyone so focused and dedicated in my life. Once he sets his mind to something he goes after it with an intensity which frightens most normal people. I assume it has worked out well for him so far. Not many people are offered even a reserve position for a team like Puddlemere just out of school and certainly don't get moved to a starting position after only a year of training. Not to mention already being captain before hitting twenty-five. That, and he also managed to finally bag you, after what like-"

Oliver made an odd, strangled noise, running ahead to throw his arm around Matt's shoulders and shaking his head side to side in a frantic motion. He thought he might have missed something important in the conversation until he noticed Matt looked just as confused and startled as he felt. The strange reaction from Oliver left him perplexed as Matt lifted his own bracelet to activate the double doors which swung open to admit them.

Currently his date was having a whispered discussion with Matt, complete with a lot of arm waving and shaking of his head while Matt kept gesturing towards where he stood waiting for the lift to take them to the top floor. 

Odd for sure- he would have to gently prod Oliver at a later date to get to the bottom of his weird behavior at Matt's off-handed comment. He didn't really get what the big deal was. Surely, Matt had just been referring to the fact they had supposedly been dating for over three months. That was the only logical explanation. 

The lift opened straight into a massive circular ballroom, little bits of Angelina and George were represented in the decor merging together into an elegant yet somehow still casual setting. He had to admit he doubted Oliver's intuition earlier in the day when he heard the color choices, but it all looked absolutely gorgeous. Little accents of black and a golden hue of yellow dotted the room, a subtle nod to Angelina's team the Wimbourne Wasps; while lights along the edges of the room gave off a purple glow, one of the main colors for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. 

Around the room were several bars, lit with the same purple glow as the main portion of the room, complete with shelves full of various bottles of alcohol and mixers. Multiple high-top tables, with white tablecloths and centerpieces which featured George and Angelina's names in the midst of simple flower arrangements, provided convenient places to stop for a moment and chat with friends. Along one stretch of wall there was an arrangement of leather couches and chairs to offer a small reprieve from dancing, yet the distinct lack of adequate seating for the number of expected guests reinforced the idea that this evening was meant for partying. 

Mere centimeters from the ground in the middle of the black marble floors hovered a massive dance floor complete with George and Angelina's initials in the center of a heart, an arrow through it. Above the dance area a domed ceiling glittered gold with crystal chandeliers casting warm light, providing a more intimate atmosphere than the over-stimulating bottom floor where he could barely move amongst the throng of people and certainly couldn't hear himself think. 

None of that compared to the floor to ceiling glass doors along the furthest curve of the room leading out to the rooftop terrace overlooking London and Tower Bridge, the lights from the surrounding buildings reflecting off the surface of the Thames. While he didn't normally consider London particularly beautiful, by the end of the night he just might have to amend that opinion. The view from the ballroom and balcony was nothing short of spectacular. 

Daytime did not do this room justice; Oliver had been right when he told him that he would just have to wait and see it sparkling in the evening to fully comprehend why this was the perfect location to celebrate George and Angelina's engagement. 

Standing in the middle of the room, wide-eyed and with his mouth gaping open in awe he had to hand it to Oliver, he certainly knew how to pick a superb location for a party.  

"There he is!" George yelled as the lift opened and the Weasley siblings, minus Charlie, and their significant others piled into the room. "The man of the hour and one of the patrons of tonight's festivities, Oliver Wood!"

"And his boyfriend, who is twirling about the room like he is some sort of prince, patiently waiting for another handsome prince from a neighboring kingdom to whisk him about in a waltz," Fred grinned at him, holding out his arms in front of him as he performed a clumsy attempt at a waltz while humming, "da-da-da-da-dum-da-dum-da-dum."

Narrowing his eyes as George clasped his hands with Fred and joined in on the fun of teasing him, the two twirling and spinning around in circles as they danced together.

"Leave your brother alone," Oliver called over his shoulder, finishing up his discussion with Matt regarding this evening and how to request anything additional. 

He was not 'twirling about,' he had simply been spinning in a slow circle because the room was round, and he wanted to take it all in. The snickers from the others were completely uncalled for as well, it wasn't his fault that such opulent locations for parties were not his normal way to spend a Saturday night.   

Angelina shot forward to wrap her arms around Oliver's neck, her long legs dangling in the air as she planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "You wonderful man! Say the magic words to me-" Angelina had Oliver's face sandwiched between her palms with her nose squished up against his, he had his arms around Angelina's waist to keep her from crashing to the ground and he looked less than thrilled with his current predicament. "Say. Them."

"Open bar," Oliver replied, turning his head towards the wall as Angelina let out an ear-piercing shriek and tried to kiss him on the cheek yet again. "Merlin Angie! You are screeching right in my ear, and you know I have a match in a week!"

"You don't need your ear to be fully functioning in order to play Quidditch. Besides, my team is going to best yours regardless," Ginny smirked at Oliver, receiving a scrunched-up nose and his tongue stuck out at her in reply. 

The woman with her arms and legs now wrapped around him paid no mind to his warning as she continued to loudly proclaim her excitement regarding the plans for the evening and listing out every reason why Oliver was her favorite person to ever live. 

"I am going to take this as my cue to leave you all to it," Matt chuckled as he and Oliver clapped each other on the back in some weird one-armed not quite a hug or a handshake since Angelina was still hanging onto his neck. "Let me know if you are in need of anything and congratulations to the happy couple. Thank you for choosing the Cauldron Lounge for your event."

"Thanks again for accommodating us on such short notice," Oliver politely replied, giving George a pointed look and gesturing for him to come and get the woman currently clinging to him like a Bowtruckle. 

Matt raised his hand as he made his way back down the main area of the floor, leaving them to themselves and the twins were quick to dispel of any niceties, immediately getting down to the serious business of beginning the long night of partying. Suggesting they all share a round of drinks to kick off the evening's festivities before the rest of the numerous guests started to arrive, an idea which was met with boisterous support from everyone involved. 

What was the point of having an open bar if they weren't going to take full advantage of it?

"Vodka tonic with a twist, right?" Oliver's voice sounded right next to his ear, fingers slowly intertwining with his own, a soft smile on his lips. The two of them hung towards the back as his siblings and company all clamored to the front of the bar to order their first round of drinks for the evening. "That used to be your favorite."  

"Still is," he whispered as they carefully squeezed their way close enough to the counter for Oliver to order their drinks over the roar of general mayhem his siblings were causing. He would like to believe Oliver was ignorant of what the mere act of holding hands was doing to his waning resolve, however that theory was quickly disproved when Oliver simply would not stop grinning at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

He saw that smile every time he got a quiet moment to himself or when he closed his eyes to try and fall asleep for the evening. Something which was normally an hour-long ordeal; however, with the aide of a certain Puddlemere sweatshirt which still smelled faintly of sandalwood, he found his ability to sleep soundly through the night much improved. An unexpected but welcome side-effect of having Oliver's presence in his life. 

There was a smoldering ember of desire growing within the confines of his chest, the heat causing his cheeks to flush as he tried all of the normal methods to bring his breathing under control and quell the rabid butterflies fluttering about in his stomach. None of them worked; deep breaths- in through his nose and out through his mouth, listing the principles of magic by Adalbert Waffling, categorizing the numerous broomstick regulations, and trying to finally decide between the top two topics for his independent project at work. 

The embers crackled and sparked, overwhelming him. The only thing he could think to do was use liquid in an attempt to extinguish the flame. Lifting his head back and downing his entire vodka tonic in one massive gulp. Smacking his lips together in a satisfied sigh as he set his tiny cauldron down on the bar top with a resounding thump. The universal signal that he was ready for another one and quickly. 

Chuckling softly at the thought that he actually used alcohol to try and put out a metaphorical flame. Considering alcohol was a flammable substance and tended to not be effective, it was amusing to him that reason and logic fled his consciousness for a moment of indulgent self-loathing. He really was going to have to find a way to control himself this evening, lest he bring shame and ruin to the good Weasley name. Already the primary cause of two family scandals, he didn't need to add a third to the list. 

If Oliver found anything unusual about his behavior, he did not express it verbally. Simply raised his eyebrows and ordered another drink from the bartender, handing it over with zero judgement in his eyes. 

This drink he consumed much more slowly, musing over his current predicament in between sips while Oliver's hand rubbed small comforting circles on his lower back. Normally someone would develop feelings before becoming a person's significant other and meeting the family. He and Oliver skipped over all of that, jumping straight into interacting with other people as though they were in a serious relationship. For rather selfish reasons, at least on his part, in the beginning when he first suggested the plan. It was only supposed to be a means to an end. Someone who would get his parents off his back about meeting someone and make social functions more bearable.

He was never meant to actually fall for the person. 

But when he really sat down and thought about it- when had anything in his life ever gone according to his carefully laid plans? 

"Shots!" Ginny announced, handing out something called a flaming lime drop which he was surprised to see had an actual flame on top of the liquid in the glass. 

Fascinating, he thought as he inspected his drink carefully.

Silently musing over whether the flame was one like the muggles used or if it was created with the use of magic. He would think that a magical flame would only be for show and thus make the drink safe for consumption. He honestly couldn't see how putting literal fire down his throat would be the wisest thing he could do this evening, or any evening for that matter. Furthermore, should they even be holding the drinks if it was a real flame? Surely the glass would heat up to unsafe temperatures that would potentially burn their fingers or even cause the glass to explode, tiny fragments imbedding themselves into body parts never meant to endure such trauma. Not to mention the issue of possibly setting their clothing on fire due to not holding the shot carefully and away from their bodies, and it was his family after all- more specifically the twins. Those little pyromaniacs would definitely set something ablaze by the end of the evening.  

This was why he was much better off hidden away in some booth with a massive book in his lap. Too many possibilities for an evening of fun to turn into a trip to St. Mungos. He simply couldn't ignore the dangers; it was his job after all to account for every possible scenario which could result in injuries and then devise protocols and regulations to prevent such possibilities. Inviting undo danger into one's life simply did not make sense to him and went against everything he stood for. 

"It's a magical flame," Oliver whispered to him, catching onto his silent thoughts and doing his best to reassure him. "Not like the muggle drinks. Perfectly safe to handle the glass and you can even drink the shot without having to extinguish it first. See?" his date commented putting his hand over the top of the glass for a few seconds then showing him his unburned palm. "No possibility of burning your mouth or your throat."

He was still a bit skeptical of the claim the drink was perfectly safe. Further observations would have to be made before he could arrive at that conclusion without any reasonable doubt creeping in. What he did know was Oliver was looking incredibly sexy while he demonstrated safety precautions, he would have to come back to that particular thought at a later portion of the evening. Perhaps when he could quit being such a cowardly little lion and actually do something about the aching need which had now taken up permanent residence in his chest cavity. 

"To George and Angelina!" Fred raised his glass in a toast which everyone participated in. 

"To George and Angelina!" everyone echoed, raising their own glasses before downing the drinks. 

Having been a bit skeptical he was pleasantly surprised to find the flame was merely for show in this instance. No heat to it at all so the shot went down without any issues. The drink itself was rather nice, kind of a tangy aftertaste to it that he enjoyed. Wouldn't mind having another one of those. 

If nothing else the alcohol would at least get him closer to forgetting about the internal war currently going on inside his head. Reason and logic vs. his most basic primal instincts. The winner was yet to be determined. 

While they were enjoying their second round of celebratory shots people were already starting to arrive in droves and joined their group, who he supposed were the unofficial mascots for 'getting this party started' as Penny was apt to say. She would be so proud if she could see him now, he had to remember to ask Oliver for a picture later on to provide as evidence. 

By the sixth round of shots, he had met all of Angelina's teammates, several members from other professional teams, and many students he knew from Hogwarts. Oliver seemed to be on good terms with all of them and greeted them enthusiastically, lots of hugs were exchanged and gentle teasing at the fact that he was dating Angelina's future brother-in-law. Of course, Oliver just grinned at them and joined in on the merriment. Keeping one hand on his lower back and sneaking him amused glances and the occasional wink. 

As more and more people stepped off the lift, he began to realize just why they needed such a large room to begin with. Apparently, Angelina and George really did know several hundred people who were free on a Saturday night. Being a professional Quidditch player and a business owner in Diagon Alley would lend itself to having quite a large social circle, he mused. Very different to his own which consisted primarily of his family members and their significant others. 

Perhaps as a distraction to his newfound crush he could focus his efforts during Oliver's three-week tour in Germany on finding himself some additional friends. At least it would give him something to do other than desperately pining after a man, which was really just a pitiful way to spend almost an entire month. 

"My teammates are about to be here," Oliver said after checking his phone, placing it in the back pocket of his jeans and grabbing his hand to make their way towards the lift. 

He had to admit he was just a bit terrified of Simone. When he confessed weeks ago that Charlie knew about the fake dating plan, Oliver had a similar confession of his own. Sheepishly admitting that Simone was his best mate and could instantly tell when he was lying, she didn't buy the secretly dating bit for one second and promptly dragged a reluctant confession out of him. From what little he had been told the words idiots and hairbrained scheme were thrown about quite a bit. Along with several rousing choruses of 'what the bloody hell were you both thinking?'

Sentiments he agreed with wholeheartedly at this moment. What the bloody hell had he been thinking? 

He should have just gone with the plan which involved him choosing someone he and his family simply couldn't tolerate for long periods of time to pose as his permanent date. At least then he wouldn't be standing here sweating bullets over the fact that he was about to meet Oliver's teammates. People who were insanely important in the man's life and ones whose opinions he listened to and valued above all else. Having grown up around Quidditch nuts he knew many people viewed their teams as an almost second family, considering how much time they spent together he could certainly understand how that was the case with Puddlemere's team. 

There was no doubt in his mind that Simone would be sizing him up this evening in an effort to determine if she would allow Oliver to continue with this little plan of theirs. A good first impression was critical this evening. He desperately wanted to impress Oliver's best mate and the rest of his teammates, if they didn't approve of him then the odds he would ever get the opportunity to date Oliver for real diminished greatly. 

Eight people walked towards them, raising their hands in greeting as Oliver waved them over. That signature grin lighting up the man's face as he stood with his arm around his waist while waiting for his teammates to make their way over. Instead of nervous or apprehensive about the interaction, Oliver looked simply elated. Immediately beginning the introductions of his teammates who all shook his hand in turn.

"These are our beaters," Oliver gestured towards two hulking beasts with matching buzzcuts, while Oliver was by no means a small man, he looked positively tiny next to both of his beaters. The one he introduced as Tamas stood at least 6'3", had a square jaw, and looked as if he bench-pressed baby giants for fun. "Tamas went to Durmstrang, thankfully Puddlemere managed to convince him to come to us rather than joining one of the many teams in Hungary who were bidding for his talent." 

"The money helped," Tamas replied in a thick accent, giving Oliver a slap on the back which would have caused an ordinary man to crumple to his knees all Oliver did was grin, completely unfazed. "Nice to meet you Weasley. We have all heard so much about you from Oliver. Apparently, you are in the running for a big promotion at work. I know this because my lovely captain mentions it every five seconds. Makes me miss the days when all he talked about were the strategies for our upcoming match."

Oliver made a sound as if his breath was caught in his throat, his cheeks blooming pink as he leveled his snickering teammates with glares. "Moving on. This is Liam. He is the other beater and went to Ilvermorny. Plucked him all the way from a horse ranch in Montana, which by the way, I am still not convinced is a real place."

Liam let out a rumbling laugh which nearly shook the walls around them. Crossing his arms against his broad chest, leveling Oliver with a playful glare as they shared in an inside joke. "That's only because Hogwarts doesn't teach you wizards and witches in the UK anything practical about the wizarding or muggle world at large. Bet you Percy here would know all about Montana," before he had time to react Liam threw a massive arm around him, shaking him side to side until he felt his brain starting to rattle around inside his head. "Considering he was head boy, took twelve classes, and got perfect scores on his OWLS and NEWTS. Give you three guesses who told me all of that information, not that you will need them since you were the smartest person in your class."

"He's so smart he would only need two of the three guesses, eh Ollie?" Tamas elbowed Oliver in the ribs, he assumed the gesture was considered gentle for the beater however were it him he would need to visit St. Mugos for cracked ribs and a bruised abdomen. 

"You like them smart," Liam winked at his captain who was flushing a brilliant shade of crimson at the moment. "We would know, having been present for several of your more sordid encounters while on the road. The walls are thin my friend."

He took a shaky breath, smoothing out his shirt to hide his trembling limbs. Did Oliver really talk about him this often to other people? The implications of such knowledge were more than his fragile heart could handle at the moment. 

Oliver gave a pointed cough, making a cut it out gesture with his hand as most of his teammates dissolved into laughter at some memory from their time together while on tour. "Our snappy little spitfire of a seeker, Avery," Oliver forged ahead with the introductions, pointing towards a girl with dark brown, curly hair which framed her round face and couldn't have stood much taller than five feet. However, given her stance with her arms squarely placed on her hips he got the impression Oliver's description was rather accurate, this was not someone he would want to go up against. "Her parents are both Magizoologists and traveled full-time to remote areas of the world, so she was homeschooled."

All he received in greeting was a curt nod and quick handshake. 

"We have the chasers. This is Emilia," a tall woman with short blonde hair raised her hand in greeting, a warm smile on her face. "She was in Slytherin two years ahead of us and this is her partner, Tara, she is a Medi witch for the Wimbourne Wasps. They plan on eloping next year to somewhere exotic; neither of them sees why they would spend all of that money on a wedding when they could simply have a fantastic vacation plus achieve some tax benefits. Personally, I agree and think it is a stroke of brilliance."

The two girls grinned at each other, elated at the idea of being able to celebrate their love for each other on a warm beach somewhere and not having to deal with the stress of wedding planning.

He agreed with Oliver, their plan was a stroke of brilliance.  

"You remember Simone," Oliver gestured towards his gorgeous best mate, who gave him about as friendly of a greeting as Avery had. Her eyes lingered on Oliver's arm wrapped around him and pursed her lips, attempting to catch her best mate's eye who was doing his best to not look directly at her. "Her husband, Johan, who is about to be promoted from one of the senior managers of the Kenmare Kestrals to a board member for the International Quidditch Association. Not that we expect any special treatment or anything of course. Appreciated but never expected."

"Speak for yourself," Simone laughed as Johan reached out his hand to shake his own with a warm smile on his face. "I am his wife and I expect that when we walk onto a Quidditch pitch we are treated to a match with no bad calls by the referees. There will be no repeat of the Caerphilly Catapults match about six months ago that left Ollie unconscious for nearly twenty hours."

A round of cheers and hoops from the other teammates seemed to support that sentiment. He smiled and nodded along, having absolutely no idea what match they were referring to. Certain that he probably read about the incident in the Daily Prophet, but after a while all of Oliver's numerous injuries sort of melted together into one continuous trip to St. Mungos. It was very difficult to keep up. 

"And last but not least, we have Archie who is replacing Shane as starting chaser now that he is retired. I believe you two already know each other," Oliver finished his quick introductions, stepping back slightly while still keeping his arm around his waist. 

"Nice to see you again," he politely greeted the blonde haired former Ravenclaw prefect who had been a year behind him and Oliver in school. Having spent several nights on rounds with the boy he knew he was a very nice person and always had a bit of a hero crush on Oliver. It had been endearing for about the first half an hour to hear the younger boy go on about how wonderful of a Quidditch player his best mate was, after that it just became annoying. Remembering how he would pre-plan conversation points to keep the topic from straying too close to Quidditch and prompting a gushing recap of Oliver's most spectacular saves. 

Based on the wide-eyed look of bewilderment he assumed not much had changed in the past few years. "Nice to see you too Percy!" Archie replied enthusiastically, clearly still pinching himself over the honor of being pulled up from the reserve team.

"So," Tamas boomed, clapping his hands together. "I hear there is an open bar at this little shindig tonight and that our fearless leader is one of the ones paying. What do you guys say that we ensure Ollie here gets his money's worth? Let that captain's salary do some good in this world."

"Here, here!" Liam agreed, slapping Oliver on the back with such force that he briefly worried the man had snapped his spine in half. "Tamas and I want to get to know our little captain's boyfriend better. Considering he is all Oliver talks about anymore and we had to find out about this very important relationship from an article in the Daily Prophet. Not that we are upset or anything."

"Only mildly betrayed and marginally devastated that one of our best mates would not deem us worthy to know such a momentous development in his personal life," Tamas ruffled an annoyed Oliver's hair. "Now why don't you all go snag us some of these coveted seats and Liam and I will provide everyone with a variety of top shelf drinks."

"Perce likes vodka tonic with a twist!" Oliver shouted after them, nudging his side with a grin as Tamas turned around and gave him a thumbs up. 

Johan put his arm around Simone's waist, leading her towards an empty section of chairs with a shake of his head. The rest of them following behind as the two beaters made their way towards the nearest bar. "The way those two talk you would think they are hurting for spare change. Even the Chudley Cannons, who haven't won a championship game since 1892 and haven't caught the snitch all season, still make quite a bit of money. More than some mid-level administrative employees."

"They're idiots," Simone tipped her up to smile lovingly at her husband, then turned her head to stare directly at Oliver who shifted uncomfortably. "Must be something in the water. Seems to be going around."

Apparently, Simone had not forgiven him as readily as Oliver had. A nervousness crept into his stomach at the thought of having a conversation with Simone regarding his supposed relationship with Oliver. How was he supposed to convince the best mate that his intentions were not malicious, and he did have real feelings for her best mate when he couldn't even bring himself to admit this to Oliver? It was simply too soon for him to know, no good could come of him rushing into blurting out every thought running through his head. 

He would have to do something though. The disdain was rolling off of her in waves, causing an obvious tension between her and Oliver. 

There were some murmured discussions over who would sit where, sprinkled in between the much louder arguments over Quidditch stats and who Puddlemere would likely be playing in the championship game. The teammates without partners present this evening were quick to claim the couch, ensuring there was enough space on either side for Tamas and Liam. The two other couples grabbed a chair each, leaving Oliver and himself with quite the predicament. 

One chair and two bodies.

Oliver gestured to the seat, graciously yielding it to him and claiming he was far more comfortable sitting on the arm of the chair or the floor. Citing the flimsy excuse of needing to maintain better posture so he wouldn't lose valuable back and abdominal muscles built up during off-season training. 

He didn't buy that for one second. They were both adults here and this was simply a consequence of their mutual decision to pretend to date each other. It was just a chair, and they could behave themselves for one evening. 

"Don't be silly," he gestured for Oliver to have a seat. "Plenty of room for both of us."

"I..." Oliver trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck as he seemed to be debating his life decisions up until this point. 

Avery scoffed at him, crossing her legs as her eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "Just sit down the both of you. No need to complicate things unnecessarily."

Oliver plopped down in the chair, giving a low grunt in place of any sort of verbal acknowledgment. Sighing softly to himself, he sat down as well, legs stretched carefully out across Oliver's lap. Instead of thinking of the muscular thighs beneath him, he instead focused on Archie's questions on what he had been up to since graduating Hogwarts and if he was still in contact with Penny. He was in the middle of explaining the requirements for the promotion he was applying for when he felt Oliver's hand rest on his knee. 

Not that he thought much about it as he detailed the two projects he was wavering between. "You have to strike a balance with the cushioning charms placed on broomsticks. Too much weight on one area and you run the risk o-of-" his voice caught in his throat as Oliver's long, nimble fingers traced a pattern up his thigh. Glancing over at his date he found he was talking to Simone and her husband; the only sign was that Chesshire grin he always got when he knew he was doing something mischievous and was likely to get away with it. 

"What?" Oliver asked in an innocent voice, that knowing smile still stretched across his lips. Feigning concern over why his date had suddenly stopped talking and was staring at him, his hand trailing up his thigh until he almost reached his hip then made its way back down. 

Cheeky little flirt. Two could play this game.

"Nothing. Throats a little dry," he replied, adjusting his position so the outside of the outside portion of his left thigh was pressed firmly against Oliver's lap while his right foot trailed up the man's calf. Pleased with himself when Oliver swallowed hard, eyes flickering down as his foot continued to trail up his muscular leg. "Ah good. Here comes Liam and Tamas with our drinks."

Hiding a smile as he took the offered drink from Tamas, satisfied that he had successfully ensured Oliver's hand would be staying on the inside of his thigh where it belonged.  

So far, his plan of not pining after this man and playing it cool was just going swimmingly off course, per usual. It didn't help that Oliver seemed to have some sort of alternative plan in mind for their evening, one which foiled his own at every turn. Not that the man was divulging any useful information, coy as always and just slightly devious. A truly terrible combination really. 

"Tastes expensive," Emilia held up her electric blue cocktail with an orange slice on the side, giggling with her fiance who were sitting together in a tangle of limbs. Impossible to know where one ended and the other began. 

Tamas set down a try of assorted delicious looking hors d'oeuvres, leaning forward carefully so as not to take a tumble off of Oliver's lap and break his neck he picked up something wrapped in bacon and took a delicate bite. "We made sure of it. Nothing but the best for his favorite teammates," Tamas winked at Oliver, handing him a large tumbler filled with amber colored liquid and a cherry on top. "Got you one of your favorite drinks mate. I know you don't like your alcohol overly sweet."

"Our sweet little captain has graciously spared no expense this evening," Liam grinned over at Oliver who just rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his own cocktail. Glancing over he found Oliver grinning idly as he sipped on something which smelled strongly of whisky, his calm demeaner indicating he didn't actually mind his team partaking in as many drinks and snacks as they wanted. "We will repay him by winning our game on Saturday and getting him in hot water with his boyfriend's sister. You will have to fill us in on how that little confrontation goes during your family's Sunday dinner when little Ginny just starts whooping Ollie's ass."

"Why am I whooping Ollie's arse?" Ginny asked, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa while Harry leaned over the back. Both of them sported their own cocktails, eyes holding the telltale glaze which suggested they were well on their way towards needing a sober up potion by the end of the night. "Not that I really need a reason."

Oliver shook his head at her, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Why are you two here? Don't you have an entire room complete with outside area to be somewhere else in?"

"My dear Oliver," Ginny said in a voice which reminded him of honey. "We can see you and my older brother groping each other from any vantage point in this entire ballroom. We simply came over to ensure the two of you don't incite a series of rather sordid articles in Witch Weekly."

"I told her to leave it alone," Harry offered with a shrug and sympathetic smile. Though, he was certain Harry hadn't tried that hard to stop Ginny from doing what she wanted and sticking her nose into their private business. 

Oliver's face and neck began to show red splotches, matching the ones he was sure were present on his own body. Oliver's eyes narrowed, tapping his fingers against the slim leg still resting comfortably in his lap. "Witch Weekly might be interested in what I have to say... about you... Harry... and the Chudley Cannon's stadium..."

Ginny raised herself to full height, bristling at Oliver's triumphant grin. "Witch Weekly might also be interested in a particularly sordid pre-match ritual with a certain ex-boyfriend the newly appointed captain used to partake in utilizing Puddlemere United's locker room showers."

"Harry!" Oliver gave his former seeker a betrayed look. "I told you that in confidence!"

Harry put his head in his hand, clearly regretting ever coming over here. "She dragged it out of me mate! You know how persuasive she can be!"

"Dragged it out of you?" Ginny scoffed, while the majority of Oliver's teammates all leaned forward looking as if Christmas had come early for all of them. "By dragged you mean you skipping merrily into our house and asking me to guess what you learned about Oliver today. That information that I dragged out of you?"

Simone pulled a lock of her hair over her shoulder, dragging her fingers through it while she watched the interaction with a detached coolness. "Perhaps we can move on," she suggested in a bored voice. "Weasley here was just regaling us all with fascinating tales of broomstick regulations before he was interrupted."

Tamas and Liam were both glancing from Simone to Oliver, shoulders tensed while their facial expressions suggested they were settling in for a good showdown between their two teammates. Perhaps even gunning for a cat fight to break out between them. He couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain that Simone possessed claws he wasn't keen on having sunk into either his or Oliver's rumps. 

"They weren't broomstick regulations," Oliver replied coolly, grinning up at him. "He was detailing his rather brilliant idea to improve the cushioning charm on racing broomsticks in a way that wouldn't weigh down the broom and thus decrease our acceleration during matches. After the sixteen hour match we all endured during the last tour in Morrocco, I for one am elated at not suffering blisters on my poor bottom. He also has some rather intriguing insights into improving the overall design of professional level broomsticks to be made to fit the measurements of the person and position they play rather than the one size fits all standard we have today. I think we can all agree that as the most spectacular keeper in the league I have no need to get above 200 miles per hour during a dive but would have need of a broom that can easily turn at the slightest touch to catch a ball before it zooms through the hoops."

"I take it that means you are volunteering as my official test subject?" he asked, wrinkling his nose playfully at Oliver who gave him a small smile in return. Grateful that his date had not started an argument but rather opted for a pointed, yet kind, rebuttal on his behalf.  

Simone did not look pleased, sitting back in her seat with a huff while her husband attempted to rub her shoulders with a resigned look on his face. Ginny and Harry gave each other a worried glance but didn't comment on her passive-aggressive slight or Oliver standing up for him. Tamas and Liam were caught somewhere between disappointment and relief. Either the others didn't notice anything was amiss or were simply good at hiding their expressions. Lapsing into easy conversation about the one interest they all had in common, the design of broomsticks and modifications which would pave the way towards more effective strategy. 

His free hand found the back of Oliver's neck, rubbing gently on a spot he knew to be particularly sensitive. A silent thank you for coming to his defense without having to be asked. 

At the beginning of this ordeal, he told himself that every soft touch, every gently whisper, and all those times he caught Oliver staring at him adoringly when he thought he wouldn't notice had just been part of their agreement. The two of them leaning fully into their respective parts to fool his coworkers and then his family into believing they were actually dating. It had worked, turns out the two of them were fantastic actors and could be quite convincing when they wanted to be. 

Reminding himself again and again that this wasn't real. They weren't actually dating and the two of them would not end up madly in love at the end of this. 

The line between what was real and was just put on for show was becoming blurred. 

No longer entirely sure which side of the line the two of them stood on. 

A low hiss broke through the murmurs of conversation, smoke slowly filling the floor of the room until their feet were fully covered by purple and gold tinted steam which rose in swirling tendrils towards the ceiling. Everyone began making their way towards the dancefloor, a palpable excitement permeated the room. 

"Looks like the party is about to start," Oliver said right against his ear, breath warm against his face, hand was still slowly running up and down the inside of his thigh. "Do you want to go dance?"

No, he thought, turning his head so he could rest his forehead against Oliver's. I want to sit here and finish what we started earlier this evening.

Not that he could say any of that to Oliver, opting instead to shrug his shoulders. "I fear I am not as skilled at more modern forms of dancing."

"Well," Oliver's grin widened, his fingers tightening slightly around his leg, just as strong of a grip as he imagined the man to have in his daydreams. "Lucky for you, I happen to be fairly adept at dancing which doesn't require the coordinated movement of my feet in close proximity to another person. Just two sweaty bodies pressed up against one another and moving their hips," Oliver's voice dropped an octave, taking on a gravely quality that sent a shiver up his spine as the man's fingers tightened a little more around his leg. No pain, but enough pressure that he leaned in closer and brought one of his hands up to cup Oliver's cheek as his breathing turned ragged. "Doesn't even have to be in beat with the music."

His mouth went dry at the mere thought of being pressed against Oliver, those fingers working wonders on his thigh running over other parts of his body. Nodding his head slowly in agreement with the plan, he took a few steadying breaths and reminded himself of his promise to himself to just attempt to make it through the evening when in such close proximity to Oliver without any incidents. In order to get to the dancing portion of his evening he had to go through the arduous task of untangling himself from Oliver's lap, but he figured it was a small price to pay for what awaited him. 

George and Angelina waved the two of the over, encouraging them to come dance next to them and the rest of the Weasley gang and some of their Quidditch friends. For once he would not be the odd one out in his family, left to stand on the corners of the room without a dance partner while forced to endure hours of glances full of pity and well-meaning remarks regarding his relationship status. 

He felt Oliver's body press against his back, calloused fingertips found his hips, lingering tentatively for a second before slowly inching their way towards his stomach until he was encircled in strong arms. Relaxing into the touch he let his head rest against Oliver's chest as his own arms wrapped around his waist, so his hands were resting on Oliver's forearms, his thumbs lazily rubbing against the smooth skin. 

Tamas and Liam both gave him a wink, making kissing faces at Oliver who seemed to be opting for the route of ignoring their presence this evening and refusing to react to their antics. 

"That's certainly a new development," Oliver murmured to him, nodding his head towards where Fred and Hermione were standing next to each other. Instead of annoyed, Hermione looked- well, not quite happy but not upset about Fred being in her personal space. 

Interesting. 

The screams and clapping from those around him were deafening as a man sitting in a giant black cauldron rose as if from nowhere in a sudden blast of smoke and strobe lights, waving his hands in the air to get people on the dancefloor to yell louder. 

"All right witches and wizards!" the man's voice boomed, met with thunderous applause from the attendees. "We are here tonight to celebrate the engagement of George Weasley and Angelina Johnson!" more applause and several whistles sounded from nearby. "The bar is open, and the night is young. Let's kick tonight off with something to get everybody out on the dancefloor!"

An impressive sound system appeared behind the DJ as the song started booming from the speakers. "1 here comes the 2 to the 3 to the 4, everybody drunk out on the dance floor."

Oliver's hips began to move against his own, trying his best to match the precise movements. The haphazard swinging of his own hips was frustrating him, always finding he couldn't achieve movement which felt natural and was certain he did not look effortlessly sexy like some of the other people on the dancefloor. When he couldn't quite match the rhythm of Oliver's hips he at least tried to move in time with the beat of the song, quickly realizing he simply wasn't skilled at the art of modern seduction. "Relax your hips," Oliver's soft voice instructed in his ear. "Like this," his hands briefly settled back to either side of his hips gently guiding them in time with his own until they found a natural rhythm together. Feeling much more confident in his abilities under Oliver's expert tutelage.       

His skin tingled where Oliver's hands rested against his abdomen. "I feel like a right prat at the moment," he admitted, jealousy flaring at those around him who seemed to have gotten the hang of this a lot more quickly and easier than him. None of them resembled a one-legged banshee who was simply trying not to fall over and embarrass himself in front of a room full of people. 

"I can promise that you do not look like a prat at the moment," Oliver assured him, voice low in his ear. "Sexiest man on this dancefloor would be a more accurate observation."

His heart skipped a beat, grateful he wasn't facing Oliver so he couldn't see the blush rising on his cheeks. "I think that award goes to you," he admitted, there was no denying that Oliver was classically good-looking, and his body certainly left little to be desired. 

Thoughts which threatened to further derail his earlier plans, having never been one to just wing things he felt a bit unsettled at the moment.

Winging things was for people like Oliver, whose rumbling chuckle vibrated off his chest and they continued to dance together. Not him. He needed the certainty and security of having a set plan by which to base his life and subsequent decisions.  

The new plan was to simply attempt to hold himself together for the night until he could sit down and think logically about the situation. He didn't trust any thoughts he had regarding his actions while Oliver's hips were moving in time with his own. Yes, that would be his strategy moving forward. Considering the issue resolved for the moment with a little nod to himself.

Sensible, yet effective. Just the way he liked things. 

"Everybody in the club gettin tipsy, everybody in the club gettin tipsy, everybody in the club gettin tipsy."

Of course, his strategy did not prohibit him from making the most of his evening. 

Noticing many of the couples on the dancefloor were facing each other, he thought that might be a nice change. They certainly seemed to be enjoying it based on the number of public displays of affection he was currently witnessing. Though, he supposed he was amongst their ranks based on his behavior with Oliver this evening, which was certainly a change from his normal style of social interactions. No longer the stuffy Ministry employee who would never dare to show any form of affection towards someone he was dating in such a public location. He was turning into quite the little rebel tonight. 

Being a rebel suited him rather nicely. Though he would still have to remain a reasonably well-behaved one during normal business hours.

Turning around he placed his hands around Oliver's neck, who didn't look at all upset about the seemingly spontaneous change. Best to let him believe he hadn't agonized over whether he would continue dancing as they were or shake things up a bit. He wanted to appear carefree and full of life, someone who would dance about the room as if no one was watching him and didn't think through his actions carefully, weighing the pros and cons before arriving at a decision. Tonight, he would be the exact opposite of normal, boring old Percy Weasley who works a desk job and spends his Saturday nights at home with a pile of books. Or at the very least give a wholehearted attempt at achieving a slightly altered version of himself. 

Olivers eyes gave him an appraising glance, a wide grin spreading across his face as he pulled him as close as possible. Their hips finding a steady rhythm again. He came to the conclusion that he much preferred dancing face to face while pressed up against Oliver. This way he could watch the man's tasteful smattering of freckles be highlighted as the lights passed over them, before disappearing for a moment only to reappear a few seconds later. Shamelessly running his fingers along his broad shoulders, arms, chest, and abdomen without having to explain anything or worry about being too forward with his affections. 

They were in a club after all and when dancing with someone it was standard protocol to run your hands over each other from what he had observed during previous stints at nightclubs with Penny and her friend group. 

His hands found a place to settle on Oliver's lower back, he would later blame it on the alcohol coursing through his system. Emboldening him far beyond what he would normally be capable of in this situation, after all it was right there just mere centimeters away. His hands wandering down slowly until he finally found his target, the bottom which had been teasing him for weeks now. Marveling at how muscular his date really was, he didn't even know if was possible for someone to be in possession of such firm and shapely butt cheeks. He would have to remember to draft an anonymous thank you letter to Puddlemere in the morning. 

The color rose at the base of Oliver's neck, eyes widening slightly but the grin never left his face. Two large hands rested contently on his own bottom as they continued to dance together, he could feel Oliver's well-defined muscles beneath the fabric of his clothing. 

Oh yes, Puddlemere trainers were absolute geniuses for being able to create exercise regimens which could produce something this magnificent. 

His alcohol riddled brain tried to process every emotion flitting across Oliver's handsome face, each darkening of his eyes. He wasn't sure what he would find if he dug beneath the surface and preferred at the moment to exist in a state of equilibrium. Floating between the space of knowing and not knowing if Oliver's motivations matched his own this evening. 

The potential for complete and total devastation was too great. He would be utterly crushed if Oliver did not return his affections, if their almost kiss earlier today meant absolutely nothing. Simply a byproduct of getting swept up in a moment. If every touch and every whispered sentiment while spending time together over the past few weeks ended up being due to Oliver playing a part he had been asked to perform, he wasn't sure his heart would be able to survive such devastation. 

"Do you want to get a drink?" Oliver leaned closer to whisper in his ear, the warmth coming off of him in waves. Watching as Oliver bit his bottom lip in anticipation while waiting for the nod of his head. 

A quick glance at his watch confirmed his suspicions that they had been dancing together for well over an hour now and both of them worked up quite a sweat in the process.

He let himself be led by the hand to the closest bar, while making the extremely important decision between another vodka tonic and potentially branching out a bit. During his deliberations he felt Oliver's arms around his waist again. Hands sliding over his stomach, warmth spread through his body as he felt those long fingers drawing patterns through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

He could do this- he could be strong in his resolve to not let his desire overrule his ability to think rationally. He was a Weasley and Weasleys were known for being tenacious, strong-willed, stubborn to a fault. While he might be vastly different in his general temperament from that of his family, he was certainly a Weasley through and through when it came to his ability to dig his heels in when needed. 

Of course, this was all before Oliver nuzzled his cold nose against his neck. 

Fine, he decided as he melted against Oliver's gentle nudging. Moving his neck to give the man better access. He would allow this, but not because he lacked the ability to resist the man and was rendered utterly helpless whenever he was in his general vicinity. No- it was simply nice. Kind of tickled a bit and sent a pleasant tingling sensation coursing down his spine the closer Oliver got to his ear. Perfectly normal and acceptable behavior on his part.  

"All right you two lovebirds," an amused voice to his left said, turning his head slightly to be met with Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet who were standing with Angelina right behind them. All three looking as though they were prefects who caught someone snogging in an empty classroom after curfew.  

Angelina grinned at Oliver who gave a frustrated huff like he just really couldn't catch a break this evening. "I don't remember a picture of this," she pointed between them, where Oliver was resting his chin on his shoulder, clearly irritated at having been interrupted. "Being in the Daily Prophet. And here I was beginning to believe you two didn't indulge in any activities of this nature. I hope you both had more decorum at that stuffy Ministry party you attended."

"About bloody time the two of you finally got together!" Alicia giggled, giving them a wink. "The tension was nearly suffocating at Hogwarts. We all had bets on how likely it was that you guys were hooking up in secret."                                                  

Katie nodded her head, rubbing two of her fingers together. "The twins lost quite a bit of money because they were simply convinced that nefarious activities were happening on a regular basis in that dormitory. Never could prove anything though."

"So," Angelina leaned her elbow against Oliver who gave a little growl as if he were a cat who wasn't keen on having someone pet him at the moment. "Were there nefarious activities? Did the Head Boy and Gryffindor Quidditch captain abuse their special privileges and access to the prefects' bathroom?"

He took a sip of his drink, glaring at the three women who were all giggling and batting their eyelashes at them. "No," he seethed, annoyed at them for interrupting when he had been so close to potentially getting his neck nibbled on. "There was one magnificent snogging session our last night of seventh year and that was it. Everyone else present was snogging as well, so it doesn't even count as breaking the rules," he realized a moment too late what he just admitted. 

Oliver raised his chin to stare at him open-mouthed, his eyes widening as his eyebrows slowly rose. They hadn't spoken of that night in several years, mainly due to his refusal to admit it happened and then him blaming it on the massive amount of alcohol consumed. Telling Oliver, the kisses meant nothing and the whole ordeal was a regrettable mistake, even though he saw how much that confession hurt him at the time. Pretending like watching the light extinguish in his best mate's eyes as he muttered something incoherent in response hadn't absolutely split his heart into two. He simply hadn't been ready to accept that portion of himself at the time, not that it was any excuse for his actions or the resulting fallout. 

Not that any of that had been Oliver's fault, yet it was him who suffered the most from his indecision and unwillingness to come out to his family. 

"Scandalous!" the three girls squealed at the same time. 

"I always knew you had it in you," Alicia ruffled his hair. "That stern always has to follow the rules exterior is just a front you put on to fool people into underestimating you."

Katie nodded her head, sipping on her martini with a wry grin. "Our Ollie just brings out his wild side. Caught a little glimpse of it while the two of you were dancing, hands all over each other's bodies. It's cute."

He adjusted his glasses, sniffing indignantly at their observations. "I believe we were merely engaging in standard protocol for dancing in a club. Nothing scandalous or wild about it."

"Well," Angelina handed both of them a fresh drink to replace their empty ones. "What do you say the two of you come with us and practice that standard protocol some more? As the woman of honor this evening I would appreciate it if I could dance with all of my friends. The DJ promised me my favorite Beyonce song and Oliver knows that when Queen B starts up that he and I must dance together. It's a rule. I don't care if his boyfriend is here this evening or not."

They shared a look, Oliver smiled kindly at him as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running his hands through his hair. Both shrugging at the same time after realizing they didn't have much of a choice but to go along with the plan. He supposed it would at least give him time to extinguish the embers of desire which were smoldering away again in his chest at the memory of that summer night and a passionate snogging session just on the outskirts of the bonfire. A night which looking back on was probably the turning point, when he realized that he enjoyed the feel of Oliver's hard body against his and the ways his lips moved against his own, soft yet firm. Taking a sip of his drink and giving his head a good shake to rid himself of such intrusive thoughts. 

He really should have known better. Alcohol kills braincells and he if he was going to try and figure out what to do about this little crush, which seemed to have completely taken hold of him and ruined the last shred of good sense he possessed, then he would need every ounce of brain power he could muster. 

He had been doomed from the start, he decided as he followed the girls to where a large group of Weasleys and professional Quidditch players were waiting anxiously for them. Nothing to do now but fall into utter ruin at the hands of Oliver Wood and his inability to stay firm in his resolve against the man's charms.  

"Allright witches and wizards!" the DJ's voice boomed out over the crowd who were all now well on their way to becoming inebriated and having a fantastic time getting there. "We have a special request from one of the guests of honor this evening. A little Beyonce and what I understand is a tradition of sorts. Let's see if they can get their Freakum Dress on."

He looked around not quite sure what was happening as the music started up, Oliver provided no explanation. 

"To be or not to be... Not!"

Angelina beckoned to Oliver as Fred, George, Liam, and Tamas took up their roles as unofficial club bouncers and started to move the sea of people out of the way to clear the dancefloor for whatever was about to happen. Based on the way people around them reacted when Oliver gave him a sheepish look accompanied by a small shrug and joined Angelina on the dancefloor this was a common occurrence between the two of them. 

Oliver gave Angelina a twirl that ended with a low dip, her long hair brushing against the ground before being pulled back into a standing position. The move was met with thunderous applause, while their respective teammates and friends started to chant their names. 

Definitely a common occurrence if Angelina trusted her former Quidditch captain not to drop her on her head. Shaking his head fondly in Oliver's direction as he moved to a better vantage point, settling next to Ginny and Harry who both looked very excited. 

"Hold up, bring the beat back."

The two of them began a coordinated dance with the grace and ease of someone who has performed the task a number of times and can now rely solely on muscle memory. Their movements perfectly in sync with each other as the crowd hyped them up, several people pulling out cell phones for video evidence that the keeper for Puddlemere United and one of the chasers for the Wimbourne Wasps were fairly decent dancers as it turned out. 

More than decent if he was being honest. 

He wondered briefly where Oliver had been hiding these impressive dance skills and what else he had yet to learn about this man. Realizing more and more recently that he really didn't know the Oliver who stood before him today all that well. Perhaps that was where he should begin, change his strategy from trying to entirely avoid the subject of Oliver and his feelings regarding the man and just try and get to know him like one would anybody they were potentially thinking of dating. 

See where it all goes from there. 

Yes, he actually liked that idea very much. Feeling a small thrill at the possibility that he had yet to learn quite a bit about the man who was grinning ear to ear as he danced with one of his oldest friends. 

"I think I'm ready, been locked up in the house way too long."

The DJ was clearly impressed with the display, helping to hype the crowd up as Oliver and Angelina continued. Really milking their moment to shine with every eye in the club on them. 

Not that he was surprised in the least bit. Oliver always was a bit of a ham when it came to these sorts of things. The life of the party and enjoyed being the center of attention. The true embodiment of what everyone believed a Gryffindor's personality to entail, he could have been the poster child for their Hogwarts' house.  

He joined in with the others, clapping in beat with the song as his body bopped along.

"Cause when he acts wrong. That's when you put in on, been on him up tight. This is your song. Hold out your back, time to impress. Pull out your freakum dress." 

George was nearly beside himself while watching Angelina dance, telling everyone and anyone who would listen that he fiance was the hottest person here and this was proof of that claim. Yelling and encouraging her to do her thing. 

He wasn't going to openly disagree with his brother, but he was fairly certain the hottest person here was standing next to Angelina. No that his future sister-in-law didn't look quite stunning tonight in her gold open-backed silk dress that fit her form quite nicely and billowed out at the bottom, swishing against the dancefloor with each step she took. She always looked elegant in his opinion, no doubt that George picked a very beautiful woman to be his future wife. 

Supposing he just favored brown hair and a broader build, someone who wore tailored black suits and always looked dashingly handsome no matter what he put on his body. Who could blame him really?

"When you put it on it's an invitation, when they play your song get on up and shake it. Work it out your back and you don't have to waste it. Spin it all around and take it to the ground."

Oliver and Angelina perfectly executed a rather impressive spin, ending in a full split. Legs splayed out on either side of them, a feat that he wasn't even aware Oliver was capable of, let alone could look so flawlessly sexy while doing so. His hair flopping over in just the right places, and his shirt riding up just ever so slightly so he could get a nice peak at those abdominal muscles.

Both of them got themselves off the floor as though nothing spectacular had just occurred. Continuing on with their dance without missing a single beat and the crowd was loving it based on the sounds of their applause and cheering. 

It seemed that Puddlemere not only encouraged the accumulation of muscle mass but also flexibility. Something he would certainly have to keep in mind, just so he wouldn't worry Oliver sprained a muscle during conditioning exercises of course. 

"You're a lucky man, Percy," Mona giggled at him, her voice slurring slightly as she stumbled into Fleur who was standing at her side, perfectly sober as she and Bill claimed they were too old to drink in excess and preferred to be the designated people to ensure everyone made it home safely. "Any man who can drop it low like that has to be extremely nimble during other activities as well."

"Ok!" Ron appeared at her side with a glass of water and an expression which suggested he wished he could obliviate that comment from his memory. "Don't need to know the intimate details of my brother's relationship."

Ron was attempting to encourage Mona to take a few sips of the water he held up to her lips, while she waved off his attempts to care for her in her inebriated state. Putting her arm around his shoulders and slumping into him while giggling the entire time. He had to put his arms around her waist to keep her from crashing to the floor. "Can he put his legs behind his head? I bet he can!"

"Maybe we should get her into one of the chairs and let her sober up a bit," Bill suggested, gently taking Mona from him and motioning for Ron to grab her other arm so they could lead her towards a chair. The grimace on his face the only indication that he was attempting to pretend he hadn't just heard something which might bring about nightmares for him. As far as he was concerned it was payback for him walking in on a heated snogging session between him and his Hogwarts' girlfriend one summer when he went to get something out of their family's Quidditch shed. 

"Good idea mon amour," Fleur agreed, watching as the two men led Mona towards a chair so she could sit and rest for a bit. "You are a lucky man," she patted him fondly on the shoulder with a wink. "Flexibility is important. Trust me."

He was the one who needed a good obliviate charm right about now. This was really getting ridiculous, even when Oliver wasn't right next to him, he was somehow still responsible for single-handedly breaking down his resolve as intrusive thoughts brought a flush to his cheeks and a swarm of butterflies to be released in his stomach. All he could think about was getting his dance partner back in his arms. 

Biting the inside of his cheek he craned his head above the crowd to find Oliver. Seeing that he was currently standing with Angelina and being showered with praise. Instead of balking at the compliments being heaped upon him, Oliver accepted them with grace. An easy smile on his face, completely relaxed and comfortable with the attention.  

"THAT'S MY FIANCE!" George's screams could be heard around the room, Oliver and Angelina taking a well-deserved bow. "LOOK AT THAT ETHEREAL WOMAN! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHE IS GOING TO MARRY ME? LUCKIEST MAN ON THE PLANET!"

If anybody in this room had any doubts that George Weasley was madly in love with Angelina Johnson, he supposed this little display should clear up any lingering questions, if not their subsequent snogging session should just about do it. 

Oliver made his way over to him, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow. Honestly, was there anything that made the man look bad? Were it him who was sporting sweaty hair and glistening skin he would have resembled a drowned rat. His hair would have been sticking to his forehead and little beads of sweat would be falling from his jaw onto the neck of his shirt.  

Of course, Oliver made all of that look bloody fantastic. He already resembled a Greek god or one of those marble statues he had seen in a museum with those chiseled muscles and tanned skin, this simply added to the overall illusion. 

Why Oliver was sweeping him up in his arms with a giant grin on his face was beyond him. The fact this man even looked twice at him was nothing short of a miracle. 

"Should I teach you those dance moves now that you have perfected the art of other forms of dancing?" Oliver held him close to him, that adorable little head tilt of his making an appearance.

He leaned in until their noses were rubbing against each other, both legs kicked up in the air as he let Oliver hold his entire weight. "I think I need another dancing lesson from you," he murmured in a low voice. "I haven't quite gotten all of the hip movements down."

Oliver was studying him with a small smile, blinking a few times as he seemed to decide something. His eyes had a determined look as he leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. 

"You two can shamelessly flirt with each other later," Fred butted in right as Oliver's mouth opened, snapping it closed with a resounding click before he turned to glare at his former beater. "Right now, we need to have a Weasley sibling dance party." 

George and Fred grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking him away from Oliver's arms who looked like he was going to absolutely murder those two if he got the opportunity. "You are with us," George instructed him as he reached out his hand for Oliver to save him as he was being carted off by the twins who each had one arm, his feet dragging out in front of him. Whatever Oliver was about to tell him he very much wanted to hear. "Ollie your teammates said something about wanting to dance with their captain who has been far too wrapped up in that cute boyfriend of his, this evening," George called over his shoulder, throwing Oliver a fetching grin. All he received in response was a death glare and a few muttered words, probably nothing Oliver would ever care to repeat to George's face. 

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Fred winked at him, pulling him into a dance as his other siblings all gathered around and began to move their bodies to the song playing. 

He shook his head at his twin brothers who were grinning at him, realizing this was a lost cause. Best he could do was go along with their whims and make his great escape later in the evening. "So I hear," he muttered ruthfully. 

He humored his family, doing his best to be an active participant in the bonding experience as they called it. While awkward at first to pump his arms in the air and bend his knees up and down he had to admit that he was having fun. Not that he would ever admit this fact to any of his siblings, seeing as how he would never hear the end of it. 

The base thumped from the sound system, the deep thrumming keeping time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat. His attention always seemed to drift over to Oliver who would occasionally catch his eye across the dancefloor and give him an enticing little smirk, wiggling his bottom before continuing to dance with one of his friends. Glancing over his shoulder to ensure he was still watching him, a satisfied grin on his face when he found his date's gaze had not drifted. 

Their eye contact lasting longer and growing in intensity as the night wore on, butterflies erupting in his stomach each time he caught a glimpse of Oliver staring directly at him. 

It was like a gravitational pull, one from which he could not escape. The scariest part was he didn't feel that niggling little tension in the pit of his stomach which told him to fight as hard as he could to change course. Without that he was certain he would simply keep being pulled closer until he was within Oliver's orbit and would subsequently fall. The closer he inched towards that point the more he found he was looking forward to the crash, knowing that strong arms would catch him and keep him safe. 

"Keep drooling like that and you are going to get dehydrated," Ginny remarked, siding up next to him so they could have a conversation without screaming at each other. 

"It's just not fair," he moaned, watching as Oliver did some sort of move with Angelina where both of them dropped their bottoms to the floor. That wasn't so bad actually, it was the part where the man had to stand back up which nearly made him faint on the spot. Especially since Oliver ensured they locked eyes before doing so, feeling his neck start to heat up and his breathing go shallow. The suddenly overwhelming need for somebody besides himself to know his feelings for Oliver was as effective as a few drops of veritas serum and his inner thoughts came tumbling out. "Who gave him permission to be that bloody good looking? It should be illegal for a man as attractive as he is to just wander around in normal society. Likely to start some sort of riot."

Ginny threw her head back and laughed, turning her head to give his date an appraising once over. "Well, then good thing you don't work in the Auror office, or your poor boyfriend would be in some serious legal trouble because he is bloody gorgeous. Professional Quidditch had been very good to him, that man has developed muscles I didn't even know existed. Half of the girls at Hogwarts were desperately in love with him during my first and second year. If he wasn't gay and obviously far too wrapped up in you to notice another single person, and I wasn't dating Harry, I might have tried to seduce him a bit. Just to see."

"What would Harry have to say about that little confession?" he teased, trying his best to move his limbs in a way which didn't come off as robotic. Turns out dancing was rather difficult when he didn't have a solid body to move his hips against or when he was wasn't dancing to try and impress a certain person from across the dancefloor. 

"He agrees with me," Ginny lifted her brows. "You should have been there when I showed him the picture in the Daily Prophet. That man sat at our table, in our kitchen and just shrugged his shoulders. Then he had the audacity to inform me that he has seen the way his former captain looks in one of those tailored suits and didn't blame you in the slightest for having a big smile on your face or awe-struck eyes. Really it's me who should be jealous in this situation."

He was silent for a moment, not really knowing how to process that information. "Oliver did look quite handsome in his suit that night," he mused, remembering how speechless he had been when he first got a good look at Oliver in that suit. Should have been his first clue he would end up a confused mess. "It was all black and tailored perfectly, the exact right amount of tightness. Tasteful and classy yet really highlighted his firm arse and broad shoulders and chest without being obvious. Not to mention those abdominal muscles, I still don't understand how it is possible to be able to tell someone has a six pack through their shirt."

"I'll be sure to let Harry know all of that," Ginny smirked at him. "Just know that our mother will blame you when Harry leaves me for his former Quidditch captain. You know how excited she is about officially having him for a son-in-law."

"Well, you will be happy to know that Harry isn't Oliver's type. So, there really isn't anything to worry about there. Harry might leave but he will come straight back after being rejected, kindly of course."

"Oh good!" Ginny did a provocative move in the direction of her fiance, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Harry got a good view of her short emerald green dress and knew exactly what he would be missing out on should he ever think of actually leaving. "You have no idea how relieved that makes me. I was really worried for a moment."

Harry stood transfixed on the spot, his movements gradually stopping and his mouth falling open as Ginny moved her body, beckoning him forward with her pointer finger. 

"Are you trying to give me nightmares?" he hissed, watching Harry as moved towards them in a daze. A giant grin spreading across the man's face as Ginny continued to run her hands over her body in an unnecessary effort to entice her fiance into sharing a dance.

"Always," Ginny put her arms around Harry's neck, moving her hips in ways which he was certain he was never meant to witness. "Now, go dance with your boyfriend. That poor man had been shaking his arse in your direction to get your attention for a while now and I am beginning to feel sorry for the fellow."

He threw a glare at his sister and Harry, who were now snogging in the middle of the dancefloor.

No decorum whatsoever, he muttered to himself, fussing with his outfit so he would look pulled together for Oliver. Finding the man had a slight pout on his face from being ignored for a few minutes, rather rude of him actually when Oliver was clearly trying to subtly flirt with him and giving him some of his best moves. 

Supposing that he should go make up for the brief period of time Oliver did not have his full undivided attention, he made his way across the dance floor pushing people out of the way so he could reach his target. "Percy!" he turned his head to see Liam and Tamas waving at him. "You and Oliver shake your asses over here and dance with us!"

"Maybe later," he replied, looping both thumbs around the belt loops in Oliver's jeans and pulling him by the waist as he led the stunned man away from the group. Not bothering to spare the two beaters a second glance, the brown eyes directly in front of him were far too mesmerizing to look away from. "My date owes me a dance and I intend to ensure it happens."

He was certain they said something in response, but he couldn't hear them over the thumping of his heart in his chest. 

Chapter Text

"There's something 'bout the way the street looks when it's just rained. There's a glow off the pavement, you walk me to the car and you know I want to ask you to dance right there. In the middle of the parking lot... I wonder if you know I'm trying so hard not to get caught up now, but you're just so cool run your hands through your hair absentmindedly, making me want you. And I don't know how it gets better than this. You take my hand and drag me headfirst, fearless... You put your eyes on me in this moment now, capture it, remember it." Taylor Swift- Fearless

The lights overhead reflected in Oliver's eyes, bringing out the flecks of gold as they sparkled and shimmered while being led to a portion of the dance floor away from the others where they could have a private moment together. 

An overwhelming want snuck up on him from the quiet depths of his soul- a need to close what little space existed between them. Putting one arm around Oliver's waist and the other around his shoulders he tugged the man towards him until they were pressed tightly against each other. Breath hot against their faces as he took the opportunity to study his date without having to pretend like he was just engaging in proper eye contact when conversating. 

His long lashes fluttered against his tanned skin as he blinked slowly at him, occasionally brushing against one of the freckles which dotted his nose and upper portion of his cheeks. Freckles that he knew would become more prominent as the warmer months approached, the amount of time spent sitting beneath the sun directly correlating to their appearance on his handsome face. His lips parted slightly in surprise at suddenly having his date grab him and pull him into a dance, feeling his chest shudder against him as his breathing became more uneven the longer they stood in silence.

Oliver looked up at him, brief confusion flashing across his face. He felt a twinge of guilt, not having spared much thought for how perplexing this all must be. He gave him a kind smile and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, hoping to quell any concern he might be feeling at the moment. Swallowing past the sudden dryness in his throat as his fingertips glided over Oliver's smooth skin. "I missed dancing with you," he explained as a way to justify stealing Oliver away from his friends and pressing his body against him. 

"I missed dancing with you as well," Oliver grinned at him, having almost recovered from his brief faltering although he could still hear the change in the man's breathing. "I was beginning to wonder what exactly I was going to have to do to get you to make your way over to me. Thought you might have grown bored of me."

They began to move their hips at the same time, finding that easy rhythm they had earlier in the evening. Having finally remembered the entire point of this encounter was to actually dance and not stand in front of each other with their lips so close together it would only take the slightest movement to brush against each other. "I could never get bored of you," he promised, bringing one of his hands up to let his fingers get tangled in the soft curls. Feeling much better since he got his warmth and comfort back, now that Oliver was in his arms once again and smiling at him in that fetching way of his. "Besides, I believe you were the one who was ensuring I was well aware that you were in the general vicinity."

"I believe you were the one who couldn't keep your eyes off of me," Oliver shifted slightly, his lips twisting as though unable to decide between being amused and intense consideration. His breath hitched when Oliver lifted his head up so he could rub their noses together, nimble fingers undoing the first few buttons of his button-down shirt and slipping under the fabric to gently trace the outline of his collarbone. "I do admit that I did my best to keep your attention."

He could feel Oliver's heartbeat thumping as they continued to dance with each other, his own matching pace. His chest warmed with the knowledge that Oliver wasn't pulling away at his touch, seeming to want to entangle themselves together further and finding small ways to adjust their positions so there was as little space for air to flow between them as possible. "You were quite convincing. I did give ignoring your antics my best shot though."

"Hmmm," Oliver hummed against him, his nose once again nuzzling against his neck. Breath warm and soft lips sliding against his skin as they slowly made their way towards his ear, counting his freckles along the way. "I don't believe that for one minute. I don't think you were trying very hard this evening at all."

"Well," he shuddered at the white-hot sensation trailing up his neck, tightening his grip around Oliver's waist, his fingers burrowing further into those soft curls. The embers smoldered in his chest again, warming him as the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could filter them. "Perhaps if someone didn't have such gorgeous brown eyes then I might stand a fighting chance. It's just not fair you know. How am I supposed to resist them?"

They were both silent for a minute as one song ended and smoothly transitioned into the next one without a break in the booming beat, the upbeat tempo keeping time with his own heart beginning to race while waiting for a reaction to his confession. Oliver lifted his heels off the ground, standing on the balls of his feet so his mouth and nose were right against his ear, ensuring he heard him over the blaring music. The Scottish bur rumbled against him, shivers trailing down his spine while a hand continued to run along his collarbone. "You should see them in the moonlight. The balcony is free if you wanted to have a break from the club, just the two of us- alone."

That one word- alone. That was all it took. A faint flicker of hope broke though the blurry haze surrounding him, the possibility that perhaps he hadn't yet again ruined everything by his indecisiveness earlier in the evening. A chance to ensure Oliver would not remain the one who got away. 

"Tha-that would be good," he replied, emitting a small noise as he closed his eyes for a moment. Everything was starting to go on a loop in his mind; the loudness of the room, the heat from their bodies pressed against each other, the methodic movement of their hips which had since stilled, the feel of Oliver's nose and lips brushing against his skin.  

He should be reasonable and logical, step in to say they were getting a bit carried away. They had agreed after all to not allow the charade to go too far, spill over into the territory of actual intimacy reminiscent of a romantic relationship. While his feelings on the subject had certainly changed since that night when Oliver cooked for him and they went over their ground rules, he wasn't entirely sure where Oliver stood on the subject. Fairly certain the man might have some end-goal for the two of them which was a bit more heated than two people who were simply each other's dates to functions. Though, it was hard to know for sure exactly what Oliver had in mind if he wanted more from him than just a platonic date to the Quidditch banquet in June.

The lines between what was real and what was done to keep up the appearance of a fake relationship were blurred beyond recognition, but he currently lacked the ability or motivation to rectify the situation. His knees were barely holding his weight and he was simply thankful he had Oliver to keep him upright. Clinging to him like he had the side of the boat during first year when he hadn't trusted the enchanted rafts to safely get them across the Black Lake where his older brothers had informed him a man-eating giant squid lived. Oliver had offered him his hand to steady him as he climbed into the boat, which swayed from side to side causing him to attempt to jump back onto dry land and make his way to a shop in Hogsmeade and inform his mother and father by owl that he would simply have to be homeschooled. The entire ride across the vast expanse of lake Oliver had kept one hand lightly gripping his upper arm, asking him for a summary of what he had read in the textbooks since the boy had not bothered to do the necessary summer reading to prepare for the school year ahead. The first time he thought that perhaps the overeager boy he met a few hours earlier on the train, who was so quick to befriend him without a second thought, might not be so bad after all.  

Oliver pulled back, his face was flushed, unable to tell if it is from the aftereffects of alcohol or perhaps from memories of their time before the war flashing through his mind as well. "Shall we?"

Nodding his head, he continued to let Oliver hold him upright, taking a few seconds to let the daze lift and fortify himself enough to walk across the room and towards the balcony. To once again be treated to the sight of moonlight reflected in Oliver's eyes. He knew exactly how spectacular the sight was, a nighttime walk around the grounds of Hogwarts fifth year when he first realized that Oliver really did have gorgeous eyes, after that all he could notice were those flecks of gold and how they danced and shimmered in the various glows of light. Moonlight would always be his favorite though, for it was beneath the soft glow of the moon seventh year that he realized he might one day be able to truly fall for his best mate, if he could simply learn how to set aside his fear and reservations long enough to allow the inevitable to occur. 

Something he had not yet mastered but was actively working on at the moment. 

"May I take your hand?" Oliver asked, his head tilting to the side. Leaving him wondering if Oliver meant for his question to be almost identical to the one he posed first year, when he offered to be a steady and comforting anchor to help coax him onto the rickety boat and quell his growing anxiety. 

"It's all yours," he finally found his voice, holding out his hand for Oliver to grasp delicately in his own.

Unsure if he was talking about his hand or his heart. 

Perhaps a bit of both.

The sky was clear, twinkling with stars just barely visible through the light pollution of the city. The temperature had cooled off significantly from earlier in the evening but would still be considered on the warmer side for an English spring night, holding a promise that summer was just on the cusp and soon they would all be greeted with weather which wasn't perpetually gray and rainy. It was now nearing two in the morning; a quiet stillness began to settle over the city which was normally bustling with constant movement. 

They sat next to each other on a bench overlooking the Thames, feet stretched out in front of them with Oliver's arm around his waist and thighs just barely touching each other, sipping on their respective glasses of water. While he admired Oliver's ability to be a fantastic conversationalist, he appreciated they could also simply sit in complete silence without the lack of chatter feeling awkward or uncomfortable. Having been on many dates where the moment the words failed either of them the atmosphere became suffocating, leaving him with the overwhelming sensation that he needed to say something just to fill the void. The silences were when he felt closest to the man, a brief glimpse of the person underneath the confident persona of the Puddlemere captain.  

Knowing that not many got to the see the softness underneath that tough exterior. Not realizing how gentle and sweet the man truly was, never hurt a single soul in his entire life and fiercely protective of those he cared about. The best friend one could ever ask for, willing to give you anything you asked of him yet often required nothing in return for his kindness.  

Oliver rested his foot against his own, neither of them speaking for fear of breaking whatever spell had taken hold of the evening. There was something about being the only two people on the balcony, beneath the sea of stars in almost dead silence which made the whole experience seem almost like a shared dream. Speaking would bring reality crashing down around them and for the moment he didn't want reality.  

At least for the span of a few moments he could just allow himself to fall, let the smoldering embers in his chest come to life. He could finally allow himself to put aside all rational thought and logic, all his fears and doubts which told him to run at the first hint of developing actual feelings for someone. To finally experience what the beginning of a romantic relationship should feel like; he was going to get the butterflies, the fireworks, the dizzy feeling as if he was falling but not really, everything people had told him about, yet he always assumed were not in the cards. 

Oliver pulled out his wand, giving it a quick flick as soft music began to play from some unknown location. Certain it was much different to what the others inside the club were experiencing. He didn't mind, this was more intimate, a moment just for them. 

There was a heat to Oliver's eyes as he rose to stand in front of him offering his hand in a silent invitation, extending his own to let himself be pulled into a dance beneath the night sky illuminated by the fairy lights twinkling above them. Oliver gently grasped his hand, tugging him into a standing position and pressing his lips to his knuckles with a timid smile on his face. 

"We were born into a world on fire."

They wrapped their arms around each other as they had multiple times before when they shared a slow dance. This time felt decidedly different. 

The comforting familiarity of the moment was still there, though now there was a hazy quality and an underlying crackle as they swayed to the floating melody surrounding them. An intensity between them which made him lean in a little closer than he ever had before, his heartbeat sporadically increasing as his breath hitched in his chest at Oliver's adoring expression. Finding he wanted to be adored and longed for the opportunity to adore him back.    

"But I know that we were meant to be."

One hand resting on the small of Oliver's back, he brought the other up and pushed a strand of hair back into place. Moonlight reflected in Oliver's darkening eyes as he let his tingling fingertips slowly trace along the strong jawline right in front of him that begged to be committed to memory. 

Lingering on the man's lips as he followed their outline, marveling at how perfectly shaped they were and silently debated if they would feel as wonderful pressed against his own as he remembered. 

"When the smoke and flames build up too high."

He let his head drop down until his forehead rested against Oliver's, a warmth and softness about the man he held in his arms that he couldn't quite put into words but wanted to hold onto for as long as possible. 

Oliver shifted slightly, nuzzling their noses together as their lips briefly grazed each other. 

"You're always there for me, you clear the air I breathe."

A contented sigh escaped the man's lips as those striking brown eyes fluttered closed, long lashes splayed across the crest of his cheeks dotted with faint freckles. The smell of sandalwood, leather, and an earthy fragrance mingled with the Jasmine creeping up the trellis as they swayed in a warm embrace. 

His fingers slowly dragged down Oliver's jaw to find placement under his chin, drawing his face up. Warm breath against his mouth, then the press of lips.

"We have known this world in times apart."

Tentative at first as their mouths responded to the new pressure, growing more sure as he cupped Oliver's cheek and pulled him even closer to deepen the kiss. A small noise escaped the back of Oliver's throat, feeling his hand move up the back of his neck. Strong fingers gripped and pulled at the strands of hair, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to spur the two of them on. Lips moving in sync with each other as they both seemed to cease to breathe for what felt like an eternity and yet as though no time at all had passed. 

Oliver pulled back; his expression unreadable as they both tried to bring their gasps and pants under control. He knew his cheeks were flushed and his pulse pounded in his ears while they stood there in silence, fingers embedded in each other's hair. Oliver's lips parted in what he assumed was an effort to say something, completely caught off guard when he was pulled into a second kiss. Just as passionate and tender, sweet and soft as the first. 

"You're in all the faded memories. It wouldn't matter if the skies went dark."

Melting into the man as he kissed everything he couldn't bring himself to say at the moment onto Oliver's lips. How he had never truly gotten over the man, his presence lingering in the back of his mind all those years when he let pride stand in the way of a reconciliation between the two of them. The way he loved how his name felt on the tip of his tongue. Those brown eyes with the flecks of gold which lit up every time they were in the same room, that smile which made him weak in the knees. The casual intimacy which existed naturally between them. He would sometimes catch a glimpse of Oliver's ever-present smile in the corners of his periphery, the world would go still for a breath or two and he would forget his own name. 

He thought he had gotten over him years ago, instead he had simply buried his thoughts surrounding Oliver deep beneath thick layers of fear and regret. Not truly gone, but simply needed a chance for Oliver's sweet and loving nature to bring all of those lingering feelings bubbling to the surface. 

Oliver was like sitting inside on a cool autumn day when the threat of winter hung in the frigid air, curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket with a good book and a steaming mug of tea while a crackling fire roared nearby. A soft loveliness to every moment he spent with this man, filling him with an overwhelming sense of comfort and peace. A tenderness and care to every touch which he had never been able to recreate with anyone else. 

He tried to tell Oliver he was trying his best, he just needed him to be patient with him a bit longer and he promised that he would never do another thing to cause his heart even the slightest hint of agony or torment for as long as he had the opportunity to be a part of his life. 

He was sure, as sure as he had ever been in his entire life. 

"Your heart is all I need, I'm drawn to every piece."

They broke the kiss at the same time, when the air they shared between them had finally run out. Gasping as they breathed roughly against each other’s lips, arms still holding the other close. Pulling in ragged breaths through his nose and trying to let them out slowly through his mouth, to bring his heart rate back down to baseline and his respirations to an acceptable rate. It was nearly impossible though as he was completely mesmerized and entranced by the most perfect man standing in front of him, each time one of Oliver's hands moved or he felt his hot breath which smelled like whisky and a hint of vanilla his body would respond by trying to propel his heart out of his chest.

His fingers made their way down to Oliver's neck, that spot he knew to be sensitive and gently rubbed it while his other arm tightened around his trim waist. Oliver hummed, the vibration causing him visibly shiver. Strong arms moved to a position which enveloped him further in warmth, a hand slowly trailing up and down his spine. "Do you need me to cast a warming charm?" Oliver whispered against his lips, never breaking contact so the words were mumbled. 

"Mmmm," he murmured, sighing as he sunk back into a deep and slow kiss. "Just," he managed to breathe out between kisses which heated him up far more efficiently than any charm. "Unbelievably," Oliver's mouth moved along his jaw line and then down his throat, leaving kisses along his pale skin. Happy."

He felt that gravitational pull tugging him closer to Oliver and he didn't make the slightest attempt to pull away, even as he felt himself starting to fall. Slow kisses and strong arms would be there to catch him. 

"You make me feel at home."

***

Around four in the morning when he finally collapsed onto the mattress in his small flat, he floated in a sandalwood scented haze. Not even having the energy to close the curtains, the soft light which filtered through his window beginning to glow warm with the impending dawn beginning the stretch across the horizon. He couldn't bear the thought of blocking out the site of the crescent moon hanging in the sky, having come to associate moonlight as synonymous with a certain Puddlemere United keeper's eyes. Leaving the curtains open he took comfort in the thought that during the three weeks Oliver would be touring in Germany as least they could still share the same night sky. 

That he would always be able to stare into Oliver's eyes. 

Soft music started to play from somewhere in his subconscious and he was transported back to the rooftop overlooking London. His body pressed against Oliver's as their hearts began to beat as one, breath soft and hot against his face as the music carried him far away from reality and into a moment in time where he would never have to leave the safe embrace of Oliver's arms.  

Memories flooded his senses as his consciousness continued to slip. 

The air still brittle with springtime cold he watched their dark shadows dance across the concrete floor of the balcony, waning and waxing along with the twinkling fairy lights overhead. Oliver nestled snugly against him, brown eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Placing a hand on the man's back to feel the slow rise and fall of his chest and the rhythmic beating of his heart, while the other moved through soft curls.

An occasional sigh, a warm puff of air against his neck as his grip tightened to pull Oliver closer. 

Never close enough though, there was always going to be some small gap of space between them no matter how much effort he put forth to ensure that did not happen.   

His heart tugged, fluttering against his ribcage like a small, trapped bird. The song had ended long ago but they still held each other. Their melody became the silence of the night, the stillness surrounding them as if nothing else mattered. A protective bubble where they could shut out the rest of the world for a moment, not have to worry about the reality waiting for them on the other side of the glass doors- ready to tear down everything they had finally achieved this evening. 

There was still quite a bit left to figure out between them and a lot left to say, but he figured all of that could wait until the morning. His feelings for Oliver would still be there when he was ready to bring them to light with the rising of the dawn. 

For now, there was only comfort and stillness in the growing darkness as the city lights faded behind them. The crescent moon and stars overhead reflecting on the surface of the water below. The quiet stillness of the early morning hours while the rest of the world slept soundly in their beds. There was only them. 

His chest lurched again, leaving a slow-moving warmth which flowed through his body. The same as it always was, yet now there was something new creeping in around the edges that he couldn't put his finger on at the moment.

He wasn't going to try, there would be plenty of time to figure that out as well. 

This was all that mattered. 

He kissed the top of Oliver's head and vowed to never let go again. 

To adore. 

The last thought he had before the release of sleep overcame him was the moonlight reflected in Oliver's warm brown eyes as they swayed beneath the sea of stars.

Chapter Text

"Cut my heart about one, two times. Don't need to question the reason I'm yours. I'm yours. I'd move the Earth or lose a fight just to see you smile. 'Cause you got no flaws, no flaws. I'm not tryna be your part-time lover, sign me up for that full-time. I'm yours, all yours... So, what a man gotta do? What a man gotta do? To be totally locked up by you. What a man gotta do? What a man gotta prove?...To be your last 'Good night' and your first 'Good day.'" Jonas Brothers- What A Man Gotta Do

His consciousness slowly returned to him, immediately wishing he had simply stayed blissfully unaware of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was an incessant, steady pulsing against his skull, which felt about three sizes too small. Feeling as though he had been hit squarely between the eyes with a bludger and acquired a rather serious concussion as a result. Thankfully no bludgers were involved in the making of his current nearly debilitating migraine- simply copious amounts of alcohol, which left his tongue and mouth coated in a layer of fuzz along with a distinctly sour taste in his mouth.

Reaching over to his nightstand with his eyes still closed, he fumbled for a bottle of sober up potion and hopefully what would turn out to be a glass of tepid water as well. Finding neither as his hand continued to blindly grasp at thin air, he sunk further into the mattress with a low moan while the pounding continued without showing any signs of dissipating soon. 

There was a faint knock, knock, knock that he now realized was not in his head, he figured whoever it was would either let themselves in or simply go away. Personally, he was hoping for them to just leave so he could nurse this hangover in peace. He also wished the muted sunlight, accosting his eyeballs even though his lids were shut firmly against the unwelcome intrusion, would also simply leave as well. Moving his legs beneath his tangled sheets it took a minute to remember why his curtains were not drawn tight across the window, a certain Puddlemere United keeper's warm brown eyes and how mesmerizing they looked when lit by moonlight. 

Not that he regretted any of his decisions last night, well- maybe he regretted not having the forethought to grab the necessary items to help rid himself of this hangover. As he laid trance-like beneath his now too warm sheets and blankets while sweat started to soak through his shirt, he upgraded that maybe to a most definitely.

He would kiss Oliver beneath the sea of stars a thousand times over. Repeating the series of events which seemed impossibly magical again and again and again, never changing a single thing about those moments they spent dancing together at the club and on the balcony. But he would never again choose not to close his curtains or forget to grab a bottle of sober up potion after a long night of drinking as long as he lived. 

Rolling over carefully he promptly buried his face in the cool pillowcase with a series of loud groans and grunts. After a few minutes of adjusting the positioning of his limbs and upper body, he finally achieved at least a sliver of relief. Eventually he would drag his weary arse out of this bed and make himself a large pot of coffee and maybe have something smothered in grease delivered to him, for right now though he would wallow in self-pity and maybe try to distract himself by focusing on pleasant memories from his evening with Oliver. 

The incessant knocking continued in the periphery of his awareness until suddenly it stopped, a blessed relief really. Perhaps now he could drift back to sleep until he was ready to properly wake up and hopefully be a little less hungover.

"Oh, Percy my dear!" a familiar voice rang through his flat, the front door clicking shut in the distance. "Is it safe for us to come in?" 

The only way he was letting that woman and her fiance accost him in this pitiful state was if they brought him breakfast and set up a direct IV line of coffee straight into his veins. Anything less and he was kicking them out at wand point. 

"Do you have an oh so sexy manfriend hidden away in your bedroom?" Allie's voice called out to him, followed by a chorus of giggles. Their steps continued to creak along the hardwood floors as they made their way to bother him. "Just cover up the embarrassing bits. We won't judge you. In fact, we will both be quite proud of you for finally working a few things out between you and hunky Quidditch himbo."

"No manfriend I fear," Penny sighed heavily as the footsteps stopped right at the edge of his bed. "Unless he is hiding him underneath the bed or in the cupboard. Given Oliver's broad shoulders I don't see either of those options being a viable possibility."

He let out an annoyed groan, still laying prone with his face buried in his soft pillow. Croaking out, "coffee-" in a muffled voice laced with pain from his throbbing headache right behind his eyes and his stomach which rolled over with even the slightest movement of his fingers. 

"We have it," Penny chirped, the heavenly aroma wafted into his nostrils, inhaling deeply as he lifted his head a fraction of a centimeter. Eventually prying one heavily lidded eye open and finding a large take-away cup thrust into his face. "Close your eye, I am going to put your glasses on you so you can see properly."

Doing as he was told he felt Penny carefully slip on his glasses, giving his head a little pat before instructing him to open up his mouth and poured the unmistakably bitter taste of a hangover cure down his throat. Smacking his lips he dropped his face back into his pillow with a thunk and allowed the potion to work its magic as it flowed through his body, dulling the unpleasant side-effects of consuming far too much alcohol in a short period of time. "What time is it?" he asked, time had gotten a bit blurry in his altered state and it could be early on Sunday morning or he could have slept until Tuesday and he was running the risk of being fired from his job. The possibilities were endless. 

"It's half past noon, Perce," Allie took a loud slurp of what he assumed was her own drink. "We brought you food as well."

At the word food his interest piqued. Deciding he now felt well enough to try sitting up without the threat of seeing his vodka tonics in reverse, after some careful maneuvering he was seated in a slumped position which some would consider upright. Thankful he was a wizard and did not have to nurse his hangovers the muggle way, a process which he heard could take up to 24 hours to finally feel somewhat normal. 

"So," Penny gave Allie an amused smirk as they both began to lay out their meal, which was thankfully from a cafe that served brunch and looked to contain an acceptable amount of grease. "What time did you get home last night?"

"Around four in the morning," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee with a satisfied sigh and closing his eyes in ecstasy as the liquid warmed him from the inside out. Pointedly ignoring the fit of giggles his confession was met with. "How did you know that I would be needing this? I haven't had a hangover of this magnitude in years."

The giggling doubled in volume, both girls covering their faces as they ceased to breathe properly for a few moments. Penny let out a loud snort, taking a deep breath to compose himself before pulling out her cell phone and showing him a series of text messages which made his heart give a familiar tug and his cheeks bloom crimson. "Your little manfriend wanted us to come and check on you this morning, since he had a mid-morning Quidditch practice and was worried you would be too miserable to get yourself a proper meal. He also sent flowers in a vase which I put on the kitchen table, just because he thought they would cheer you up while recovering from a hangover of course. Not because you two daft idiots are too stubborn to see that you fancy each other and just drop this ridiculous charade that you are fake dating." 

He took a bite of his brunch, thankfully containing some very greasy sausage and hashbrowns. At this moment they were the best things he had ever put into his mouth. "When did you and Oliver exchange phone numbers?"

"That's what you choose to focus on?" Allie asked through a mouthful of toast and jam, handing her a napkin with a crinkled nose as she wiped away the crumbs clinging to the corners of her lips. "You have a new secret boyfriend and you are worried about how he got Penny's number?"

"Not my boyfriend," he muttered, mixing the tomatoes with his eggs over easy and stuffing a huge forkful into his mouth, suppressing the urge to groan in sheer bliss. Bless that man and his knowledge that it would have taken him hours to actually muster up the strength to pick up his phone and order this for himself. 

Penny rolled her eyes, sighing as she leaned back against the pillows on the other side of the bed as if in defeat. "Just because you are too thick in the skull to see that he is in fact your unofficial boyfriend doesn't mean the rest of us don't see it. Now, tell me all the juicy details which led to this vicious hangover of yours and Oliver texting me to bring you food, which he wouldn't let me pay for by the way. Told me to get whatever my fiance and I wanted. Such a gentleman."

"He sent you gardenias and peonies, amongst an assortment of other wildflowers if you are interested," Allie remarked in an offhanded way, wiggling her eyebrows at him like she had just given him some coded message he should instinctively know how to decipher.

Choosing to focus instead on continuing to eat his food while staring out the window to avoid having to meet either of the women's gazes, which were currently boring holes into his soul. The sun had officially risen and had not brought with it a detailed plan for how he was going to go about telling Oliver he fancied him and was considering terminating their agreement to fake date in favor of a real romantic relationship. 

He was good at many things. A problem solver by nature, always needing a task at hand to mull over and enjoyed noticing patterns in things that many overlooked. It was what made him so good at his job. How he managed to survive the deatheater overthrow of the Ministry and fly under the radar, never suspected of being the one to misplace a file on muggleborn witches and wizards or the reason why the snatchers would often show up to the wrong location. 

What he was not good at was maneuvering the treacherous waters of a relationship with someone. He tended to see things in black and white, not really able to successfully navigate the gray areas. When something did not have a clear answer, he tended to get frustrated and would often just choose the easiest option which avoided any potential conflict. He didn't have that ability in this situation. 

Well, more so that he seemed to lack the ability to simply avoid Oliver altogether. All the man had to do was say his name or give him a certain look and it immediately caused his stomach to somersault. The feel of his lips against his own, soft and sure, the best kiss he had experienced since he was eighteen years old. Definitely made the top five and as it turns out Oliver accounted for the top three spots, so what choice exactly did that leave him? More importantly where did he and Oliver stand on the topic of what they were to each other?

Oliver sent him gardenias and peonies- he knew gardenias meant trust, symbolizing a love and respect for someone. They could also mean clarity, but clarity for what? That Oliver wanted to date him? To be friends with benefits? That he was about to be let down gently because the kiss was only good for him? 

The peony was a bit more delicate to deduce. They most often symbolized love, honor, happiness, wealth, romance, and beauty. Though, he would need to figure out the color of the flower to have a bit better idea as to what the coded message could indicate. White could mean remorse or bashfulness. 

So, in conclusion, Oliver was either falling for him as well and having just as much of a hard time admitting it out loud or regretting ever having met him on the Hogwarts Express their first year and was about to rip his heart right out of chest and leave him utterly devastated. 

Because it was him, probably the latter. That would be just his luck.

He needed a nap. Should have just let his family labor under the impression he was never going to have a romantic interest and never listened to Charlie about this whole ridiculous permadate idea. It was Oliver Wood for Merlin's sake, the man was routinely named the one of the sexiest professional players in the league by Witch Weekly. What had he been thinking? He knew going into this what those brown eyes were capable of making him feel, should have known he would end up here.

It was inevitable. 

"Earth to Percy," Penny snapped her fingers in his face. "Must have been one heck of an evening for you to space out like that. So, what juicy developments are you just dying to tell your two best mates about?"

He looked up from his cup of coffee and quirked an eyebrow at them. "Fine," he sighed. "But only because I don't want you needling me for details during the workday on Monday. You know how I told you that George asked Oliver to find a location for an after party for his surprise engagement celebration-"

Penny's eyes widened slightly, and her mouth opened and closed several times. She seemed at a loss for what to say in response to his story and he had to admit that it was a bit of a roller coaster of emotions. He struggled for the first time in his life to stick to the facts of the situation, feeling a need to justify his actions. Especially the portion where he rejected Oliver's advances, he had been an idiot (a.k.a. a coward who was terrified of commitment). Not that he was completely cured of his little affliction, but at least the idea of a real relationship didn't cause his blood to turn to ice and fear to render him incapable of functioning. He thought that might be a bit of progress. 

“You kissed him?”

"And he kissed you back?"

"You have a crush on a boy, like with real feelings and everything?"

"Did you ask him on a date?"

"Did he ask you on a date?"

"Do you think you might want to one day be the boyfriend of a famous Quidditch player?"

He nodded his head at the last question as both Penny and Allie's brows shot into their hairlines. "Though, I don't have high hopes that Oliver feels the same way if the peonies are white. Clarity and regret are not going to end well for me. Suppose I can't blame him though, the last two kisses we shared ended in disaster and I did reject him earlier in the evening yesterday. Probably tired of the back and forth and has decided that I am just too much of a mess for him to bother with."

"Honestly, Percy Ignatius Weasley! You daft fool!" Penny hit him upside the back of his head, ignoring his loud protests at her sudden affinity for violence when he was obviously under the weather. "It's no wonder you ended up getting an E in Divination on your OWLS and NEWTS, you are practically a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, gingerly rubbing the newest sore spot on his head and scooching further away from her in case she resorted to an unprovoked physical altercation again. 

Penny's lips immediately turned to a thin, straight line, tapping her fingers against the comforter as she regarded him with a sour expression. "I mean that you are so convinced all of your potential romantic partners are either not interested in you or the whole relationship is surely destined to fail before you ever give it a chance. Poor sweet little Oliver just sent you a meal and some flowers because he wanted to make sure you were taken care of, most people would be so over the moon giddy with excitement they would be insufferable to be around. You sit here talking about coded messages of doom and gloom, an impending heartbreak being inevitable when there is no evidence to support your claims. If anything, all context clues point to your hypothesis being disproved."

"We just don't want to see you self-sabotage yourself into ruining something great," Allie gave him a genuinely sympathetic look, taking his hand in her own. "Especially with someone who makes you so unbelievably happy and who you are interested in romantically."

Penny slipped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "About time you start knocking a few walls down and just let Oliver in."

"I like my walls thank you very much," he huffed out. "They have served me well over the years."

Penny glanced at Allie, the two of them having a silent conversation which involved an intricate series of eyebrow raises and eye movements before finally settling on some sort of conclusion. "Which do you like better? Your beloved walls or the sweet man who sent you flowers this morning because he was thinking about you?"

He had his answer, he knew he had his answer. He just wasn't quite ready on a gloomy Sunday morning to start the unpleasant and potentially emotionally draining task of embracing vulnerability and letting Oliver see the real Percy Weasley. 

Some hours later he found himself sitting at his kitchen table with a torrential downpour pelting against the bay window while lightning flashed in the distance; a fitting backdrop for the emotional turmoil going on inside his head at the moment.

Romance always had a funny way of sneaking upon someone without their notice. He, for one, was never quite ready when the prospect of getting a happily ever after reared its head, normally he would not have stuck around this long for his feelings to have grown in such magnitude. However, the sobering thought of messing things up with Oliver made his gut clench painfully. His heart would never withstand that blow.

So, here he sat as the clock on the wall gave a tick to signify another minute had passed without him cementing a firm plan for how to proceed from this point forward. His head in his hands and a cup of Earl Grey tea in front of him, charmed to stay hot because nothing was worse in his mind than a cup of cold tea. Staring down at the list he made all those weeks ago through the gaps in his fingers until the words blurred on the crumpled piece of parchment before him. 

1) Must be from the wizarding world

2) Successful

3) Intelligent

4) Friendly with my family

5) I can stand to be around them for more than a few minutes

6) Good looking

Oliver was a perfect fit, matching every qualification he set for the person he wanted to pretend to date. Begging the question of did he base the list subconsciously off the man? He didn't think so, but perhaps he had, considering his family discussed Oliver coming to Harry and Ginny's wedding and the fallout between the two of them right before he seriously considered Charlie's suggestion. It was possible the list was loosely based off of Oliver, and that was all he was willing to admit at the moment. 

Perfect on paper for a fantastic fake date, but what did he want in someone whom he was actually dating? Sighing as he picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, then added a few additional items in no particular order to the list in his neat handwriting. 

7) Always kind and respectful

8) Makes me feel special

9) Listens when I talk about work or other interests and makes a genuine effort to engage in conversation

10) Supports my career

11) Responsible

12) Sense of humor- preferably dry

13) Has rock hard abdominal muscles that I can see through his shirt and a firm little booty

Number 12 was a surprise to him, but he found he rather liked smiling all the time and having a reason to throw his head back and laugh. That definitely would not have been on the list a few months ago. 

Oliver was still a perfect fit. Why did that man have to go and be so bloody wonderful without even trying very hard? Why did he have to be reduced to a puddle when held in his strong arms and be unable to resist those soft lips? Life really wasn't fair, was it so much to ask for the universe to just let him be alone and miserable in peace? Had to throw in a sweet, hunky Quidditch obsessed himbo who was bloody perfect for him in every single way. 

He supposed that on a Sunday evening he had officially run out of excuses for why he couldn't at least try and make something more happen between him and Oliver. He could still try to reason his way out of this decision of course, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to convince himself that a life spent utterly alone was better than one he shared with someone he truly cared about.  

His aversion to any sort of romantic encounter where actual feelings were involved really wasn't his fault. Growing up the black sheep of the Weasley family was the reason he started to build the infernal things in the first place. Much better to pretend that nothing his siblings or parents said or did bothered him, than it was to constantly be told to "be a man" or "lighten up a little" and of course his mother's favorite, "wipe that sour look off your face, it might freeze like that and then you'll really have something to be upset about." 

Over the years he simply added to the fortress around his heart, effectively keeping every single person at arms length. 

He would now have to figure out how to deconstruct his fortress piece by tiny piece. Figuring he could start chipping away at his heavily reinforced walls with a phone call, just to thank Oliver for the flowers and food of course. Had nothing to do with the fact he was attempting to woo the man, while knowing next to nothing on the subject of romance.

He and Oliver agreed on 9 pm for their chat, having wavered between speaking with his newfound crush before or after Sunday dinner. Grateful he decided on after dinner, considering he just suffered through a truly horrendous Weasley family gathering, for once it was nothing he had done. Fleur and Bill announced she was pregnant, and his mother had truly been insufferable. The entire dinner she talked of nothing but grandchildren and how the Weasley clan was growing at an exponential rate. Lamenting on everyone in turn and how proud she was of them and their accomplishments, all except one. Two if you counted Charlie, but since he wasn't present this evening then he did not get to add this particular incident to their growing list of traumas experienced at the overbearing hand of Molly Weasley. 

According to his mother your success in life was measured by two things: when you got married and when you decided to give her grandchildren. In both units of measurements, the younger the better. If she had her way all of them would be married off directly after graduating Hogwarts and well on their way to being parents of a large brood by the time they were twenty five. So far, only Ginny was giving her the desired results within the specified timeline, minus the grandchildren as far as he knew. Hoping they waited at least a few years before adding children to the mix, the last thing he wanted was for his sister to feel pressured into giving up the career in professional Quidditch that she worked so hard to achieve. 

Suffice to say he was feeling fairly miserable at the moment, not even certain he was going to bring up the events of dinner to Oliver. He just wanted to hear his voice and thank him for the meal earlier today and the gorgeous bouquet of flowers sitting in front of him. 

It was now five till nine and he decided that five minutes wouldn't really make much of a difference. Listening to the phone ring on the other side as the anticipation grew, making his stomach flip and causing him to feel like he was back at Hogwarts during the summer between sixth and seventh year and waiting for the latest letter from Oliver. His heart soaring each time Bludger arrived with a note tied to its leg and a ruffle of his feathers while waiting patiently for a new note to deliver back to Scotland.  

When he heard Oliver's normal cheery greeting he responded with a gravely, "hello," in an octave well below his normal range. Hoping his voice sounded seductive and just a bit mysterious, he knew from hanging out with Ginny and Hermione that people loved a good baritone voice. The only thing missing from the picture was him lying in a risqué position on his bed with a rose between his teeth, but he thought that might be overdoing it just a bit for a phone call. 

"Are you coming down with something?" Oliver asked after a long pause, a hint of worry in his voice. Whether out of concern for him or his own health, he wasn't quite sure.  

"Just some spring allergies," he gave an embarrassed cough, trying to sound like he was just clearing his throat and not that he was fighting a case of pneumonia. Grateful that Oliver was not able to see his ears and neck turn a brilliant shade of crimson at his botched attempt at seduction. "Nothing to worry about."

Oliver hummed in response, making a sympathetic noise with his tongue. "I understand, it is about that time of the year when my grass allergy goes wild. Rather ironic considering my chosen profession. I will chug a pepper-up potion just to be safe though. Can't afford to be sick for the big match."

"It really is just a bit of pollen," he gave another small cough to ensure his voice would be as normal as possible. Couldn't risk Oliver thinking he was actually under the weather and therefore potentially putting the man he was trying to convince to date him for real at risk right before his first game as captain. The truth was far more humiliating though, if it came down to it he would feign a small cold. 

"That is probably what the people who got the black plague said as well," Oliver gave a small chuckle. "As they were hacking up a lung, they were simultaneously insisting it was just a bit of pollen and there was no need to worry. Look where that logic got them."

A loud clap of thunder rattled the windowpanes causing him to nearly jump out of his chair. "I would be more worried about Puddlemere making you play in these deplorable conditions. You are far more likely to get struck by lightning or develop pneumonia as a result of being soaked to the bone than you are to catch a disease which has essentially been eradicated since 1665. Besides, the pneumonic plague is highly contagious and deadly if not treated. I would already be critically ill and so would you, so I think you are in the clear."

"You always know such interesting facts about seemingly random topics," Oliver said in a voice which held no hint that he was being sarcastic, truly impressed he had facts ready to go at the drop of a hat. "Tell me more about my impending death from practicing too much in the pouring rain which nearly froze me to my bones this evening. What are the odds that I will get struck by lightning?"

"1 in 500,000 but given your propensity for being a human bludger target, I would put your odds at a much higher risk. Why don't you tell me more about your practice? You were all excited about unveiling the new plays you have been working on," he suggested, moving to the couch so he could make himself comfortable and bringing his flowers with him. Once Oliver got on the topic of Quidditch and strategy he could go on for hours. Not that he minded, the mere sound of that Scottish bur was already soothing him and everything in his world seemed to be righting itself once again. "Might be bit more upbeat than your topic of choice."

That was all the encouragement Oliver needed, launching into a rather detailed explanation of how the team received the plays he had been working on for the match and the specifics of practice which was held for the full length of time despite the pouring rain and lightning streaking across the sky. He held his tongue regarding the obvious safety concerns from the weather conditions the Puddlemere team was forced to endure. Knowing that when it came to Quidditch nothing would stop a match, excluding that one match sixth year but that was only because a monster was loose in the Hogwarts castle and petrifying students. 

Oliver had vehemently argued against the ban on Quidditch, claiming that short of the monster being some sort of winged bird or a dragon they were probably safest while 150 feet in the air and able to flee without the hindrance of their legs giving out from the exertion. Going so far as to suggest they move all classes outside and preferably in the air just in case a quick escape was needed. McGonagall had chased him from her office, slamming the door in his face and banning him from speaking to her for one week about anything other than his classwork.

His best mate only made it two days and lost house points as a result of just not being able to hold his tongue. 

After nearly an hour Oliver was in the middle of explaining a complicated series of loops his chasers would perform to confuse the other team's keeper as to not only who was holding the Quaffle but also which hoop they were aiming for when he suddenly trailed off mid-sentence and there was a long, awkward pause while he waited for Oliver to resume his recap. "I um- I talk too much about Quidditch don't I?" Oliver asked in a sheepish voice. 

"Well, yes," he admitted with a wince he was glad Oliver couldn't see. He honestly didn't mind that Oliver could speak on the topic for hours, but most would agree the man was utterly obsessed with the sport and all of the intricacies of Quidditch theory. "But-" 

"You only mildly tolerate the existence of Quidditch and dread having to come watch the sport live. Here I am droning on for the better part of an hour about tactics I have already spoken to you about. Honestly, just tell me to shut up. Won't hurt my feelings. I know I can be obsessive about the sport that most only view as a passing hobby and enough people have told me that I just don't know when to stop talking. Just keep going on and on and on about a subject until the other person's eyes glaze over and they have visions of strangling me with their bare hands just so I will finally quit talking-" 

"Oliver!" he exclaimed to cut off the rambling the other man tended to do when he was nervous. Clearing his throat, he gathered up his courage and simultaneously chipped away at a tiny Oliver shaped hole in the fortress surrounding his heart. "Oliver please-" he drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he continued in a wavering voice he was desperately trying to keep steady. "I really don't mind. I like it when you talk about your Quidditch practices and the new plays you have been working on, not many adults get excited about things they are interested in. Besides, you have a nice voice and always listen so patiently when I am talking about my work at the Ministry."

Oliver just chuckled, thankfully just skipping over the part where he admitted that he enjoyed the sound of his voice and focusing instead on Quidditch again. A safe topic which did not require either of them to confess any sort of feelings for each other. "Speaking of Quidditch- the team kind of gets together at a muggle pub near whatever stadium we are playing at. Gives us some anonymity after having cameras and reporters in our faces before and after the game. No one ever recognizes us or asks for our autograph, just seven people hanging out. It's a lot of fun and some of Ginny's team will come as well along with several of your siblings. Significant others are invited as well, in case you were wondering. Simone will bring her husband, Emilia will bring her fiance, Tamas and Liam will have me be the wingman to get some poor girl to talk to them, Avery will sit back and judge the two of them. Then there's me- all alone. Just me. I suppose I could hang out with Archie or maybe the twins and Angie will be there and will let me sit with them. Though, they will probably partner off at some point in the night as well and then it will just be Avery and Archie again. And me- just me- all alone-"

"That-" he interjected quickly when Oliver finally took a breath to stop the rambling yet again. Silently wondering why the man was suddenly so nervous when all they were talking about was a Quidditch after party. "That sure does sound like so much fun."

"It is-" Oliver trailed off again, giving a small cough after several minutes of silence. "I will just be there all by my little lonesome though- just me. All alone with no one to talk about Quidditch with other than my teammates. They get tired of me rambling on about Quidditch theory though, and fairly certain that my voice becomes more like nails on a chalkboard to them. Would be nice to have someone to talk to who enjoys my more endearing eccentricities-"

He took a sip of tea, smiling softly at the flowers sitting in front of him. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about it. I am sure someone would go with you," he hinted, hoping he was correct in assuming Oliver was attempting to ask him out of a date of sorts. "If they were invited of course."

"Say, here's a thought!" Oliver said suddenly, practically yelling into his ear and causing him to drop the phone. Leaning over the edge of the couch to retrieve his cell phone while rubbing at his poor busted eardrum. Oliver didn't immediately continue on with whatever idea had just popped into his head, instead they sat there in silence for a few minutes until he heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end and finally Oliver finished his thought at a reasonable decibel for polite conversation. "Um... feel free to say no, won't hurt my feelings in the least bit. Just thinking off the top of my head, having given this absolutely no prior thought until right this very moment. Since most of the other people are bringing someone, then I could bring someone as well and perhaps that someone could be you. I know that we have an agreement to be each other's dates to functions but maybe- just this once- you could come with me- not a date of necessity but another type of date- with me- even though we aren't technically dating each other in the traditional sense of the word. We did kiss though- which is something people do when they are dating- but we aren't- currently- at least not officially- only pretending for your family- you could still come to the pub with me though. If you wanted to, of course. Come with me to the pub... as my official date but not dating each other and with no expectations for the evening whatsoever. Your siblings will be there, so if you get tired of me rambling on about Quidditch you can just talk with them. Won't hurt my feelings-"

Despite the weak assurances, he knew that saying 'no' would indeed hurt the man's feelings. Besides, a date might be nice. Especially one where other people were involved, that might take some of the pressure off and would certainly help him relax and not be so in his head about the whole mortifying ordeal of trying to navigate this weird gray area they found themselves in. So far both of them were bumbling idiots and it wouldn't surprise him if took them several years to actually accomplish anything.

Remembering Penny's advice this morning to just allow Oliver to let him know when he was ready to take something to the next step. He took a deep breath and forged ahead. "Yeah-" he nodded his head as a giant grin broke across his face. Oliver hadn't had this much trouble getting a sentence out since his first pre-match pep talk as Gryffindor Quidditch captain, a series of high-pitched squeaks and random nonsensical words if he remembered correctly. "I would absolutely lo-" no, he should really try and play it just a bit cooler. Casual, he could be casual. "I mean- I could- I could go to the pub with you and your teammates as your date but not dating. Nothing else on my calendar for that day, so I suppose I could spare the time."

"Excellent!" Oliver sounded rather pleased with himself, probably believing he just successfully asked him out on a date without any hiccups. Oliver had always tended to believe he was slightly less awkward socially than he really was, it was endearing though. "I will call you tomorrow with the details- if that's ok of course."

He had to suppress the urge to giggle, the fact that Oliver seemed just as nervous as he was made him feel less like a hopeless idiot who was destined to never have an actual boyfriend. Penny had assured him the beginning of relationships were always a bit awkward and it was normal to feel a bit like a fish out of water. Oliver's odd behavior simply made it seem more likely he wasn't just broken beyond repair. The two of them could be hopeless, bumbling idiots together. "Sounds good. Does 9pm work for you?"

"Works for me," Oliver agreed, sounding much more relaxed and like his normal self again. "Talk to you then. Night Perce."

"Goodnight Oliver," he threw his head back against the arm of the sofa and kicked his legs in the air in some sort of weird victory movement his didn't even know his body was capable of. Not bothering to be embarrassed about his little celebration because Oliver couldn't see him anyways. One of the perks of not having a roommate, despite the crazy London prices for flats, was that he could do weird things in the comfort of his own company without anyone to judge him. 

Pining away after Oliver like some crazed Quidditch groupie was included in that scenario.  

He had what he was fairly certain was an official date with Oliver Wood. A date, a real date. Practically preening with glee as he made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the night. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it and let out a loud sigh of relief. The past few days had been, frankly, a roller coaster of emotions and one that he was grateful would finally be slowing down a bit.

Turning to his reflection in the mirror, he had to bite down a giggle when he saw his appearance. He looked- utterly elated. Eyes were shining brightly with crinkles in the corners from smiling and there was a faint blush to his cheeks, he looked the very definition of smitten. Supposing that perhaps he was. 

Who could blame him though? It was Oliver after all, anyone who was lucky enough to bag themselves a date with a famous Quidditch player deserved to be just a tad bit smitten. Not to mention the man was incredibly sweet and thoughtful, sending him flowers and lunch today just because. Realizing with horror that he never properly thanked Oliver for his kindness, he would have to make sure to squeeze that in tomorrow when they talked on the phone again. 

Slipping on a Quality Quidditch Supplies shirt he stole from a certain Quidditch player he practically skipped into bed, flopping down on the mattress and burrowing beneath the warm covers with a contented smile. Wondering what Oliver was doing at the moment. Laying on his own bed and staring up at the ceiling with a goofy grin on his face? Maybe pacing around his own flat while worrying that he made a mistake and was about to call him back and tell him that he changed his mind and would simply go to the party alone? No- no, he would not think like that. Oliver asked him to go with him because he wanted him there, wanted him at the match as well to cheer him on as well. 

Neither of them mentioned the kiss this evening. Choosing not to focus on the loose ends and doubts creeping in on him, instead he let his imagination wonder as to what the match would be like on Saturday when he accompanied Oliver as an actual date and not as part of some agreement they had with each other. 

Any serious discussions about newly rekindled friendships, budding relationships, and the future, could wait until another day when they were both ready. Tonight, he would focus on a pair of warm brown eyes and the look on Penny's face when he told her the big news tomorrow over lunch. She was going to be so pleased with his progress. 

Chapter Text

"Why don’t you stay home? After the dark. Why don’t you hold on, close to my heart? There’s a loving house, right by the street and all of the warm lights, they point back to me. I believe I can treat you right, sing a song until the morning shines. Down we’ll go hide under the oaks, give you shelter through the night." All Faces- The Oaks

It was peculiar, to be getting ready for an actual date with Oliver. Finding it odd that his nerves were the kind which set his body humming with anticipation rather than filling him with the usual dread and making him want to find any plausible excuse for why he simply couldn't make the date. He hadn't even asked Penny to call him after an hour with a code phrase so he could have an easy way out if the night wasn't going well. Seeing as he didn't foresee suffering through a terrible date being an issue with Oliver.

The two of them talked every single night this week and never seemed to run out of things to say. Other than the one painfully awkward moment on Sunday neither of them seemed to experience another bout of crippling nerves and the conversation returned to the normal ease they always enjoyed when talking to each other. He remembered the plan he made last Saturday night and found he learned quite a bit about the man he was hoping to date that he previously had been unaware of. The most interesting was he was now intimately familiar with Oliver's desire to buy several acres in Scotland and own a multitude of muggle farm animals including goats, sheep, chickens, and a pond full of ducks. While he wasn't a big fan of the outdoors in general, he thought he might not mind a bit of a slower pace of life than what was offered in the heart of London, providing he could have an in-home library and plenty of cozy corners to curl up with a good book and cup of tea of course. 

"Hold still Percy," Angelina chided him, as she sucked on her lower lip before nodding her head and diving back into the alterations she deemed immediately necessary. Apparently he looked ridiculous in the oversized Puddlemere jersey Oliver let him borrow. Soon to be his, but he hadn't yet informed his date that he was officially stealing this as well for his growing collection of Quidditch themed clothing. It was soft, which was the only reason he wanted to keep it and there was a small possibility it too smelled faintly of leather with an earthy undertone. 

He just sighed in response, holding his arms out on either side of him and trying not to fidget as Angelina continued her work. Supposedly when she was done he was going to take Oliver's breath away, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. A small nod of acknowledgment and a smile would suffice him just fine. "You guys really don't have to accompany me to the game," he tried again, knowing his protests were an exercise in futility. "I can find the stadium just fine." 

"The press are vultures," George commented from where he was sprawled out on the couch, eyeing the books strewn haphazardly around the living room. Picking up a hefty book on broomstick design off the coffee table and beginning to flip through it with a raised eyebrow. 

"I can handle myself," he huffed, flexing his fingers to keep the blood flow going and prevent numbness from setting in. Glancing around the flat he realized he should have known George and Angelina would show up this morning despite his assurances their presence was not needed. He should have gone with the excuse of his flat being a disaster and not suitable for guests at the moment, though he doubted if they would have cared about that either. All of his hard work organizing his books that one evening with Oliver was going to come in very handy when he began his tidying-up efforts. 

He hadn't cleaned up yet from his phone calls with Oliver earlier in the week when he finally settled on a topic for his independent project. It was a close call but in the end the cushioning charm won, he had wanted to go with something a bit more advanced which utilized intricate and potentially unstable magical principles. Oliver made a compelling argument for collaboration amongst the other departments which would segue nicely into a few more of his ideas which were a bit too labor intensive for a project he only had a month or so to fully research and present a compelling design. Not to mention he could produce a working prototype along with data collected from testing on Oliver and some of his teammates, which would surely impress the committee he would present his project before. 

"No one said you couldn't," Angelina twirled her finger to get him to do a 180 degree turn so she could work on the back. "However, you have also never been the boyfriend of a rather famous, but notoriously private, Quidditch player either. Trust me, the press are going to want to be all over you the moment you step foot into that stadium. Hounding you for exclusive interviews and throwing questions at you right and left. Now please, hold still!"

He pursed his lips, turning his head over his shoulder and sent a dirty glare to the top of the witch’s head. "I already had a plan in place for such an occurrence. Thought the press might be interested to hear my impressive repertoire of random broomstick facts and odd statistics on Quidditch related accidents as well as some tips for improvement in safety measures for the players. Particularly when it comes to their blatant disregard for proper padding when asking people to come in close proximity to flying balls which want to knock you out."

“I thought you didn’t like Quidditch,” George commented, still flipping nosily through the books and stacks of parchment piled atop his coffee table. 

"I'm not obsessed with Quidditch," he replied as Angelina finished the final touches on the alterations with a satisfied grin. "I merely enjoy it as a recreational pastime. There is a difference."

George snorted at that, grinning up at him with a truly wicked look. "I think you meant to say that you enjoy dear little Ollie as a recreational pastime. Quidditch is just part of that particularly muscular package."

"George!" Angelina admonished as she magicked a full-length mirror so he could admire her handiwork, he had to admit that her adjustments showed off his long and lean figure quite nicely. "Leave poor Percy alone."

"What?" George snickered, snapping the book closed and dropping it on the table. "It's not my fault that he and Oliver practically undress each other with their eyes whenever they are in the same room. Actually, come to think of it... you never wanted to practice with us when we were kids or during the summers between terms at Hogwarts, but you would sit for hours on the weekends and throw Quaffles for Oliver and stay up late to review his plays for a second check. Furthermore, you only ever came to the Gryffindor matches and would always congratulate Oliver first before your own adoring siblings. First one down to the pitch when Oliver was hurt and would sit by his bedside in the infirmary and tend to him. Fussing over the placement of his pillows and if he was comfortable enough. Now why is that?"

At least Angelina had the decency to look sympathetic about the topic of conversation, George's reflection was still grinning triumphantly at him with his feet propped up. "He was my best mate," was all he was going to say on the matter, his blasted complexion giving away his embarrassment as the tips of his ears burned red. 

"Don't know how I managed to miss just how smitten you were with him back at Hogwarts. When we bet on whether you two were doing it, that was mainly just because of how much you both bickered with each other like an old married couple. More of a friends with benefits situation, an agreement of convenience considering you didn't have any other roommates. Never thought there would be any actual feelings or emotions behind it," George murmured in surprise, rubbing his chin with one hand. "Should have realized the two of you were involved with each other again with how weird you acted when Harry asked if it was ok that Oliver was invited to his wedding. That and you and Oliver's super-secret date to the Ministry function."

"Harry figured it out first by the way," Angelina gave him a soft smile, flicking her wand to vanish the mirror. "He was very adamant that we not get involved in Oliver's personal business. The kid is so protective of his former Quidditch captain, positively vicious to anyone he thinks is just using Oliver for the money or to get their five minutes of fame by pretending to be interested. It's kind of cute to watch him just lay into people while Ollie attempts to hold him back."

He knew all about Harry's fierce protectiveness, having been on the receiving end of a warning for bodily harm if he ever did anything to hurt Oliver whether intentional or not. "Yeah, real cute."

"Don't be such a sourpuss," George chuckled, swatting at Angelina who was pulling on his arm to try and get him to stand up so they could leave for the match. "Fred and I paid Oliver a little visit just in time for a homecooked dinner one evening, so it is only fair that you got one as well. Besides, it is just Harry. Now, if it were Ginny, I might understand why you look so miserable at the moment. As she is a bit unhinged and I would not want her after me."

"Get up George!" Angelina exploded, standing in front of her fiance with her hands on her hips and glaring down at him. "If you continue to laze about, we are not going to have time to see the player profiles and I want to read what they wrote about Oliver. Since he is the new captain, they will do a full re-cap of his career." 

George was not a stupid man, quickly sliding his legs off the edge of the couch and standing up with his hands down by his side, giving Angelina his rapt attention. "Awaiting further instructions, me lady."  

He gave a huff of a laughter, watching as Angelina struggled not to soften at her fiancé's antics. Finally shaking her head, eyes rolling towards the ceiling as she let out a loud sigh before making her way over to the fireplace. "Falmouth Falcon's stadium," she said in a clear voice, throwing down the powder and disappeared in a puff of smoke and flames. 

George just shrugged his shoulders with a 'what are you going to do' roll of his eyes, and the two of them followed Angelina's lead. Neither wanting to be the recipient of one of her infamous lectures which usually included a fair amount of yelling and finger pointing. He'd heard George joke on more than one occasion that Angie took a page out of the Oliver Wood guidebook for team management and then applied the principles to other areas of her life. 

Anyone who valued their life was careful to never mention this fact to Angelina.  

Technically the floo network was not hooked up to the stadium proper, but rather to the small wizarding village which was about a ten-minute walk away. As this was a playoff game to see who would advance to the semi-finals a neutral stadium was chosen to further ensure fairness from the referees and to not give either Puddlemere or the Harpies the home team advantage. 

Stumbling out of the fireplace he dusted the black soot off his jersey, perching his glasses back on his face. His first order of business if he was selected for Minister of Transportation would be to find a way to make that particular form of travel more pleasant. 

"Ready Percy?" Angelina asked, slipping her arm around his and giving him an encouraging smile. 

He smiled, taking a deep breath as they headed towards the stadium with George on his other arm. "Yeah," he said in a voice which betrayed his brewing nerves, while he would never admit it out loud, he was grateful that Angelina and George were here with him. Angelina had always been a warm and comforting presence while George was the funnier of the twins in his opinion and more likely to be understanding of his nerves regarding being in such a public setting. "Ready as I will ever be."

"That's the spirit!" George said with a laugh. "You always were such an eternal optimist."

The village was not unlike other wizarding communities which resided near a Quidditch stadium, mainly housing players and their families who didn't want to commute every day and entertaining guests who came to see the match. Every store window they passed had switched over to display Puddlemere United and Holyhead Harpies paraphernalia, winding down the wide cobblestone street which ran through the middle of the village he marveled at the sheer amount of people who came to support a Quidditch match. 

Today the crowded streets resembled an outdoor festival of sorts, with dozens of different vendors lining the path to the stadium. Music played over speakers and strings of lights were hung from the thatched roofs overhead, while excited children ran between groups of people with their weary parents chasing after them with exasperated looks. They stopped to grab a butterbeer to go along with some warm pastries, while waiting for their food he noticed the booth next to them was selling little bobblehead figurines of the Puddlemere United players. 

"Wow!" a young boy nudged past him to stare at the display with bright eyes, pulling his mother behind him who gave an apologetic look at her son's lack of saying 'excuse me' in his rush to view the display. Doing a double take as her gaze registered his signature red hair and pale, freckled skin. Recognition set in when she saw the jersey with Oliver's number that he was proudly wearing, eyes widening as she opened her mouth to say something. "Mum look! It's Wood, the new captain! Can I get one? Please?" her son once again pulled her attention; thankfully away from him without anything being said about him resembling the man from the picture on the front page of the Prophet. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to be staring at him and potentially be the recipient of some less than approving remarks. 

He was still the Weasley who was nearly brought before the Wizengamot and tried for war crimes, that blemish would never fully go away. 

The woman just let out a puff of air asking the vendor how much for the figurine before handing over three galleons, telling the boy this was the only thing they were getting today other than some food and drinks for the match. The little boy just nodded his head distractedly, rattling off startlingly accurate statistics about Oliver's averages for number of goals blocked per game being the highest in the league this year to no one in particular. 

When the boy pulled Oliver's comically oversized head down and let it go with a resounding boing, chattering to his mum as they walked away about how wicked it would be if he got to meet Wood in person and get his autograph, he had to bite back a laugh. While he knew Oliver was famous, it never ceased to amaze him how awestruck people were when they thought of meeting him in person. He would always just be Oliver to him, the goofy boy who befriended him first year and made him suffer through seven years of endless chatter about Quidditch theory and the likelihood there would be mashed potatoes at dinner. 

Angelina appeared at his side and slid her arm through his grasp, tugging him close while smiling comfortingly. "They did a fairly decent job on Oliver's figurine. Really captured that big head of his. Probably full of new plays to torture his poor teammates with at ungodly hours of the morning."

He couldn't help but laugh, while he held quite a bit of trepidation at the start of his morning he had to admit this was nice. It had been a while since he hung out with Angelina and the last time he and George were not surrounded by the rest of their large family had been years before the war. The day was warm for late April and he was bordering on content as the sunlight streamed down from a break in the clouds hanging overhead. "I would be just a bit creeped out knowing that random people had a miniature version of myself just sitting in their house or on their desk at work."

George handed him a butterbeer with a snort, tilting his head back with a loud laugh which drew the attention of several people standing nearby. "Imagine how I feel. Angie here is probably the main centerpiece on half of the UK's wizarding population's mantels. I mean look at her," George's eyes roamed appreciatively over his fiance whose cheeks bloomed pink. "Now her bobblehead doesn't do her ethereal presence the justice it truly deserves but it is a fairly accurate representation of the beauty and grace that is my future wife."

"George please," Angelina half-heartedly protested the affections, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear with a small smile. "Your brother doesn't want to hear you gush over me and how utterly gorgeous I am."

His brother and his fiance bickered with each other as they slowly meandered up to the stadium, the game was still over two hours away from starting so they lingered at various booths pointing out different items and laughing about nothing in particular. They all bought omnoculars and he got himself a Puddlemere United flag to wave at the game, a pin for his briefcase at work, along with a cheesy foam finger that George talked him into. His younger brother linked their elbows together and proceeded to skip down the street, dragging him along behind him with their matching foam fingers and singing the Puddlemere United anthem. 

Beat back those Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here.
There's no team looks as fine flying in their Quidditch gear.

Angelina was staying a few steps back and howling with laughter, her head tipped towards the sky and wiping at the tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. As for himself, his smile stretched from ear to ear and he felt as if he had been hit with a Cheering Charm from several wands at once.

The sensation of feeling relaxed and joyful around any of his family members was not one he was accustomed to experiencing, at least not in the recent couple of years. Perhaps when he was a child, maybe back then he was able to let go a bit when surrounded by his siblings or parents, but it was never in the way they wished him to interact. He was always too serious, too stuck in his own head, too bookish, just too Percy for their liking. Though they tried to mold his personality into one which resembled that of a 'normal' Weasley, he remained infuriatingly un-moldable. Too strict and stern to join in on the merriment and over the years the invitations to hang out with his siblings stopped. 

He hid his disappointment and pain behind his academic studies, throwing himself into his books and learning everything he could in an attempt to win his family's approval. Unable to say anything he kept his lips tightly closed, the excruciating pain of being isolated and unloved was held close to his heart just as he felt he deserved. Folded in on himself to make his presence in the Burrow and the world in general as small as possible, never taking up what he viewed as too much space and blending into the background until he became like a ghost in his own life. Easily forgotten and not really wanted in the first place.  

This small moment of bonding with his younger brother was progress in the right direction. Ever since the war ended it felt as if when it came to his family everything was one small nudge forward and then twenty steps back. The possibilities to inch towards true reconciliation were few and far between. After meeting roadblock after roadblock for several years, nearly giving up any inkling of hope, he felt as if he had finally gotten his chance at a breakthrough. 

He didn't care if people were looking at them strangely, while he wasn't singing nearly as loudly or off-tune as George, he was being an active participant in the merriment.

Accepting the invitation extended to him was a nudge in the right direction. 

Passing through the last of the massive concrete arches leading into the stadium the steep ramp evened out and they came to a wide, open walkway which spanned the entire length of the oval pitch with three goalposts of varying heights on either end. Unlike the Quidditch World Cup, this pitch had a staggering number of what he assumed were corporate and private boxes lining either side of the pitch above where they stood. Beneath them were the regular seats which were already full of chanting fans for both teams, he was glad they weren't going to be sitting in one of those because he could only imagine how sore his neck would be if he had to look up for several hours. 

"Let's go find Harry," Angelina suggested, speaking loudly to be heard over the dull roar of the fans. "He said he would be waiting by the lifts. We can go view the player profiles then head up to our seats."

George pointed towards the very top row of private boxes. "We will be all the way up there," he craned his head back to try and get a good view at the top row of boxes where his brother was pointing, which seemed to be nearly level with the hoops. "Each captain gets a box for family and there are a few for prominent wizarding officials and visiting dignitaries."

"Sometimes the players and team managers have to invite a bunch of friends and family to fill seats during the regular season, so they won't be empty," Angelina whispered to him with a wink. "It's all very political, but you already know how to navigate all of that pomp and circumstance."

He nodded his head, remembering how Oliver seemed to know nearly all of the prominent Ministry officials who either were season ticket holders, major donors, or held positions of power on the International Quidditch Counsel. Supposing he was offered the position of head of his department he figured the team he would support to schmooze with the higher ups would be Puddlemere, might as well considering he was never going to get away from Quidditch at this point. That sport was like a fungus, always creeping in on him and coming back stronger than ever despite his valiant efforts to rid himself of it. 

Fiddling with the VIP badge hanging around his neck, he glanced around at the packed stadium. Supposing that the first playoff game for the semi-finals would draw a large crowd he doubted if such measures had been necessary today. "Starting to realize the world of professional Quidditch is a bit more nuanced than I previously expected."

"Nuanced is certainly one word for it," Angelina skillfully led them through the crowd of people towards where he assumed the lifts and Harry were located. The inside of the Falmouth Falcon stadium smelled overwhelmingly of broomstick polish and leather, normally he would not have found those two smells pleasant to his senses however after being around Oliver he was growing rather fond of leather. 

Inhaling deeply, he fully embraced the scents mingling with the grass and dirt from the pitch, they were likely ones he would hopefully be well acquainted with if things turned out like he hoped they would between him and Oliver. 

Harry was leaned against the wall next to the lifts, seeing them approach he said something waving one hand above his head at them. Whatever was said was lost in the dull roar as throngs of people pushed past them to get to wherever they were going. As they drew closer to each other, Harry's voice was a little clearer and louder when he spoke again. "Merlin, am I glad to see all of you! Not that I don't love my future mother-in-law but after nearly an hour of hearing her go on and on about grandchildren I needed an escape."

Angelina huffed a laugh, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards as she put a comforting arm around Harry's thin shoulders, shaking him a bit in a loving fashion. "Glad we could be of assistance. Now, I want to go read about Oliver's lucrative career."

"Puddlemere and the Harpies went in a bit of a different direction this game," Harry said, blinking in apparent confusion as three heads swiveled to stare at him in surprise, their mouths gaping open. "Not a bad direction," the younger man quickly amended. "His career is of course highlighted but they included a bit about the backgrounds of each player. There are some rather adorable pictures of a tiny gap-toothed Oliver standing amongst some sheep with the Scottish hills in the distance. Had no idea his grandparents on his mum's side owned a business supplying wool for companies who made sweaters."

"Are there pictures from when he won the local village junior sheep shearing competition?" he asked, shaking his head in amusement at the shocked expressions he received in return.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his face scrunching up as he seemed to be mentally running through the pictures he remembered seeing. "No-"

"Oliver can shear a sheep?" George asked, his head pivoting between the two of them in utter bewilderment. "I just thought he grew up on a farm where the animals were more like pets. He was always prattling on about how much he missed his pet cow and how unfair it was that McGonagall told him he was under no circumstances allowed to keep it on the grounds of Hogwarts. She didn't care if Hagrid had agreed to babysit it for him during classes."

"That was a real blow to him. Sent McGonagall a letter before his first year and everything, filled with pictures of his cow and a list of all the necessary accommodations, along with a letter of testament to its good behavior he nagged his grandfather into writing for him. Almost didn't come to Hogwarts in protest. Thankfully his parents stepped in and told him that he wasn't throwing away his education because he was having a tantrum over some cow," he replied with a grin, having heard all about the saga of Buttercup the cow in-between talk of Quidditch on their first train ride to Hogwarts. "And yes, Oliver can shear a sheep. His mum was very proud of his accomplishments. When I would go visit during the summer, she would always point out the trophies and medals displayed on the fireplace mantel and showed me entire photo albums full of Oliver standing with his arms full of sheep wool."

"How would he have gotten Buttercup to school anyways?" Harry mused, still rubbing his neck in confusion as he tried to picture a young Oliver shearing sheep and performing other manual tasks which had nothing to do with Quidditch. 

Angelina just snorted as they joined the long line of people who were waiting for their turn to view the profiles. "This is Oliver we are talking about. Tell that man he can't do something, and he will do it just to spite you. I am sure his eleven-year-old brain had some convoluted plan to sneak that bloody cow onto the Hogwarts Express and hide it from McGonagall and his parents. Never occurs to him to think about should he be doing something."

"Sounds like somebody else we know," George gave Harry a pointed look, whose face quickly flushed as he reached up to swipe his glasses off of his face, busying himself with cleaning them. Otherwise Harry shrugged off his own blatant disregard for thinking things through at times. He didn't know why he hadn't seen how similar Harry and Oliver were in terms of certain personality quirks until recently. A lot of emphasis was put on the execution of their poorly thought out plan and the why behind their decisions was more of an afterthought if anything, those two were about as Gryffindor as they came in terms of impulsiveness. 

He supposed that was one of the reasons why the two of them got along so well now that they were adults. Just similar enough to have a good bit in common yet just enough differences to keep them from wanting to rip each other's throats out. 

The line was thankfully moving quickly and soon they were close enough that he could see the floor to ceiling posters lining either side of the corridor with pictures of the players from both teams. He was rather enjoying the fact that both teams included personal pictures of the players, it gave the players a sense of being relatable. No longer just mysterious figures in the sky who signed autographs for adoring fans. They were real people who just happened to be obscenely wealthy.

Looking down the rows he saw witches and wizards with their families at various functions, hanging out with friends, on vacation, and just enjoying life outside of Quidditch. 

The sport couldn’t dominate every single player's entire personality, unless they were Oliver, but even he had calmed down a bit over the years. No longer bordering on an unhealthy soul consuming obsession since he didn't have his overbearing father breathing down his neck. Pushing him to take something he was simply passionate about and turn it into the only thing which mattered. Now it seemed that Quidditch was still important, but no longer to the detriment of everything else in his life. A much healthier balance and one he was eternally thankful for. He didn't think they would have had much in common if both of them allowed work to consume every spare moment. Something he was working on as well, since it wouldn't be fair to Oliver if he never made time for the man.  

"Surprised there aren't reporters crawling around everywhere," George stated as they slowly made their way down the corridor, pausing at various posters and giggling over some of the photos which were chosen to be displayed.

"They are finishing up interviews with the players at the moment," Harry supplied, standing back a bit and maneuvering them through the thinning crowd as he had already seen the display. "Ginny and I got here at five this morning and Oliver showed me his schedule. His interviews started at six and lasted until ten this morning. Leaving only an hour for him to get ready for the match at eleven."

Angelina turned to look at George, the two of them trying to bite back giggles as they both gasped for air in between their snorts. "I- I am sure Ollie is just thrilled about not being able to hunch over his little figurines and mutter to himself for hours on end."

George elbowed Angelina's side, winking at her. "Don't forget his pre-match ritual of pacing the length of the pitch with us trailing along behind him like little lost puppies while he gave us an in-depth assessment of the firmness of the grass for kick-off. Never mind that we were mainly going to be in the air and the condition of the pitch was of no concern to us."

"That one-" Angelina wheezed out, holding her stomach with both arms as she doubled over. "That one time he licked his finger and held it in the air to tell us the wind was coming from the north which meant Harry needed to avoid facing the castle so he wouldn't tear up from a face full of cold air and miss the snitch."

George grinned, looking very much a Weasley as a chaotic glint alighted in his eyes. "Turns out our esteemed former captain is something of a soothsayer. I remember that game and as soon as I turned towards the castle a gale of bitter cold wind went right into my eyes. Big tears streamed down my face, not that I would ever admit it to Oliver. Though, based on the fact he offered me a handkerchief after the match with a cheeky little grin I think he knew. Brilliant arsehole."

"He expressed his gratitude to the press for causing him to be woefully unprepared for his normal obsessive compulsive tendencies with a stream of Gaelic in between bites of the granola bar I forced him to eat," Harry shook his head fondly at the memory, apparently some things never changed. At Hogwarts Oliver was always notorious for forcing large amounts of food down his teammates' throats while touching nothing himself. "And I know he only knows the bad words so there is no telling what he said."

"You can thank his uncles for that," he chuckled, blushing slightly as three heads swiveled to stare at him with matching grins. "They thought it would be funny to teach their only nephew at the time as sort of a party trick. Oliver repaid the favor by teaching his numerous cousins all of the funny words he learned which made the adults giggle and gasp at him. His mum was not impressed, but no amount of time-outs were going to stop the boy." 

The four of them moved slowly down the row of player profiles. The three people who were Oliver's former teammates fervently discussing what they thought Oliver's strategy for the upcoming match might be while he kept his mouth firmly shut. Of course, Oliver had not told him everything he had planned for the match. A good strategist would never reveal every card he held, best to leave something as a surprise twist.  

"Ah, our lovely sister. The red headed little gremlin who is as mean as a Hungarian Horntail," George glanced over his shoulder at him, grinning before turning and staring at the information in front of them. None of it was new of course. 

Standing in front of Ginny's profile he was surprised to see that he was featured in several of the family photos, and he looked- miserable. Utterly and completely miserable in every single one of them. The photo from their vacation in Egypt was taken right after Fred and George tried to lock him in a pyramid, despite his crippling fear of tight spaces and the newfound one of being next to a deceased person. He couldn't recall the specific conversation leading up to the one from their last Christmas together right before Ron's first year at Hogwarts, but he was certain his siblings had been teasing him about one thing or another and his parents were telling him to lighten up and quit ruining the picture. The third and final photo was from Ginny's first game with the Holyhead Harpies and there had been a huge row with his other family members right before the match and Fred had hissed at him that he wished he had been the one who was injured in the battle or better yet had been amongst the fallen. 

He knew Fred's anger and frustration needed to be directed somewhere, and therefore he lashed out at his favorite target. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, while he never received a direct apology for the hurtful words, Fred had asked him what sort of reports he was working on the next time they saw each other. Knowing that Fred couldn't care less what he was doing at the Ministry he recognized the attempt to smooth over the outburst. While better than nothing he supposed, a verbal apology would have been appreciated considering that he spent months after the battle groveling at his family's feet for their forgiveness. Forgiveness which was given begrudgingly and not without strings attached. 

“Percy, is everything alright?” Angelina asked quietly, gently taking his elbow and leading him away from the poster and towards a quieter area of the corridor.

He pressed his lips together, staring resolutely at the lines of mortar holding the concrete blocks making up the hallways together, willing the tears welling in his eyes to not fall. In his peripheral, he saw Angelina gently covering his hand with her own. “I…I should have been more present. With my family,” he admitted, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. "Shouldn't have let pride stand in the way and waited so long to start trying to make my amends."

Angelina sucked in a breath, squeezing his hand tightly. "I know they were happy you did come back. They all really missed you, even if they don't always say it. If there is one thing I have learned it is that you Weasleys are not exactly the type to sit down and talk about anything, but you do love each other. Deeply and fiercely."

She had no idea how true that was. He squeezed her hand back, trying to let her know how grateful and appreciative he was of her considering he didn't think he could say much of anything at the moment. 

"Come on," Angelina gently touched his arm, as though she were concerned he was unusually fragile and might shatter into a million pieces with any additional pressure. He supposed she might not be far off in her assessment. "Let's go see Oliver's poster. I want to see what one of my best mates looked like before he was the annoying boy who woke me up at five in the morning to practice Quidditch."

He chuckled as Angelina rubbed her other hand between his shoulder blades in a soothing rhythm. "He was absolutely adorable. No idea what happened in the years that followed."

The two of them made their way over to Oliver's poster, Harry was standing nearby and gave him a confused look but thankfully didn't say anything about his wretched state. He could only imagine he looked as if he had been recently crying and wasn't keen on this becoming a topic of conversation while he swiped at his tear-streaked cheeks and did something about his red rimmed eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was be caught off guard by a member of the press, his current look was not one he cared to see plastered on the front page of the Prophet. 

While he used the sleeve of his robe to dab his eyes he tried to focus on the poster in front of him. When Puddlemere said they were going to cover his entire career, they meant it. Going all the way back to his time at Hogwarts from when he made the team his second year, co-captain fourth year, captain his fifth year, and finally ending with his offer to join the Puddlemere United reserve team at the end of his seventh year. He found his own face grinning back at him from the numerous picture during this time period. Random moments from their time at Hogwarts, trips to Hogsmeade, summers spent visiting each other, and that one year after Hogwarts. In every single photo he was beaming, eyes shining brightly and cheeks just slightly flushed. A sharp contrast to the pictures on Ginny's poster where one would have thought he had been kidnapped by the family of redheads and forced to pose with them. 

He had to agree with George, he didn't know how he could have possibly missed just how enamored he had been with Oliver at Hogwarts. The evidence was staring him right in the face. 

"They players never put a relationship status if they aren't engaged or married," Harry said from beside him, giving him a concerned look as if that was the reason he had been upset. "Otherwise, certain players would have a different name for their current significant other every single match."

"I figured. Boyfriends come and go," he shrugged, a small portion of him felt guilty for once again lying to his family and the wizarding world about the actual status of his relationship with Oliver. Staring at a particular picture of himself and Oliver having a study session down by the Black Lake, laying on their stomachs next to each other and giggling about something one of them said, the textbooks in front of them long forgotten. He sighed heavily to himself. They had resumed their friendship so easily; would he be mucking it all up by mentioning he wanted more from the man? More importantly would he be mucking it all up by staying stubbornly quiet in his desire to be more than just friends?

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Harry looked at him expectantly out of the corner of his eye. He huffed, nodding his head as he brushed his hair out of his face. Closing his eyes and waited for whatever it was Harry wanted to know. "Why didn't you and Oliver date during your time at Hogwarts?"

Not that bad actually. Of all the questions Harry could have posed to him, this one was quite tame. Opening his eyes, he found Harry pointing to a particular picture, fifth year and they had both just achieved what they had been working towards. He was prefect and Oliver had been promoted to captain, he could have blamed the adoring look in his eyes on his elation, but he knew better than that. For one, he was looking at Oliver and not at his prefect pin. "Different time," he started to explain. "We would have been the only two openly gay people at school and I suppose that was a label neither of us were willing to carry at the time. The Ministry wasn't very tolerant, and Merlin knows the world of professional Quidditch would have been completely closed to Oliver if the managers had any inkling of such a thing."

Harry nodded his head, chewing on his cheek as he mulled it over. "I remember Flint used to call him Captain Poof along with other ugly taunts in the hallways, he would also make other lude references to his supposed sexuality. Fred and George would get really mad about it, but Oliver just always told them not to engage in the behavior. Said the Slytherins were just trying to get them riled up and take their focus away from the match. Wish I would have punched the troll in the face or sent a few hexes his way. When Oliver never had a girlfriend, I guess I just assumed he was too focused on Quidditch to care about relationships or romance. I always felt horrible that I never realized the taunts hit home a little more deeply than I thought at the time." 

"You were thirteen, don't be so hard on yourself."

Harry just shrugged. "Still, I imagine it must have been extremely difficult for you both."

"We had very different ways of dealing with it all I suppose," he gave a humorless laugh. Angelina was correct in her assessment of Weasleys never talking about anything. For seven years he shared a dorm with Oliver and assumed he was utterly alone in how he felt regarding his inability to form a proper crush on his female classmates. It wasn't until that last night of seventh year he realized there was someone else who understood, he was too scared to fully admit it to himself though. Yet another thing he simply couldn't talk about. 

He hid behind a fake relationship with Penny while Oliver just avoided the topic all together, throwing himself into Quidditch. Not much had changed since then- instead of just telling his family the truth he hid behind a fake relationship with Oliver. Now- well, now he was avoiding having to confront his feelings regarding Oliver. At least he had several hours to think of what exactly he was going to say when he saw those warm brown eyes again. A simple 'hello' didn't seem appropriate enough for how special Oliver was to him. No, it needed to be perfect. 

"I think you're both very brave for coming out," Harry murmured, his eyes lighting on a picture of a young Oliver standing with his parents on the edge of a cliff. "Especially when your families aren't exactly making it easy on you. I met his mum and dad at the Quidditch World Cup you know. They seemed really sweet. He dragged me over to meet them and told me about making the reserve team for Puddlemere. Had I known how they would treat him a few years later, I would have had a few choice words."

"His mum was always a very sweet person. His dad though-" he muttered, not feeling very brave at the moment. Harry turned abruptly to stare at him with dilated pupils. Remembering how the Dursleys treated Harry he quickly continued on, while an overbearing arsehole at times Oliver's dad was not a physically violent man. "His dad was just hard on him. Wanted him to be a Quidditch player ever since he was a young boy. Chaser preferably, but he settled for keeper. Wanted him to join a national team, never mind that less than one percent of the recruits are straight out of school. They usually pull from teams like Puddlemere, players who have proven they can handle the rigorous demands of professional level Quidditch. When Oliver was offered a reserve spot his dad told him he might as well just go work at Flourish and Blotts for all the good an offer like that would do for his prospective career. McGonagall thankfully stepped in and told him not to listen to his father and accept the offer. Most people have to try out two or three times before they are offered anything. Doesn't surprise me that he wasn't exactly thrilled about Oliver coming out as gay, considering how much emphasis was always put on his son being what he considered a 'real man.' I admit his mum was a bit of a surprise, but she always tended to just go along with whatever her husband said."

A hollow pain arose from his chest, his throat tightening with emotion. He should have been a better friend to Oliver. When his best mate of eight years was dealing with the rejection from his parents, whom he always idolized despite some of the things which were said regarding his career prospects, and the public backlash from going against the societal norm in Quidditch of always letting people assume straight; he had been burying himself under piles of Ministry paperwork. Systematically cutting himself off from everyone he cared about, burning the letters from Oliver and his mum until they finally stopped coming. If he could go back and do it all again, he would have listened to Oliver and taken a few days to cool down then gone back to his parents and tried to smooth things over. 

Might have saved both of them several years of heartbreak. He often wondered if he would have stuck it out at the Ministry for so long if he hadn't felt so isolated. Would he have gone back after the war? When he thought about his career post battle of Hogwarts, he hadn't necessarily wanted to return the Ministry, a place where every single day he had to walk by the exact location where he witnessed the murder of Rufus Scrimgeour and many others. Constantly hurrying past corridors and rooms where unspeakable horrors occurred during his time under deatheater run Ministry so he wouldn't have to remember. He didn't exactly know what to do with his life, so he defaulted to what he knew. Thought he could help build back the Wizarding world better than before. 

That was something he and Harry shared. A belief that they were somehow responsible for righting every wrong regardless of the fact it was an impossible feat to accomplish alone. Harry was moving on, going to teach at Hogwarts and make a difference by ensuring the younger generations were taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by a competent professor, something which was never experienced by any of them (Lupin excluded from that, but he only lasted one year and had other issues to worry about). 

He supposed he could start with trying to repair his relationship with his family members. His family deserved a happy Percy who genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together, and he deserved at least on family picture where he didn't look like he would rather be stuck in a closet with a horde of blast ended skrewts than standing next to anyone he was biologically related to. Oliver deserved that as well, after willingly putting up with his mother's blatant disapproval the man deserved one Sunday dinner spent in blissful peace. 

"Remind me to buy Oliver a beer later," Harry nudged him, his head turned away from him and his voice sounding smaller than before. 

"Remind me to buy him a beer as well," he murmured, offering a half smile when his gaze met Harry’s once more.

Harry shifted awkwardly; his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. The quiet between them becoming increasingly evident as the seconds ticked on without either of them speaking. Finally Harry huffed a laugh, throwing his arm around his with a grin. "Shall we go find the others oh dear brother-in-law?"

He realized that much like George it had been a long time since he had a conversation with Harry which was separate from the group at large, not counting the visit Harry paid him to perform his duties as Oliver's stand in brother. Finding he was rather enjoying this day as they joined Angelina and George who were standing off to side and pretending as if they hadn't been listening in on their conversation. 

"Still have quite a bit of time before the match," Angelina said, looking casually down at her watch, her curious brown eyes scanning his face for… well, he wasn’t sure. 

"That we do, my dear," George replied, sneaking around behind him to seize one of his arms while Angelina grabbed the other one. He was trapped between the evil couple, both of whom had iron grips on his arms and were now dragging him down a hallway. He tried to dig his heels in but the floor was polished concrete and his dress shoes were not giving him the traction he needed to make his great escape. 

He didn't like this. 

He didn't like this one little bit.

"Where are we going?" he demanded as three people pulled him down a labyrinth of windowless hallways which seemed to be leading them further underground judging by the damp cold which was settling into his bones. He had a sinking suspicion which was not helped by the mischievous grin George gave him over his shoulder as he and Angelina continued to march him down the narrowing hallways with Harry by his side giving him approving glances out of the corner of his eye and occasionally telling the two in the front left or right. 

At least he finally managed to get Harry off his back a bit. Too bad first thing Monday morning he was going to start researching how to cast a Fidelius Charm on himself without having to be tied to a specific location. His family would never be able to find him, the only people who would know where he was would be Oliver, Penny, and the rest of the wizarding and muggle world. To his family he would be a ghost, flitting about unseen by them to avoid any further torment and humiliation at their hands.  

"You'll see," Angelina sang out to him, her voice echoing off the surrounding walls as they continued on. Her tone did nothing but confirm his fears that he was about to see a certain pair of warm brown eyes for the first time all week. Believe it or not he had not avoided Oliver on purpose, between their two schedules hanging out in person was nearly impossible. Oliver was absorbed in Quidditch practices, meetings with management, and strategy planning from sunup to sundown. Around nine in the evening they would talk on the phone for an hour or so, towards the end he could always hear the exhaustion creeping into the edges of Oliver's voice. Pausing longer before answering a question as though Oliver had dozed off for a second and jerked awake to find he had no idea what was going on in the conversation, he knew if they were sitting next to each other the man would have tried to power through. 

He simply wouldn't stand for that. Oliver's first match as captain of Puddlemere would not be played while sleep deprived, he had ensured it by calling the man yesterday evening and having him send picture evidence that he was safely tucked into bed by half past eight. The picture of a drowsy Oliver cuddling an annoyed looking Niffler was now saved to his phone. He may or may not have called Penny to figure out how to achieve such a feat and was still trying to decide if he should do as his best mate suggested and make that his screen saver. Currently his dilemma was if such a gesture would be considered too forward or not. Figuring he should at least wait until after their date on the off-chance things went horribly south. 

Not that his insistence Oliver actually took care of himself leading up to the big match meant he was completely devoid of any anxiety related to seeing the man in person. It wasn't like they had necessarily sat down with each other and spoken plainly and openly about where the events of last weekend left the two of them and what the kiss meant for their relationship with each other. There was a pesky sprouting of hope he desperately clung to that perhaps Oliver was miraculously on the same page as him. 

He thought the odds might be in his favor. Oliver had been the one to suggest a date, never seemed annoyed when they spoke on the phone, sent him a few texts when something happened he thought he might find interesting or funny, and had hinted at the suggestion of having dinner together once he got back in three weeks. 

There was also that niggling little voice at the back of his head to contend with, the same one which constantly asked after Oliver and simultaneously assured him the man wanted nothing to do with him. It was exhausting really to constantly have to field questions about how Oliver's practice had gone? Did he finally manage to work out the kinks of that new play he came up with during the middle of a conversation last night?  Was there adequate time for him to pace the pitch before the match this morning as he was apt to do? What did Oliver say about him, if anything, in the interviews today? Why would anyone want to read about him anyways when there was someone far more interesting standing right in front of the press? And of course, the age old question of why would someone like Oliver ever be interested in the likes of him in the first place? 

That was one question he had not been able to answer this entire week, trying desperately to think of reasons why he was quite the catch. So far, his list was concerningly minimal and he was no closer to his answer. 

He felt as if the stone walls were closing in on him. The hallway was getting smaller the further underground they traveled and along with it his air supply was slowly diminishing. His knees were going to give out any second and he would stumble to the ground in a great heaping lump, they were going to have to roll him to the medi-witch tent. 

They should turn around, go back the way they came from and away from Oliver. The game would be starting soon, and he didn't want to be late getting to his seat, his mum would be so cross with him if they were late. Didn't his brother and his future wife understand that he didn't know how to properly process complex emotions? How was he supposed to learn in the span of a few seconds? He was going to blunder this, he just knew it. Destroy the progress he made with Oliver before anything between them ever truly got started because he was a giant man-child who didn't know how to properly string together a sentence which involved the dreaded words, "I feel."

As they came to a wooden door clearly marked with the words "Puddlemere United Locker Rooms" etched onto a gold plate and stuck to the cement walls, it seemed as if the time to lean about processing emotions was now, whether he was ready or not he and Oliver were going to have to say something face to face. 

Angelina gave three sharp knocks followed by several choruses of, "we need to talk to Oliver," before the door to the locker room banged open. The handle catching against the wall beside it and nearly toppling over the old wooden coat rack where the teams' normal robes were hung as his nerves skyrocketed. He flinched at the racket, immediately feeling the muscles of his neck and shoulders tense. His hands came up to meet with forehead, essentially locking his head in his own firm grasp. 

"Liam!" Simone's voice came from somewhere within the room. "Do try and be gentle wouldn't you. We don't want the managers to be handed a bill for damages to this shitty locker room."

"Don't know how they would possibly notice. Our poor captain had to resort to magic to avoid having an ice-cold shower before the match," Avery huffed, appearing at Liam's shoulder with her brows arched expectantly at their sudden appearance. "How can we help you four?"

“What the bloody hell do you want Weasley?” Simone all but growled, appearing as if out of nowhere and staring at him in contempt. 

Angelina and Harry glanced between the two of them, a pause in the conversation as George mulled it over then gave Simone a grin while leaning against the doorway. "Which Weasley? Me? Angelina, who is going to be a Weasley in a year or so? Perhaps Harry, who will be marrying into the Weasley family in a few short months? Or were you referring to Percy? Because all of us just want to wish Ollie the best for his first match as captain."

"One of us will get him for you," Emilia stepped in to ease the mounting tension, waving her hand at Tamas who was pulling on the last of his gear and gave a nod of acknowledgment to the silent request. 

"Hey Oliver!" Tamas yelled over his shoulder. "Quit primping yourself! The Holyhead Harpies don't care how pretty your face looks; they will still want to smash it in with a bludger. Now get out here! There are some special people here to see you!"

Oliver walked into the main locker room in a billow of steam, fully dressed in his Puddlemere uniform and toweling his hair dry. A confused, yet cautiously hopeful, look on his face as his gaze moved from the floor to see the grinning faces of Harry, George, and Angelina. Along with his nervous one which was quickly fading to concern as Oliver's expression faltered into bitter disappointment for the span of one breath before quickly being replaced by an imitation of his normal easy grin, the realization hitting him like a bludger to the chest. Leaving him breathless and nearly gasping for air. 

Oliver had for one brief moment thought he would walk out to the open arms of his estranged parents who had changed their minds at the last minute and came to support their son. Instead of a heartfelt reunion, he found them; and while he was certain the man was happy to see them, they were not who he had been wanting to find on the other side of the door.  

"Hey," his foam finger fell from his hand, pushing faceless people aside to cross the room at record speed and placed his hands on either side of Oliver's face. Giving his date a once over while trying not to seem overly concerned. Unsure if the others caught the change in the man's expressions and not wanting to cause him to become upset right before the match. Running a hand through Oliver's damp hair, he gave a small smile before tilting his head. "Are you pre-emptively drowning yourself in the shower in some sort of pre-game ritual?" 

His lame attempt at a joke had the desired effect, Oliver's grin widened and softened a bit, his brow arching before he let out a soft chuckle. "Afraid your sister won't get off that easy. If she wants to beat us, she will have to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Here! Here!" Tamas and Liam roared, their fists pumping in the air. Both of them were quickly silenced by Emilia and Avery, who hit them on the shoulder repeatedly. Simone was boring holes into the two of them, her arms crossed across her chest and her eyes narrowed in obvious hatred of the man who had his arms around her best mate. Archie stood off to the side, completely at a loss for what was happening, looking to anyone who would make eye contact with him for some guidance in what he should be doing at this moment. 

"Come on," Angelina took charge of the situation, starting to round everybody up and push them towards one of the doors lining the far wall. Oliver's teammates were all putting up a bit of fight, most of them were grumbling about not wanting to miss the show while being shoved out of the main locker room. "Let's give these two lovebirds a moment of privacy before the big match."

He opened his mouth to protest Angelina's use of the phrase 'lovebirds', dropping his arms as he stared at her blankly before he decided to snap his jaws shut. Best to just clear that little mess up after he left the locker room and Oliver couldn't hear him. He would admit he had missed Oliver's comforting and warm presence this past week to the point of a physical ache within his chest and sure he cared deeply for the man, but that was all he was willing to admit at the moment. Anything else was asking for a breakdown and he simply didn't have time to fall apart emotionally when he had a project to research and a series of interviews to prepare for. 

While he was currently engaged in a war of conflicting emotions, Oliver was left to glance suspiciously around the room before resigning himself to his fate, albeit warily and with no small amount of trepidation. 

"Eat this," Harry produced a granola bar out of his pocket, tossing it at Oliver who caught it easily. "You look peaked, and I will not be picking your arse up off the pitch when you decide to pass out your first game as captain."

Oliver looked like he was about to fix the young man with a glare, instead rolling his eyes at the obvious concern for his well-being. Ripping the wrapper off and taking a giant bite, "happy?" Oliver asked through a mouthful of granola.

"Ecstatic," Harry answered, not bothering to turn around as he paused briefly in the doorway. "Percy, make sure he eats the rest of that. Probably hasn't had a single bite since I shoved the other one down his throat early this morning."

He could see the ire tearing through Oliver, if not for the granola he was angrily chewing he probably would have had a string of Gaelic insults to share with the group. The locker room door clicked quietly closed as they both stood awkwardly facing each other. All at once, all of the fight seemed to deflate from Oliver who just shrugged aimlessly still chewing on his granola bar, though not nearly as aggressively as before. 

He hadn't seen those brown eyes in a week and was currently experiencing trouble forming full sentences, considering his brain was short-circuiting and a light mist of steam was coming out of his ears at the site of Oliver in his Puddlemere uniform. While he noticed that fact before, it was finally registering to him just how good the man looked in the outfit which was obviously tailored to his form. The simple function of saying anything at the moment seemed to require more breath than usual, his lung capacity diminishing by the second as he tried to simply focus on remembering to breath in and out. Normally when he experienced similar sensations of restricted airflow some sort of fear-based response was the underlying culprit, this was different. 

His heart tugged against his chest, the same as it had last weekend. Familiar but that something just slightly different creeped around the edges once again as he stared at Oliver. Not necessarily bad- just not anything he had ever experienced before. 

"Not that I'm not thrilled to see you," Oliver began, shuffling from foot to foot and shoving his hands in the pockets of his robes as he stared at some fixed point on the wall in front of him. “But what brought this surprise visit on?” 

"Meddlesome siblings and their significant others," he busied himself with examining the faded tiles on the floor and chipped paint on the ancient metal lockers lining one wall. One would think professional players would have locker rooms indicative of their salaries, however this particular one looked no better than the outdated fieldhouses at Hogwarts. “Better question would be how are you holding up for your first game as captain?"

Oliver hummed in return, stilling his feet and crossing his arms over his chest, eyes still fixated on the wall. "Fine, the anticipation right before the start is always the worst. Once I am in the air then everything will not be quite so-" Oliver trailed off, waving a hand vaguely through the air as though he was supposed to fill in the blanks himself from such a gesture. 

“Want to talk about it?”

"Not really," Oliver gave him a tight smile.  

He hummed, feeling a warm, soft glow in the center of his chest before he smiled back at him. There was no need for a grand declaration of how crazy he was about Oliver at the present moment, but he wanted him to know that he cared about him and believed, wholeheartedly, in his ability to win this match and the league cup in general. “Ok. Just so you know, I am here if you ever need to discuss something. You are a pretty great captain and strategist, and I know that I am supposed to support my sister and all, but I sort of think Puddlemere might just have the upper hand in this situation.”

Being well acquainted with how superstitious Quidditch players could be, he knew better than to outright wish anyone good luck. Having been viciously snapped at by Charlie his first year when he inadvertently put Gryffindor's chances for the entire season at risk by wishing his older brother luck at the breakfast table. With Oliver being his best mate and all, he hadn't wanted to say nothing to him before the matches at Hogwarts, so over the years he found other ways of wishing Oliver luck without actually uttering the taboo phrase. 

"I sort of think we might have the upper hand as well," Oliver said with a bark of laughter and a casual wave of his hand as though the impending victory was inevitable. The infamous blackboard Oliver always used in the dormroom when he was planning new plays and to unveil them to his teammates at the crack of dawn loomed in the far corner of the room. As soon as he left, he knew little squiggly lines would appear on the surface for a last-minute review just to make sure everyone understood the plan. "I am a brilliant strategist, and once we win this game then my teammates will agree with my assessment instead of telling me take up a hobby."

"I sort of think you might be correct," he laughed, turning heel and starting towards the door where everyone had disappeared through. If he knew George and Angelina, they were both listening in on their conversation, hoping to stumble across some juicy gossip to terrorize him with all afternoon. 

"Perce!" Oliver caught him as he turned to leave, his fingers just barely gripping around his upper arm as he gently tugged him back towards him with an odd look on his face. Blinking at him slowly, while his fingers flexed against his skin as though he was trying to convince himself of something and struggling with an internal monologue. "You know, it's customary for the captain to get a good luck kiss before a big match."

He could just leap at the man and snog him senseless with no second thought. Though, that approach might be a little forward and perhaps bordering on desperate. "Is it now?" he asked with a coy smile, tapping his chin with one long finger like he was trying to recall something important. "Never saw you get one of those at Hogwarts and your team won the majority of their matches just fine."

"It is a professional Quidditch tradition," Oliver clarified, taking a small step closer. "I wouldn't have had any use for it during Hogwarts. Besides, the one person I would have wanted to kiss only saw me as a friend and nothing more."

"I see," he nodded his head slowly. Trying not to overanalyze every word Oliver said, feed every hopeful delusion that perhaps his crush was on the same page as him and had been for some time. That person couldn't be him, certainly not. His luck wasn't quite that good. "And who would normally perform this important task?"

Oliver shrugged his shoulders, taking another small step forward with an easy grin still on his face as he played along with their little game of cat and mouse. "Don't know. Never been the captain of a professional Quidditch team before. Kind of uncharted territory."

Fighting back a grin, he hummed for a minute. "Well- no worries. I am sure someone will come along and offer up their lips in sacrifice for the good of Puddlemere's chances."

"Tamas and Liam offered but I politely declined," Oliver glanced down at his lips, then caught his eye again with a smirk which caused his stomach to flip over every which way. His thick eyebrows quirking upwards as his gaze roamed down to his lips again, not bothering to be subtle. "Thought it might ruin our friendship."

He wrapped one arm around Oliver's neck with a teasing grin, taking the other hand and twirling one of his damp curls around his finger. His mouth was so close to Oliver's, and he could smell the faint scent of his shampoo along with the peppermint from his toothpaste. All of it was drawing him in and causing his mind to go fuzzy around the edges. "Hoping to ruin our friendship, eh?"

A pregnant pause followed the question. The atmosphere suddenly seemed to twist from slightly awkward to one thick with anticipation. The brown eyes in front of him were catching the light from the horrid fluorescent lights overhead, the flecks of gold sparkling and he thought that Oliver could make even an outdated and dingy locker room look absolutely incredible. 

"That was the general plan," Oliver grinned at him, his eyes glowing with desire. It was a look which shot a shock of warmth through his entire being, causing him to fall even harder than before, right into the arms where he felt the safest and most secure. 

All it took was a soft kiss on his lips for every one of the conflicting thoughts and feelings to be pushed out of his mind. 

The two of them had been spending far too much time this past week talking and not nearly enough time snogging. No need to discuss anything at the moment, he would take Oliver's lips moving against his own as confirmation they were on the same page. 

They broke apart when they both began to run out of air, Oliver's arms remained around the small of his back and held him close against his chest. The lingering heat remained from their bodies pressed against each other and their lips just barely grazing as they both caught their breath for a moment. 

He marveled at how easy all of this felt. Not the parts where he wasn't next to Oliver and his self-doubt and tendency to ruin anything good in his life set in, but the parts where he could just simply enjoy being next to someone he cared about and who seemed to care about him. While he didn't mind going slow and giving them both time to adjust to the implications of taking their relationship to the next level, he wanted to show Oliver that he was as serious as he could be about pursuing his affections. 

Wavering back and forth for a minute before deciding he might as well just go for it. He was a Gryffindor- and Gryffindors were brave. Didn't matter that what he felt for Oliver was soul-crushing and consumed his very being, he would just have to push past the fear from the force of his emotions and crack on.

"And um" he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the raspy quality which always followed a good snog. "Is there a custom where the captain of the winning team gets a celebratory kiss as well?"

"Seems you are in luck, there is in fact an age-old tradition which mandates such an occurrence," Oliver coupled this quip with a suggestive smirk that caused his stomach to perform heroic flips and go weak in the knees. "Glad to see that you wholeheartedly believe in my team's imminent victory so early on."  

"Well, um-" he cleared his throat again, giving his head a small shake to try and knock some coherent thoughts loose. "We, um- we, might just have to partake in that tradition as well. Wouldn't want to be accused of being the reason why Puddlemere doesn't win the league."

"We certainly wouldn't want that," Oliver's brown eyes have not left his for even a moment and there was a warmth spreading through his body, making it harder for his legs to hold his weight when he was this close to the man. "Are you going to make me practically beg you for it again?"

Opting to play it a bit cooler than melting into a puddle on the tiled floor he pulled his face into what he hoped was an identical smirk, leaning in closely so he was almost touching Oliver's lips with his own, but not quite. "Haven't quite decided yet."

"Maybe this will convince you," Oliver spread his hands across his back, pulling him closer and pressed his lips against his mouth for a second kiss.

Oliver made that soft little noise in the back of his throat he loved so much, his own mouth opening to allow Oliver to deepen the kiss. 

This felt right. As though they should have always been snogging each other in the middle of a locker room and there was no alternative universe currently in existence which this very scenario was not destined to happen in one form or another. 

When Oliver made a movement like he was going to break the kiss, his fists came up to grip the front of the man's Quidditch robes and pulled him forward without hesitation. Oliver's soft mouth against his once again, and the world evaporated in seconds. He wasn't entirely sure how it happened but without breaking the kiss the two of them stumbled backwards until Oliver's back hit the lockers with a series of clanks and rattles that he knew would soon draw the attention of the others. 

He normally would have stopped to check if Oliver was alright, however there wasn't much that was going to get him to break the kiss at this moment. He had completely forgotten how to breathe. Even through his robes, jersey, and undershirt, he could feel the weight of Oliver's strong hands on his back. The slow movements of his fingers as they flexed and kneaded along his spine were making his knees turn to jelly, thankful they were pressed up against the lockers and Oliver had a grip strengthened from years of playing Quidditch.

Letting go of the fabric his hands found their way into Oliver's hair, his fists tightening around the strands of brown curls and eliciting a low moan from the man which caused his stomach to flip in ways he would never admit to. His hair was soft, his chest was solid, and his mouth was hot against his own.

Where the previous kisses were tentative and sweet, this kiss was fire and passion. An overwhelming need to get as close to each other as possible, desire laced into every movement of their lips against each other. Forgetting where they were for a moment as they sunk into the kiss. 

Their breathing and heartbeats becoming one. 

"I see you two didn't waste much time," Angelina's voice came from the doorway behind them. 

Chapter Text

 "I don't ever want to say goodbye then all of those nights, they would just be all for nothing... First few times that we hung out but we fell in love somehow. First time that I met you I didn't have a damn clue that I love everything about you, now I can't think of life without you. Eh, did you know that you're my whole heart? Eh, did you know that I'll never stop, no. Giving you everything I got 'cause I'm so. I'm so in love, I'm so in love. I don't ever want to stop this ride that we're on."  Lauv- All 4 Nothing

At the sound of Angelina's amused voice, they both shoved apart, heads snapping to the other side of the room. Oliver regarded his former and current teammates with a wary glare, looking very much like he had just been partaking in a rather heated snogging session. He took to smoothing out the man's Puddlemere uniform from where he’d gripped it in an attempt to ensure Oliver looked slightly presentable. He would rather the press not find out about this, certainly didn't want his mother to believe him to be involved in some sort of sordid scandal. 

His date cleared his throat still holding a staring contest with their intruders, most of whom had gleeful glints in their eyes and were grinning at them. It was Tamas who spoke first. "Hey! You found a hobby!" the big brute of a man came over and tousled his already messed up hair as if he had known him for more than just one week. "Judging by the state of the normally pristine Percy, I would say you are rather good at it. We were gone for what- ten minutes or so? Very efficient."

"That's our captain," Liam piped up, turning to Archie and nudging him in the ribs. "Efficient as always. Why waste time which could be otherwise used to snog his boyfriend against the lockers?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, a hint of a boyish grin on his face. "All right you lot. Anyone who isn't currently fortunate enough to be my teammate or the man I am dating needs to see themselves out-"

"Ollie!" George interrupted, batting his eyelashes at his former Quidditch captain. "I didn't think you were ready to tell anyone about us yet?"

"Awwww. You guys!" Harry crowed, glancing between the two men, looking the picture of feigned innocence. "I always rooted for the two of you to get together one day."

Oliver scowled in response, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back slightly to glower at the giggling idiots who were standing before him. "As I was saying. The three of you," pointing to George and Harry who were elbowing each other in the ribs and Angelina who was shaking her head at them. "Need to leave the locker room, you aren't technically allowed to be in here at the moment. My teammates need to pull it together and focus on the match, quite worrying so much about my personal life and what sorts of romantic encounters I choose to engage in. The only thing the six of you should be thinking of is how you are going to beat the Holyhead Harpies and advance us to the semi-finals. And Percy- well- Percy can do whatever he wants."

He sighed and looked over at his brother and future in-laws, not really wanting to go with them at the moment and face the impending ridicule but not wanting to necessarily stay and be in the way either. It felt like he was coming at this all wrong. Not that he wasn't used to romantic encounters occurring outside of an established relationship, he just simply wasn't used to snogging sessions with actual feelings involved. That was a whole new sensation for him and one he was eager to hang onto. The last thing he wanted was for the man to think he wasn't interested in him, because he was very much interested. "I should probably get to my seat. Don't want to miss your grand entrance."

"Certainly wouldn't want that," Oliver smirked at him. "Very much looking forward to looking out into the crowd and seeing you standing there looking all cute in my jersey while waving your foam finger around."

He could only stare down at Oliver, trying to force some blood flow back into his legs so he wouldn't resemble a newly born Hippogriff as he staggered about when trying to leave the locker room. Knowing he should say something to flirt back, currently speech eluded him. The ancient clock on the wall ticked, signaling another minute closer to the match and he still couldn't force his brain to string two words together. 

Oliver seemed to have finally had enough of the awkwardness hanging between them, with a roll of his eyes he pulled him forward by the front of his robes and crashed their lips together. He eagerly reciprocated, forgetting about his temporary dysphasia and their audience who were currently catcalling the two of them while Tamas and Liam let out loud whoops. The feel of Oliver's lips against his own again and his soft touch erased any lingering doubts that the desire burning between them was mutual. Making his impending exit all the more difficult. 

Oliver was the first one to pull away slowly, smiling softly up at him. "I will see you after the match. Don't think I have forgotten about that victory kiss you owe me."

"Don't worry Ollie wollie," Liam grinned at his captain who only sighed heavily in response. "I am sure that even if we don't win Percy will still give you a wittle consolation kissie to make you feel all better."

Tamas shot them both a sly look, his nose wrinkling as he nudged his teammates' shoulders who were nearest to him. "I think either way, Percy here is going to get more than just a kissie. I am thinking a private ride on Wood's broomstick later on tonight. Maybe even two or three if our captain isn't too knackered."

The locker room was in an uproar in a matter of milliseconds. The innuendos regarding Oliver's unfortunate surname as it relates to Quidditch themed sexual references became more and more lude as everyone threw in their contributions. Oliver stood with his hands on his hips, foot tapping impatiently against the ground as he waited for his teammates to bring themselves under control. When that did not happen, his ire grew in strength, and he was soon reminded of why he tended to avoid Gryffindor Quidditch practices when they were close to an upcoming match. "ALLRIGHT YOU LOT!" Oliver roared, immediately bringing an end to the banter as everyone stared wide-eyed at him. "Focus on Quidditch, that is the only thing which matters at the moment! Not my private life or what my boyfriend and I do in our off time!" Oliver turned to him, his face softening and his voice going back to a normal pitch. Brushing a piece of hair behind his ear with a small smile, calloused fingers finding their way to his cheek. "Not that I am yelling at you Perce. I of course think you matter, and you are very, very important to me," Oliver turned back to the others, his eyes hardening. "But you lot, anyone who is not wearing a Puddlemere United uniform needs to go. Don't care where, just go. Anyone who is wearing a Puddlemere uniform needs to knock it off and GET. YOUR. HEADS. IN. THE. GAME! We have a match to win and we are not going to do that by making crude jokes about my last name or discussing my private life! The only broomsticks you need to concern yourselves with are the ones which will be between your legs in less than an hour, might even make it up all the way up your arses if you don't knock it off."

"All right mate," George held up his hands in mock surrender to appease his friend, while Angelina picked at her nails as though she were completely unfazed by Oliver's little speech. Harry just shrugged his shoulders, secure in the knowledge that he was still the favorite and therefore generally safe from Oliver's wrath, which was usually fairly short-lived. "We are going. Come on Perce, I am sure Oliver has some squiggly lines to bore these poor unfortunate souls with. Don't care to repeat that period of my life, the nightmares are still causing me to wake up screaming bloody murder."

"He's not kidding," Angelina interjected, motioning to him to follow them out of the locker room. "He really does wake up sometimes in the middle of the night screaming about how 'he doesn't care if we need to beat the Slytherins, he is not getting up at the ass crack of dawn to practice.' It is actually quite funny."

Oliver sighed, tipping his head back to close his eyes and gather himself, his face twisting into a scowl as though his patience was running thin and he was about to blow.

"That's our Oliver," Simone gave her best mate a warm smile and fond chuckle from where she sat on the bench with Emilia, Avery, and Archie; waiting patiently for Oliver to begin his infamous pre-match speech. "Quidditch practice has always been a sacred time for him. Regardless of how early in the morning he drags your weary arse out of your nice warm bed to join him in his chosen place of worship."

Oliver scoffed, shooting a dark look at Tamas and Liam who remained standing, grinning away like fools as they watched the non-Puddlemere players slinking out of the locker room. "Well, what are you two idiots still doing standing about? Get your arses on the bench with the others so we can focus on Quidditch and winning against the Harpies."

He spared a glance back at Oliver who was standing in front of nosy teammates gesturing wildly towards the blackboard, allowing himself to stare at the man only for the length of a breath before turning back towards the open door and making his way out of the Puddlemere locker rooms in a daze. His lips still tingled from where they had been pressed against Oliver's and three nearly identical Cheshire grins were staring at him with knowing looks in their eyes. “Knock it off,” he groaned as he pressed his face into his hands, his ears gave him away as they began to turn red at the tips. 

“I’ve not said a word,” George leaned around Angelina as he turned to look over at him, knocking into Harry as he stumbled a bit and gave him a brief once over before clicking his tongue in an appraising way.

“You’re thinking things - I’ll have you know that I don’t appreciate having things being thought about me,” he muffled into his palms, making sure to leave some space between his fingers to ensure he didn't run into a wall. 

Harry scoffed, thumping him lightly on the back. "You're hardly worth thinking about, oh future brother-in-law of mine. Besides, only time I really care is if you are only kissing Oliver for the cameras. Seeing as there were none present for your little snogging session then I don't really have a single thought to send your way."

"So, are you going to get to ride Oliver's broomstick later on tonight?" Angelina asked eagerly. "From what I remember at Hogwarts, you are one lucky man."

"Please not this!" he all but whined, groaning as they continued to make their way out of the labyrinth of stone hallways and towards the lifts. 

Angelina huffed in amusement, as both George and Harry whipped their heads around to stare at her. "What?" she glanced between the two of them. "I spent most of my Hogwarts' Quidditch career in a locker room with the man. Plus, he and I go running some mornings when neither of us have practice. I was bound to see something at some point. You both know how it is."

Harry's and George's mouths opened and shut, and they were blinking rapidly, clearly unsure as to where she was coming from. "Not one time did we look-" George replied, turning to say something else to Angelina who was looking quite skeptical at the moment. 

"On purpose," Harry supplied helpfully, motioning that they should make a left turn, the dull roar of the crowd was now discernable to their ears indicating they were getting close. "Not one time did we look on purpose."

His feet carried him as though they had a mind of their own, through the stone hallways and towards the chanting crowd who were screaming the names of players he recognized and some he had no idea who they were. He would simply pretend as if this conversation was not happening, it was simple. If he didn't engage, then technically he could forget everything he just heard and pretend as if he wasn't related by blood to one out of the three. When that didn't work, he would simply borrow Tamas' or Liam's bat and beat it out of his head. 

Angelina tilted her head back and let forth a series of snorts and high-pitched giggles as George glared over at Harry in betrayal. "I knew it!" 

They continued on their way, the slight downhill decline he experienced earlier when they were making their way to the locker room was now uphill and he was truly no longer listening to the conversation behind him. Focusing on the ground and placing one foot in front of the other, hands on his hips and bent over at the waist. Scared to know just how much further he had to go before they reached their destination. Making a mental note to ask Oliver for some physical fitness tips so he wouldn't be quite so embarrassingly out of breath from the exertion next time he made his way to visit him before a match. 

He felt George's fingers wrap around his wrist, gently tugging to stop him, turning to find his brother's eyes bulging. "Hey Harry," George nodded towards the lifts where a group of reporters were standing with their cameras around their necks and quills at the ready, all of them were talking to each other and no one had noticed them yet. "Any chance there is another way to our seats."

"Not unless you want to climb up several thousand steps and even then, I am not sure we could access the door. Usually, the stairwell entrances are hidden on the main floors to better increase security after the disaster that was the Montrose Magpies vs. Pride of Portree match in 1997. They are supposed to be an exit only."

He frowned, staring at the group of reporters. While finding another way to their seats might be the easiest thing in the short-term he also knew that if he wanted to see this thing through with Oliver that the press was simply something he would have to deal with. Rolling his eyes at their dramatics as the three of them whispered to each other and gestured about, turning on his heel he proceeded to march towards the small group of people. "No time like the present," he insisted, trying to sound more sure of his decision than he felt. "Best to just get this over with and I am tired of walking. Don't really fancy hauling my weary arse up thousands of steps."

"Percy-" George followed his hurried footsteps with a frenzied air around him, two more sets of feet not far behind. "Wait please- you have no idea what this is going to be like."

"I am an adult," he insisted, slipping around Angelina who flung herself in front of him with her arms spread wide to try and stop his forward movement. "If I don't like the questions they are asking me then I simply won't answer them. I am sure that Oliver is asked plenty of intrusive personal questions, he simply deflects them or just outright states that he isn't going to dignify the question with a response. What makes you three think I am incapable of doing the same? I work for the Ministry after all, worked there during the war. I am capable of handling myself. I don't need three well-meaning babysitters to drag me about this stadium while running from some members of the press."

He could do this. He could face the press as the man who was dating Oliver Wood- captain of Puddlemere United. 

On the offchance he couldn't do this he would simply press the up arrow on the lift and enlist his babysitters to help fight off the vultures. Hole up in their private box with some wards to keep the press from getting in. He was certain that if he sent a letter to Oliver detailing his predicament the man would see to it that he was safely escorted out of the stadium after the match ended. 

As they approached the crowd blocking his access to the lifts, recognition set in. The horde of people swarmed him as cameras clicked away, questions were being hurled at him left and right as quills scribbled away on floating pieces of parchment. Remembering the advice Oliver gave him during their flying lessons first year, "eye on the prize and don't look down." That is exactly what he did, gaze fixed on the lifts which were several hundred meters away, making his way slowly towards them. Shrugging off George and Angelina who attempted to grab onto his arms and pull him along behind them.

"Who's going to win the Quidditch match today?"

"Whichever team has the most points once the snitch is caught," he replied coolly, continuing to elbow his way through the mass of people. "I don't foresee either teams' keeper being the type to not block the majority of the Quaffles being lobbed at them. So, there is a good chance that whichever team captures the snitch will win the match." 

"How is Captain Wood feeling going into this match?"

"You would have to ask Oliver that question," he sucked in a breath to remain calm, professional. This was no different than the press conferences after Cornelius Fudge admitted that Harry had been right about the return of Voldemort. "Which I am sure you or one of your colleagues have already inquired about. So, I have nothing more to add." 

"How did you and Wood meet?"

"On the Hogwarts Express during our first year. He asked to sit with me," eye on the prize, he was inching closer to the lifts. 

"Why did you two lose touch after graduating Hogwarts?"

He pretended as if he didn't hear that particular question, he could always blame it on the fact that most of the reporters were talking over each other and they were already competing with the roar of the crowd. 

"Did your falling out have anything to do with you siding with the Ministry?"

He just kept moving forward, head held high. Knowing that Oliver would not have answered that question either, however he was a little more eloquent than his date when it came to fielding questions. Remembering the infamous interview with one of the Ministry journalists, when asked if Oliver believed the Ministry or that liar Harry Potter, he told the woman to 'go fuck off and that she had better shut her mouth about Harry.' Neither the Ministry nor Puddlemere had been very happy about that particular incident, fined several hundred galleons and benched for three consecutive games if he remembered correctly. Certain if he asked Oliver about it today the man would express zero remorse for his actions, considering that his outright refusal to publicly apologize was what got him the punishment in the first place. That and what he said to Minister Fudge when questioned, but he couldn't think about that without bursting into hysterics over his boss's face when Oliver just let loose in his office, that Scottish burr carries and carry it did. All the way down the hallway because no one thought to put a silencing charm around the office door. Several people learned some new words that day and quite a lot about Harry's Quidditch statistics, which apparently were very important to mention at the time.

"How likely is it that Wood will be injured today?"

"That is impossible for me to answer," he replied, jabbing the up arrow on the lifts and staring at it as though it had in some way personally offended him. "There are seven hundred fouls in Quidditch, and I am sure over the course of his career Oliver has experienced most of them. Considering that he is being fouled while flying 150 feet in the air with black balls zooming around trying to knock into him. Coupled with the fact there is nothing but a broomstick separating him from the hard ground beneath him, then I would say there is a fairly high chance he will be injured in some capacity today. Next to seekers, it is the keeper who has the next highest statistical likelihood for sustaining an injury. Now, had you asked me if he was more likely to sustain a minor vs a major injury- well, I might have been able to give you a more precise answer."

Tapping his foot impatiently as he watched the numbers above it whirl down to their level at a glacial pace. By this point the other three had also fought their way through the crowd and were hovering protectively around him, keeping his eyes on the lift to avoid welling up with tears. He would be lying if he didn't admit he appreciated their willingness to jump in and protect him, he hadn't refused their assistance out of rudeness. This was simply something he had to face on his own. 

The doors opened and he stepped casually inside, holding down the button so the other three could slip in behind him. "Thank you for your time today," he addressed the reporters in his best press conference voice. "If you would like to have a conversation about broom safety or other measures which would ensure that Quidditch is fun for the fans and the players, then I would be happy to discuss those with you after the match. Or if you wish, at a later date," letting go of the button the doors slowly closed and with it so did the flashing of the cameras. 

Heaving a monumental sigh he slumped against the cold steel wall, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. Trying not to collapse to the floor as the adrenaline seeped out of his system, leaving his body exhausted and wishing for a comfortable seat to curl up in. He always felt like this after having to endure a tough interview or press conference. Calm, cool, and collected when in front of people but a shivering mess of a human being once the cameras were no longer pointed at him. Thankful they were the only ones in the lift so no one else would see his breakdown if he couldn't manage to pull it together. 

"Oliver would have been proud of you," George said, patting him on the shoulder. 

"Probably would have thrown in a few 'fuck yous' for good measure, but I like your style as well. Very diplomatic, fitting for a future Minister of Transportation. Which by the way, Oliver refuses to shut up about. If I have to sit through one more dinner where every other word out of his mouth has to do with you then I am going to stage an intervention. It's just not healthy," Harry snickered from nearby. 

He just hummed in response, a warm laugh escaping his chest before he could stop it as a memory bubbled up again. "Speaking of Oliver and his love of 'fuck yous,' one day I will tell you all what the man said to Minister Fudge and several other high ranking Ministry officials. There is no way they could have published that particular conversation."

"Oh Merlin!" Angelina groaned. "I don't think I want to know, but then at the same time I kind of do."

He opened his eyes, turning his head to face Angelina. "Trust me when I tell you that you want to know. I just can't tell you around any elderly adults or children because of the language which was used," smiling when she cast him a dubious glance. 

"Looking forward to that conversation," George declared, rubbing his palms together as if he were devising a dastardly plan. "One more thing I can tease my lovely former Quidditch captain about. Besides the usual."

The lift dinged, doors opening as George gave a cheeky grin and low bow, gesturing with one arm for him to take his exit, "after you oh great slayer of the press vultures and defender of Oliver's honor."

He caught his laugh before it had a chance to escape, biting his lips to hold it in. Deciding that he didn't have any reason not to join in on the gentle teasing, letting a low chuckle rumble out of him as he flashed George a cheeky grin. Puffing out his chest and doing an exaggerated walk as though he were a person of great importance. 

This was certainly a new development.  

He noticed it was getting easier and easier to just chat with his siblings and their significant others. Before he started to fake date Oliver he would often just sit and listen to the conversation going on around him, only offering his two cents when it was asked for. Otherwise, he risked being accused of offering an unsolicited opinion which was neither needed nor wanted. Something which was viciously whispered to him on more than one occasion when he had simply been trying to be an active participant and state a fact or opinion on a subject. 

For once he was laughing with his brother, instead of being laughed at. 

"There you all are!" his mother bustled up to them as soon as the door to the private box was opened, their giggles and snorts slowly dying down as she ushered them into the room where the rest of the Weasleys were all grinning at them. "We were wondering if the four of you got lost."

"Nope," Harry gave her a one-armed hug. "Went to go view the player profiles, then took a little side adventure which lasted a bit longer than planned." 

George grinned at him, his eyes crinkling along the edges. "Yeah, Perce here had to distract his boyfriend from his pre-match jitters. Very effective methods, I must say," his brother yelped and glared at Angelina when she jabbed him sharply in the ribs while Harry knocked him upside the head. Muttering to himself while he rubbed his sore spots, not seeing the issue in what he just said.

Anxiety clenched in his throat, while his mother had certainly calmed down quite a bit with her obvious dislike of Oliver, and his refusal to do as she asked and date a woman, there was still a momentous amount of tension between the two of them. The smiles were pained, forced onto both of their faces. The conversation stilted, carefully avoiding the elephant in the room each time they saw each other. 

"How is Oliver?" his mother asked, forcing a small smile and feigning interest. "First match as captain, correct?"

"Yes, first match as captain. He is fine, just a small bought of nerves which will clear up once he is guarding the hoops," he said, the slight tremor in his voice gave away his own nerves. Desperately trying to downplay his anxiousness at being stuck in a relatively small space with nearly his entire immediate family. When his mother merely nodded her head without offering any additional conversation, he cleared his throat and made his way over to the refreshments table where Ron was surveying his numerous options as though he were debating an important new regulation at the Ministry. 

Having only been to three professional Quidditch matches before; the World cup, one of Oliver's games where he actually got to play as a reserve, and Ginny's first game with the Harpies he wasn't exactly sure what he expected. Certainly not a private box with leather seats and a full buffet along with an assortment of beverages. 

After having received a thorough explanation of which dish was which from Ron, he filled up his plate with parmesan crusted chicken, pasta, and some salad. Selecting a spot next to Harry, George, and Angelina; settling into the leather seat which was just as plush and comfortable as he expected it to be. 

Definitely better than the regular seats and the stadium food they would be receiving, he thought as he took a large bite of the pasta dish. Not as good as it would have been had Oliver made it, but not horrible. Though, he was a bit biased in that opinion. He thought Oliver's cooking was perhaps some of the best he had ever experienced. 

"Would you look at this view?" Fred looked around appreciatively, wiggling his bottom further into the cushion and resting his head back with a sigh. "This is the one reason to have a best mate who is captain of a professional team as well as a little sister who also plays for the league."

"They recline!" George exclaimed, demonstrating to the entire box the capabilities of the seats in question. "Bless that man and his willingness to give us such fabulous tickets!"  

The announcers' voices boomed out over the pitch letting everyone know the match would start in about five minutes and to begin making their way to their assigned seats. He felt a bit bad for the fans in the lower sections of the stadium, while they were protected from the elements anyone else was liable to get soaked from the threatening rainclouds hanging overhead. 

"Where is Hermione?" he whispered to Harry, realizing there was someone missing from their usual little group. 

Harry just grimaced in return, glancing around before leaning over and whispering back. "Said she had to work today. Personally, I think she is just hiding from Fred. They were all cuddled up together on the dance floor at George and Angelina's engagement party, she has been freaking out about it all week. That woman has filled an entire roll of parchment with every possible scenario imaginable which ends with her potential relationship imploding in a spectacular fashion. Each one more fantastic than the next. I don't think poor Fred is aware of her little freak out at all, I get the sense he thinks things are going swimmingly between them."

He could certainly relate to that. While he hadn't necessarily written them down he had been known to create potential scenarios in his head, none of them ended well for Oliver and himself. Had he any idea how he managed to push through and stick around long enough to get to this point, he would offer some advice to his friend. As it were, he had nothing to really offer other than a vague 'just give it a chance.' Which honestly, at that point he may as well just not say anything at all. 

Finding he had nothing else to say to the younger man, he watched as his mother fussed over Fleur, who was seated in the front row of chairs and had a stool conjured so she could prop her feet up and rest. He had to admit he was rather looking forward to being around for the birth of his newest niece or nephew, while Teddy was always treated as one of the family and his mum referred to him as her grandson, this would be the first Weasley grandchild by blood. It was an exciting time for everyone, him especially, considering he wasn't exactly around for the birth of Teddy. 

"Care to play a drinking game?" George whispered to him, a mischievous grin on his face. "Every time our mum says the word grandchild or how excited she is, then you and I take a swig of butterbeer."

"We would be plastered by the time the captains shake hands," he snickered as his mum's voice carried across the box exclaiming about how wonderful it was that she might be blessed with a granddaughter to spoil and take on outings for some much needed 'girl time.'

George raised his glass to that, taking a deep swig of butterbeer with a wink in his direction. 

"Welcome everyone to the Holyhead Harpies vs Puddlemere United match," the announcers' voice boomed over the speakers, the roar of the crowd deafening as both sides chanted their respective team's anthem. George and Fred broke out into a rousing rendition of Beat 'Em Back and he waved his Puddlemere flag around, emitting a few tiny whoop whoops. "This is the first match for the playoffs to see who will advance to the semi-finals. It is a lovely day for a game of Quidditch and I know that everyone is excited to see their team advance to the championship. Unfortunately, only one team will win today."

Because Puddlemere had a new captain, the Holyhead Harpies would be introduced first. Seven women flew out onto the pitch with their fists pumping in the air, the only one he really cared about was Ginny. When she came flying out to take a lap around the pitch he cheered with the others, waving a Harpies flag he borrowed from Harry as a show of support for his sister.

"And now for Puddlemere United. Beaters- Liam Evitts and Tamas Varga. Chasers- Simone Lambert, Emilia Alexander, and making his debut as the new starting chaser Archie Morrow. Seeker- Avery Pickens. And finally making his debut as the new captain of Puddlemere United, keeper- Oliver Wood. Who is going into his sixth year with Puddlemere United, the first year he was a reserve and moved up to starting keeper the following season. Currently boasting the highest blocking average in the league-"

When Oliver made his lap around the stadium, while the announcer continued to give a recap of Oliver's impressive averages, the entire stadium was erupting in deafening cheers. Several groups of people were holding up signs with Oliver's face on them and others held messages for the keeper. He saw several marriage proposals, finding it rather funny, and just a bit ridiculous, that most of them had probably never met the man or if they had it was to briefly ask for an autograph. Normally he would have needed to squash down a flare of jealousy over seeing someone claim they were madly in love with a man he was interested in dating, however he didn't really feel very threatened by any of them. After all, he was the one who had been snogging the man right before the start of the game and he highly doubted Oliver had multiple snogging buddies. 

Fourteen players sat in a circle at eye level to their box seats, waiting for the referee to instruct the captains to shake hands and the subsequent release of the Quaffle to start the match. 

Oliver glanced in his general direction, giving a small wave which he shyly returned, unsure if the man could actually see him or not. Trying to hide the fact that he was feeling a bit flustered at the moment as a certain memory of pinning him against the lockers took over his brain. Shifting in his seat, he suddenly became aware of the stifling heat in the room. Which was strange, because it was late April and a bit on the chilly side as the unrelenting grey clouds rolled in over the Quidditch pitch. Probably would end up raining before the end of the match.

He was utterly in awe of the man who had now turned back around to face the other players, a hint of a smile still present on his face. His pining had officially reached an embarrassing level, deciding he could just deal with that issue another time he leaned back in his leather seat and adjusted his omnoculars to zoom in a bit. 

Might as well take advantage of the opportunity while it presented itself. Besides, he was certain he wasn't the only one in the crowd who was appreciating how good Oliver looked while sitting on his broom in full Quidditch leathers. Only a fool wouldn't think that was just a bit on the sexy side. 

Tamas and Liam seemed to have caught on, looking over in his direction and giving small waves as well, along with a few kisses blown at him just for good measure and probably to cause the furious blush spreading across Oliver's cheeks as he glared at them both and made a 'cut it out' motion with his hand. 

"That means they like you," Harry commented from beside him. "If they didn't, they would simply ignore your presence in Oliver's life. Trust me. Every time Timothy would hang out with us, they would pretend as if he didn't exist. It was kind of funny to watch Timothy talk to them and be ignored while Oliver snapped at them to knock it off."

"I wish Simone would simply ignore me," he muttered, watching as the two captains stood in the middle of the pitch and shook hands. A photo displaying on the screens positioned around the stadium, which portrayed the two of them as enemies. Never mind that Oliver told him he had been the flower boy at her wedding, since neither her nor her husband had any family members young enough for the traditional flower girl role. Something he was going to find picture evidence of, despite Oliver's reluctance to provide it to him willingly.

Harry gave him a sympathetic look, patting his arm without taking his eyes off the pitch, his voice dropping down to a whisper. "According to what I heard from Tamas there was a proper row between Oliver and Simone the morning after the engagement party. He and Liam stayed the night over at Oliver's since they were too pissed to apparate home and things got rather ugly when Simone came round that morning to check in. Neither of them spoke to each other on Monday at practice which is basically unheard of."

Given Simone's treatment in the locker rooms he guessed that she had not exactly taken Oliver's words to heart. Granted she hadn't said anything ugly to him in front of Oliver; come to think of it, she had been quite tame, relying on tone of voice and facial expressions. Probably not exactly what her best mate had in mind but certainly an improvement. Knowing Simone, she was taking advantage of some sort of loophole.

More concerningly, he hadn't heard about this particular incident directly from the source. Suddenly worried about why Oliver would keep something like that from him. Surely the whole fake dating thing hadn't come up, or at least Harry wasn't aware of it at this point. Certain that if Harry had gotten wind of that piece of news he would have already received an unexpected visit from the man to sort out why he was supposedly messing with his friend's emotions. Never mind that it was his emotions which were currently in turmoil.

At some point he needed to clarify whether or not he and Oliver were still fake dating or if this had officially turned into something much deeper. An answer he wasn't ashamed to admit he was a bit scared to receive. Well- more like terrified. 

"Oliver didn't have much to say on the issue," Harry continued on, watching as Oliver and the Harpies' captain mounted their respective brooms and rejoined the circle of players. "When he and I were having dinner this past week he just kept changing the subject. I got the feeling the fight upset him though as well as Simone's rather cold treatment of you."

He mulled over what Harry just told him, humming to himself as he looked out onto the pitch as though it held the solution to all his issues, his fingertips drumming idly against his leg. While he certainly didn't want Oliver getting into any fights, verbal or otherwise he did rather enjoy the idea that Oliver would stick up for him when he wasn't around to defend himself. He would have to come to terms with Simone soon though, the two of them could not continue in this direction for much longer. 

"The Quaffle has been released and the game begins! Puddlemere takes possession of the Quaffle quickly, Lambert swoops up the pitch as she tosses the Quaffle to Alexander. A bludger comes right for her, forcing her to pass the Quaffle to Morrow- who is making his debut as starting chaser for Puddlemere United- in order to dodge the bludger. Holyhead Harpies' chasers are hot on his tail as he approaches the hoops, tossing the Quaffle back to Lambert, she shoots- and she SCORES! Puddlemere is now in the lead 10-0."

The Holyhead Harpies gained possession of the Quaffle, Ginny passed it to one her teammates who rushed the goal posts at the other end of the pitch, but Oliver was too quick, catching it in the crook of his right arm. Tossing the Quaffle back to Archie who was sitting nearby with his arms outstretched in anticipation, zooming up the pitch where he passed the ball to Emilia who tried to score but this time the Harpies' keeper blocked the goal.

***

Both teams continued like this for quite a while, it was becoming apparent with each passing minute that both teams were, in fact, fairly evenly matched in skill level. Puddlemere scored again, making the score 20-0. Not long after Ginny finally managed to get a Quaffle past Oliver, giving the Harpies their first goal, which was met to thunderous applause. 

The game continued to increase in intensity, his eyes were constantly drawn to the Puddlemere goalposts where Oliver sat intently watching the other players. The slight downward curve of his mouth, his high cheekbones, those gorgeous eyes of his. He looked utterly breathtaking, the steady stream of sunlight from between a break in the clouds illuminating him from behind, creating a halo-effect on his hair. As though he was glowing from within, his sun-kissed skin shining with perspiration as his keen gaze kept track of thirteen other people plus two bludgers zooming around.

Feeling a familiar warmth spreading from the center of his chest he leaned forward, placing his chin in his palm and just enjoyed the opportunity to stare unabashedly at the man. Usually when they were together, he had to pretend as if he wasn't staring. He had no such qualms at this moment and was taking full advantage of this new found freedom.

"You're looking at the wrong goalposts mate," Harry leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Puddlemere has possession of the ball."

Warm heat licked at the back of his neck as it crawled towards his face, placing his hands in his lap as he forced his eyes to move to the other side of the pitch. The crowd clapped and screamed as Simone hurled the Quaffle through the right goal hoop, securing another ten points for Puddlemere United. "Thought I saw the snitch," he muttered as George and Harry both snickered from nearby, soon joined by Ron and Fred who were quickly filled in on what was so funny. 

Harry shook his head at him, pointing to some vague spot on the field, he only half pretended to be able to understand exactly what Harry was trying to point out to him. "Nah, mate. The snitch has been flitting around over there for a good ten minutes. Neither seeker is very interested in catching it at the moment and it is still a bit early in the match for them to start trying to head each other off."

"Neither team will catch the snitch until they are at least 50 points in the lead," Fred commented, waving his Puddlemere flag as Oliver made a rather spectacular save, the dull roar of screaming fans drowning out the announcer's voice. 

"I agree," Angelina nodded her head along with several others who followed the league standings like they were some sort of religion. "Since both teams made it the semi-finals last year, neither of them will want to be the considered the under-dog. Judging by how unconcerned both seekers are with actually capturing the snitch I would say we are going to be here for a while."

Fleur twisted in her seat, her long hair swishing across her shoulders. "How long do you think the match will last?"

"Wouldn't be surprised if we were here until dinner," Angelina shrugged. "Considering we have been sitting in these seats for over an hour and the score is only 30-10, nope- wait- yep- still 30-10, though that one was close. Thought it would slip through Oliver's fingers there for a minute."

Fleur let out a small groan, which he echoed in solidarity. While he didn't hate Quidditch he rather preferred short matches. Allowed him time to pursue his other interests and not spend his entire day sitting in a stadium seat while watching people throw a red ball around, while two black balls zoomed about on the pitch and tried to knock players off their broom. Yes, it was exciting at first but after several hours the entire thing began to grate on his nerves, and he started asking Merlin to please just let someone catch that bloody snitch. 

As the match continued to drag on he realized that today would be a pray to Merlin kind of day.

***

He clapped along with the others as Oliver made yet another impressive save, situating himself to get comfortable as his bum was beginning to go numb, when he heard Angelina gasp from beside him. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him violently, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Oliver just gave the signal to Simone. They are about to start using some of the new plays he has undoubtedly been cooking up for this game."

He had no clue what she was talking about when she referred to the signal, but whatever it was he hoped it meant this match would quite stretching into eternity. "Excellent. Perhaps that will speed this along. Some of us do have other things to do with our day besides sit here and stuff our faces."

"Best be careful, Percy," George waggled a finger at him, taking a large bit of some sort of cookie. "If Oliver hears you talking like that he won't give you any more kissies today."

Fred was immediately invested in the conversation, leaning over his twin with wide eyes. "I hear you had my former captain pinned against the lockers. Never thought I would see the day where on the morning of a match Oliver Wood could be distracted by anything which wasn't Quaffle shaped."

"Oh," George waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Oliver was thoroughly distracted. That man could not have picked a Quaffle out of line-up when we walked back into the room. Wish we had known about that little trick during our Hogwarts' days, eh."

"Yeah," Fred nudged his twin. "We would have put our dear brother to good use had we known how effective a strategy that would have been."

"Watch the match won't you," he took a bite of his brownie, humming in happiness at the smooth chocolate which practically melted on his tongue. "Apparently Oliver is about to prove why he was picked as captain of Puddlemere United."

The play was as impressive in action as it was when Oliver was describing it to him over the phone. Simone threw the Quaffle to Emilia, before dropping down beneath the action. Above her, Emilia and Archie threw the ball back and forth to each other in rapid succession as they sped down the pitch. Weaving and dodging opposing players and bludgers as all three sped towards the Harpies' goalposts. Two things happened at once, Simone swooped towards the right and positioned herself above the other two chasers as Archie released the ball upwards into Simone's waiting hands who threw it with all her might at the left goalpost. 

The keeper was not expecting it and the Quaffle sailed through her outstretched hands. 

40-10 was now displayed on the scoreboard and the crowd was going wild. The announcer was giving an in-depth recap of the impressive play by Puddlemere United and breaking down the analysis of what maneuvers were combined in excruciating detail. Quidditch theory was only interesting when Oliver was babbling on about it, knowing that his rapt attention was more than likely due entirely to the person speaking rather than the topic of conversation. 

"That's our old captain!" Fred and George were screaming in unison, jumping up and down like they just won the Quidditch House cup.

"Brilliant strategist he is!"

"Bloody excellent keeper!"

"Top notch!"

"Spanking good!"

He couldn't help but notice that even his mother looked just a bit impressed, allowing herself two small claps for a team her only daughter was not playing for. Catching his mum's eye, as she turned to say something to Fred and George about piping down, he gave her a small smile which she returned, a slight nod of her head before she turned back around to face the pitch. 

Feeling a lump forming in his throat as his chest warmed, hoping this meant perhaps his mum was coming around but knowing not to get his hopes up too high. Cautious optimism was the way forward.  

Puddlemere gained possession of the Quaffle yet again, the same formation. This time when Simone swooped up, the opposing keeper followed the chaser with her line of site, intent on not being duped yet again. Emilia made to look like she was about to throw the ball upwards, instead sending it straight ahead. The Harpies keeper never even had time to react as the Quaffle went through the middle goal post.

50-10 in favor of Puddlemere.  

***

The score was 90-30 and it was half past two in the afternoon when the clouds opened up, dousing the players and the fans in the lower sections in a torrential downpour. Rain slogged against the windows as the players carried on as if nothing had changed, something he could never have managed given his abject horror at being even the slightest bit wet while wearing regular clothes. 

"And it isn't a Quidditch match in the UK without a bit of rain. If you aren't in one of the box seats, then grab your umbrellas and cast some warming charms Quidditch fans because it looks like this weather is here to stay for the next hour or so."

A bit of rain? Apparently, the amount of rain one considered 'a bit' was directly related to the number of times their brain had been rattled about by a stray bludger. 

As Puddlemere scored again, earning them another ten points it was becoming clear that the Holyhead Harpies were beginning to question their chances. Even through the storm he could see several of the fans groaning and anxiously staring up at the sky, no doubt praying the rain would somehow cause Oliver to stop blocking nearly ever goal. 

He had to admit that while the man had always been a fantastic keeper, over the past few years he had really honed his craft. Not just his skill level, but his overall strategy for the game as well. During Hogwarts he would never have had his players hold off on the new plays, eager to see them in action and encouraging them to just throw everything they had at the match. Now the man was calculated, getting a feel for the Harpies strategy before slowly introducing his own into the mix. 

It was rather brilliant and effective, given the scoreboard at the moment. While the Harpies could still technically win the match if they caught the snitch, according to what Angelina had said they would avoid doing so if they weren't fifty points in the lead. However, when faced with the choice between making it to the semi-finals and worrying about the margin they won the game by, he knew that advancing would always win out. 

Tamas suddenly streaked down the pitch, swinging his arm to hit a bludger hurtling right for Oliver's head, who was far too focused on the opposing chaser speeding towards him with a Quaffle in her hand. With the aid of his omnoculars he could see how Tamas' tongue stuck out in concentration from between his lips as he swung, nearly spinning in a complete circle from the force of the action. Oliver was none the wiser, reaching out his own hands to stop the Quaffle from going through the left hoop, throwing it to Simone who swooped up the pitch towards the Harpies' goalposts.

Letting out a shaky breath, he tried to keep his anxiety under control. No matter how many years passed, he could still picture watching the bludger smash into Oliver's face and his tiny body falling to the ground with a sickening crunch. Blood pouring from his nose as Madame Hooch stopped the match to rush over and check on him, then being levitated to the hospital wing by Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey where he stayed unconscious for a full week. A full week of him sitting by his best mate's bedside every chance he got and praying to Merlin he would move a finger or flutter his eyelashes soon. 

Oliver's eyes had been glued to Marcus Flint and his mind only thinking of how to keep the chaser from scoring to see that bludger coming, the close call was just a tad too close for comfort in his opinion. 

"Keepers have a very high injury rate," Harry pointed out unhelpfully. "Second only to seekers. Especially when the keeper is as good as Oliver."

He was already well aware of that fact, the only time a keeper wasn't a sitting target for bludgers was if they weren't very good at their jobs. Take out the keeper and you are guaranteed a shot that your team will win even if the seeker doesn't catch the snitch. Given that Puddlemere was now dominating the scoreboard his only hope was that Tamas and Liam would be a bit more proactive in keeping Oliver safe and that Avery would go ahead and make her move to catch the snitch. "Yes, well. I would like to get through one game I see live without witnessing Oliver being carted off on a stretcher."

"You do know Oliver, right?" George leaned around Angelina to stare at him. "That man would rather be tackled mid-air by an oncoming player than let a single Quaffle through his hoops without going down in a blaze of glory."

"That is what makes Puddlemere games so entertaining to watch," Fred commented through a mouthful of chips. "The sheer determination and grit that Oliver shows. That and watching him do very stupid things that most normal people would never attempt for fear of what happens if it doesn't quite work like they hoped."

Angelina jumped in to shush both of them, glancing over at him with a kind smile. "Let's go refill up some of this food since it is looking like we still might be here for a while."

Standing up to stretch his limbs, he glared down at his siblings who were all none the wiser having not been at Hogwarts to witness the horrific accident. "None of you are helping my anxiety with your observations," he spat at them. "He already made it through one traumatic brain injury, I don't care to tend to him through a second."

Angelina prodded him along against the small of his back and ushered him towards the buffet table, where he planned to eat his way through his emotions. He was in the middle of deciding between a peanut butter cookie and another brownie when Bill joined them. Piling food onto his plate in astonishing quantities, hoping that at least some of that was for Fleur, who was now eating for two. "Oliver will be all right," Bill said nonchalantly. "Don't listen to the twins. He plays professionally now and is captain. He won't take unnecessary chances."

Bill didn't know Oliver. That man would risk breaking his own neck if it meant he would stop a Quaffle from sailing through one of his hoops. That had not changed over the years given his injury rate and the severity of some of them. 

Sighing, he shook his head and shrugged lamely. "I suppose so," he intoned his displeasure at the topic, hoping Bill would simply let the subject drop for now. 

His brother hummed before pausing and turning thoughtful, nudging him with his elbow and a cheeky grin. "Trust me, Perce. When you have someone in your life that you care deeply about then you are a bit more careful. Why do you think I gave up curse breaking in Egypt to come work for Gringotts? Don't regret me decision at all, especially now that Fleur and I are growing our little family. You would have to blind to not see that Oliver really cares about you, he would think twice before letting himself get hit with a bludger," sensing his hesitancy to believe him, Bill rolled his eyes, giving him another nudge. "When that doesn't work, then Charlie and I will pay him a visit to remind him not to worry our baby brother so much."

The attempt at humor worked, he scoffed as a grin threatened to make an appearance on his face. Earning him a grin in return from a certain shaggy haired redhead. "It appears my work here is done. I am the glue which holds this entire family unit together. It's exhausting work, but somebody had to do it I suppose. Though, not everyone can do it while looking as fabulous as I do."

"Humble as always," he muttered, deciding that if Oliver wasn't even going to try and watch out for the black balls of death then he would need several brownies to calm his nerves. Plucking them off the table and depositing them onto his plate along with some pieces of assorted fruit for a bit of balance. "Good talking to you Bill."

"Good talking to you as well, Perce. Try and just enjoy the game of Quidditch and quit worrying so much about the what ifs."

Beside him Angelina hummed in agreement with the sentiments expressed, tracing his movements with her eyes as he continued to pick out food from the buffet with a persistent thought burning in her gaze that he couldn’t possibly attempt to decipher. "He's right you know. Oliver cares a great deal for you, any idiot can see that."

Swallowing hard, he turned his attention away from him and back towards the pitch where Oliver still sat in front of his hoops with a determined look on his face. 

Safe, for now.

He promised himself he wouldn't wait much longer to tell Oliver how he was feeling about their unique little situation. Really, it all hinged on this match. Not really caring to try and have an emotionally difficult conversation with a grumpy Oliver who was recovering from sting of losing his first match as captain, and one that carried such high stakes at that. 

Certain if Puddlemere won he could muster up the courage to lay his heart bare and tell the man every single thought flitting through his mind. Well, maybe not every single though, but at least most of them. 

Surely, he could manage something as simple as a conversation. 

***

The rain finally began to let up as Puddlemere scored another goal, making their lead 120-40. He knew the game was close to being over soon based on the number of times the seekers took off after something to either try and actually capture the tiny flitting gold ball, or to simply try and distract their opponent long enough to prevent the other from catching it. A strategy that, according to Harry, the Harpies' seeker was utilizing to keep Puddlemere from winning the match. Claiming with a certain air of smugness that he could see the snitch and it was nowhere near where she was currently heading towards. 

Not that he would have known the difference. He had yet to catch sight of the blasted thing, for all he knew the referee had forgotten to release the snitch and this game would simply stretch on for days before the captains resorted to calling a tie and agreeing to a rematch at a later date. 

Avery's head suddenly snapped to the left, halting her pursuit of the Harpies' seeker and executing a rather dangerous looking turn as she streaked towards something at the opposite end of the pitch. The Harpies' seeker quickly realizing what was going on and pursuing her opponent as they both raced towards the center of the pitch. 

"Allright Quidditch fans. It seems as if Pickens has seen the golden snitch, Gates hot on her tail as they both make a mad dash. While Puddlemere is certainly in the lead at the moment, it is not enough to win the game despite a snitch catch by the opposing team. The Harpies could win this thing by a fairly slim margin." 

Avery flattened herself on her broom and plunged into such a steep nosedive that his stomach lurched just watching. Regretting the number of brownies he stuffed down his throat earlier as he was in grave danger of seeing them in reverse. 

She had to be pushing the 250 miles per hour her Firebolt 3000 was capable of, ignoring the regulation which stated that 150 miles per hour or less was what was recommended for maintaining full control of the broom and stability while performing a nosedive under weather conditions such as these. 

None of that mattered right now. Hundreds of fans seemingly held their breath as a hush fell over the stadium, two seekers neck in neck hurtled towards the grass below them. Both women bumping each other as they tried to knock the other off course, hands outstretched ready to grasp the snitch at any second, using the other hand to force their brooms to go faster. Maintain their speed while being ready to pull out of the dive at any second as the ground fast approached.

Twelve players were hovering in mid-air, hope etched into every line of their face as they urged their respective seeker onward.  

A flash of gold.

Two hands snatched at the same time. 

A sharp intake of breath from everyone in the room as their hands flew to their faces in anticipation. 

A shrill whistle sounded from the referee as Avery pulled out of her dive at the last second and held up her fist holding the tiny golden snitch in triumph, her face a mixture of elation and relief.

The match was over, and Puddlemere United would progress to the semi-finals.

Oliver looked right at him, still sitting in front of the goal posts as the other five players were already rushing towards the center of the pitch, a beaming smile on his face. Locking eyes, Oliver mouthed, "thank you." 

He had no idea if Oliver could see him or not, mouthing back, "I knew you could do it." It didn't matter if the man could or not, he was going to say it to him in person, just to ensure he drove home the point. 

Oliver mouthed, "meet me on the pitch," pointing between the two of them and then down at the grass before finally moving from his spot, joining the others in enveloping Avery in a hug as they chanted something he couldn't quite hear. Their fists pumping in the air, celebrating their hard-earned win. There was no doubt in his mind that Oliver's eyes were filled with tears, thinking of what he would say to his teammates once they got back to the quiet of the locker room and he could address them individually. Congratulating them on their collective win as well as pointing out each person's strong suites during the match. 

Weaknesses would come on Monday, followed by a detailed plan to fix them by the semi-finals if he knew Oliver- and he did. 

The stands were still exploding in a thunderous applause from the Puddlemere fans, their feet stomping in unison as several people hugged each other and he was fairly certain more than a few of them were sobbing in happiness. The Harpies fans looked as if they had been hit by a rather nasty hex, mouths open in shock as they slowly processed what just happened. The realization slowly dawning on them, that though they had come so close to squeaking out a victory, their team's season was sadly coming to a close. 

He had to admit that at the moment he was feeling a mix of emotions. Elation for Oliver and all of the hard work he put into preparing for this match and slight disappointment for his sister and her teammates who had also worked hard leading up to today. The seven of them were currently huddling together in mid-air, no doubt consoling each other following their loss with promises that next year they would return the favor and beat Puddlemere.  

Receiving hugs from each of his siblings and their significant others in turns, words of congratulations were heaped upon him along with promises of buying both him and Oliver rounds of beers in celebration of the achievement.

His dad shook his hand, beaming at him as he recounted some of Oliver's more spectacular saves during the match. Stepping aside for his mum who looked up at him with eyes brimming with tears. "Puddlemere played well today. What sort of cake does Oliver like?"

"Chocolate," he replied automatically. "The man has a horrendous sweet tooth."

His mum gave a small cough, nodding her head as her hands hovered close to his own but not quite touching. "Well, perhaps I will make him a celebratory cake when he returns from Germany in three weeks."

It was a small thing, the fact that his mum remembered Oliver would be going on tour for a number of weeks. Bringing it up in conversation, without adding any slights about the rumors she heard regarding infidelity or any other gossip Witch Weekly reported on. Knowing that her way of showing she cared was to cook you something, the fact that she wanted to make Oliver his very own cake, especially considering he just knocked her daughter's team out of the running for the league cup this year, was a huge step forward for the two of them. "I think he would like that."

His mum didn't say anything else, a curt nod of her head as she headed out the door with her husband in tow. 

Everyone began to gather up their things as the Puddlemere players took a few victory laps around the stadium, the screens displaying their faces one by one. Fans were on their feet, chanting the names of various players. One in particular stood out to him. 

Gathering up his robes from the back of the chair, he couldn't help but think back to the evening when Oliver sat on the floor of his living room, doubting his abilities as a captain and opening up to him about the issues with his family. The night he put aside his own reservations and offered to do something for Oliver because he was his friend. Simply wanted to be there for him and support his dreams, not out of a sense of obligation due to an agreement between the two of them. Grateful he had been given the opportunity to witness his triumph in person.

Oliver's dream had come true, he had won his match and the crowd was screaming his name. 

If he had to do it all again, he certainly would have gone about it a bit differently. For starters he would not have waited so long to reconcile with Oliver, definitely would not have done so because he had some crazy idea for a fake dating scheme. Would have probably told his family about his sexuality before that Ministry party and just asked Oliver to go with him as his date. Not a fake date, a proper one.  

"You coming?" Harry asked from the doorway, leaning against the frame with an knowing look on his face.

"Yeah," he spared one more look over his shoulder at a still beaming Oliver as he made his way down to the pitch where a horde of reporters stood waiting for him. Eager to get his thoughts on winning the game and how he was feeling going into the next round of playoffs.

One thing was for certain, he would do it all again if it meant his life could end up exactly where it was at this moment. So much better than it had been a few months ago, all thanks to Oliver and his positive influence. 

The sun was only just beginning to make its way towards the horizon and even in his leather playing gloves Oliver’s hands had to be half frozen to his broom. Shivering against the wind as he pulled his cloak around him, marveling at how the heat of the afternoon disappeared with the torrential downpour the players experienced. The warm evening light cast long shadows over the Quidditch pitch as they made their way down to the green grassy area to wish Oliver and his teammates congratulations and offer their condolences to Ginny and her teammates. 

While the Holyhead Harpies would still be ranked in the top ten this year, he knew that would do little for his sister who was likely to be in a bit of a foul mood in the coming weeks. 

As they waited in the long line to be granted access to the pitch, VIP passes at the ready as the security guards looked as if they wouldn't give a second thought to ruffing somebody up who was trying to sneak past them, he cast a warming charm. Which did little against the damp chill hanging in the air as he pulled his robes tighter around him. 

"So," Fred grinned at him, robes wide open as he seemed impervious to the sudden change in temperature. "Ready to quit the Ministry and take up a life as a Quidditch groupie?"

"Hardly," he drawled out, refusing to believe there were actually people who went to every single Quidditch match for their specific team and hung around the players. What in the world did they do in their spare time? Besides the obvious of course. "Besides, Oliver enjoys that I am ambitious. Hardly think he would be impressed if I lazed about the flat all day and only left when he had a match."

His siblings and the others all grinned at each other, realizing his small slip. Torn between clarifying that by 'the flat' he meant his own and not one he and Oliver shared, and simply letting it be. Hoping that perhaps no one would voice their thoughts out loud, he should have known better. "The flat, eh?" George slung an arm around his shoulders. "My, my. We are getting serious, aren't we?"

"Do you two laze about when you take a break from plotting world domination and whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears?" Fred batted his eyelashes at him as they approached the gated area. Wishing he could enlist the help of security to remove his siblings from his presence at the moment. 

"I wouldn't blame you if you did eventually move in with him," Harry supplied him with an encouraging smile. "I have had his cooking on numerous occasions and almost suggested the two of us be flat mates. That was of course before I moved in with Ginny. Now I only get Oliver's cooking every so often." 

He glanced over at Harry, flashing his VIP pass to the security guard and was waved through, joining the throng of people who were making their way to the center of the pitch. "You could just ask you know. I am sure he wouldn't mind if you popped round for dinner when Ginny is on tour, might even send you home with left overs."

"Just make you sure you knock first, eh Harry. Wouldn't want to get another scare like that again," George elbowed the younger man who had gone rather red in the cheeks but gave a shrug as though he wasn't too concerned with such formalities.

"Did you really just go into the kitchen and start eating that poor man's lasagna?" Angelina quirked a brow at her former seeker, as though she still couldn't quite believe the story she had undoubtedly heard from multiple sources. 

Harry's growing grin was all the confirmation they needed, a resounding chorus of asking the man what he was thinking and offering their congratulations on taking full advantage of the situation. "What?" Harry asked as Bill nudged his shoulder with a loud sigh, probably regretting ever agreeing to come to this match. "He told me to go make myself scarce and I was hungry. Besides, he was supposed to be on a diet for pre-season training so really I was doing him a huge favor."

The quiet bickering faded to white noise as he was met with what he considered one of the most glorious sites he had ever witnessed. 

Oliver's sweaty hair was sticking to his forehead and the nape of his neck, his soft lips chapped and bright pink, and his cheeks were still flushed. Despite looking downright knackered, his eyes were sharp, still glowing with that manic glint he only got when Quidditch was involved. Standing amongst a surge of people all pressing in on each other, the press shouting questions at him while their pens were writing furtively, and eager fans were shoving pieces of parchment and other items for the man to sign. Through it all he managed to keep his victory grin fully intact, while answering various questions and politely interacting with fans. At one point their eyes met and impossibly his grin seemed to broaden upon seeing him standing off to the side.

Having a difficult time understanding why he was unable to keep his eyes off him. Nothing about the man's current appearance would be worth a second glance if he was any other man and yet, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. There was a certain grace about Oliver, even post-match, a muted glow from within. He was part confused and part mesmerized by him.

It was truly unnerving.

His stomach did a sudden, unwanted flip like he was still a teenager who yearned for nothing more than to throw himself into Oliver's arms after Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup. At the time he hadn't been ready to publicly come out as gay and wasn't even sure if Oliver thought about him that way. Even if he had it wouldn't have really mattered, they both had careers to think about and the Wizarding world was not as accepting in the early nineties. He could only imagine what a scandal it would have been for the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and the head boy to share a public kiss in the middle of the pitch. 

Hands were shoving him forward and his siblings were all urging him to go say something to Oliver, he remained firmly rooted in place. No, scratch that. Two sets of hands were grabbing him by the arms and dragging him forward, towards Oliver who was giving him a rather fetching grin. With a shove he stumbled forward, practically running right into Oliver who steadied him a bit before regarding him with a curious expression.

"Hi," he said, hands shaking. Tucking them in the pockets of his robe to hide them.

"Hi," Oliver replied, blinking slowly at him as he coaxed both of his hands out of his pocket before enveloping them in his own. Thumbs rubbing across the back of his hands as they stood there staring at each other. 

His heart hammered in his chest as he stared into those eyes which sparkled underneath the stadium lights, Oliver's head tilted to the side at him as he tried to puzzle through why he was simply standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch with wide eyes and an open mouth while not saying a word. 

Not knowing quite how to tell Oliver that he was feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment, in need of reassurance. That he had spent most of his adult life trying to make himself as small as possible and was essentially afraid of his own shadow before they rekindled their friendship. If fact, he was afraid of a great many things. Small spaces because it felt as if the walls were closing in on him and he could literally feel the oxygen depleting from his body. Conference room 304 B because of the war and the horrendous acts he had witnessed withing the four walls of said room. The fact that the rift between his parents might prove too great for them to ever be able to come together, that he would effectively lose his family for a second time. Despite the small progress, he feared it was all a smoke screen, that at any point everyone would laugh at him and ask how they could ever love someone so pathetic. 

Most of all he was afraid of losing Oliver.

What he wasn't afraid of was the growing warmth in his chest, the fluttering of his heart against his ribcage, the feel of his hands resting in Oliver's, nor the growing comfort of his mere presence. He wasn't terrified of the way he felt when they were sitting together in the evenings and simply chatting, the way Oliver cooked foods he knew he would like, the feeling of their bodies pressed together as they danced beneath the stars and twinkling lights as their heartbeats thrummed a steady rhythm. 

For the first time ever, he didn't feel like running away. 

He was on the edge of something and with each passing moment he inched closer and closer towards something he never before experienced. All he needed was to know if Oliver felt the same. 

"Congratulations," Ginny patted Oliver roughly on the shoulder as she passed by. "Your two weeks starts tomorrow."

Oliver sighed, giving Harry a half smile just shrugged in return. "Thank you and looking forward to it. Being the target of your unhinged rage always adds some much-needed spice to my otherwise average life. Gives poor Harry a bit of a break as well."

"Two weeks?" he asked curiously.

"Your sister has a rule that she must be angry with me for a specified period of time each time my team beats hers. Because they were knocked out of the running for the league cup my punishment is two weeks."

Harry clapped Oliver on the shoulder, leaning against him as he surveyed their tightly clasped hands with a grin of his own. "What's it to you? You will be out of the country for three weeks and won't see us anyways. Unless of course, you are about to shock the world and announce your retirement so you and my future brother-in-law can whisk off to some seaside cottage on the Scottish coast and live forever in domestic bliss."

"It would be a farm," he blurted out, before he could think about what he was saying. They hadn't spoken of him necessarily joining Oliver in his dream of owning a menagerie of farm animals in the north of Scotland. Yet here he was, making plans for their future without consulting the other party. He wished for a hole to appear in the middle of the pitch so he could crawl inside of it and never come out until this entire conversation was forgotten. Either that or obliviate the past two minutes from everyone's memories, he wasn't picky. 

To his surprise Oliver nodded his head at Harry, a growing grin spreading across his face. "A farm complete with an in-home library of course. If I am whisking away your future brother-in-law, I will need somewhere to put the ten thousand books he owns and will inevitably bring with him. Don't foresee my meager bookcases being enough to bear the heavy load of such a brilliant mind."

He stared in shock, not trusting his own ears as to what just came out of Oliver's mouth. Well, he supposed he had his reassurance "I do not own ten thousand books," he countered feebly, knowing that the only reason was simply lack of space to house them.

"If you build it, they will come," Oliver nodded sagely at him, as though he should know exactly what he meant by the mysterious sentence. Receiving only a blank stare in return. "Muggle movie- we will watch it sometime so you can understand the reference."

Liam appeared out of nowhere, slinging his arm around Oliver's shoulder and leaning against the side not occupied by Harry at the moment. "Hate to break up this tender little moment, but you will be needed for additional autographs with the kids and photo opportunities. Not to mention your many interviews with the press."

"Yeah, all right," Oliver muttered, a small sigh escaping his lips as though leaving him to go sign more autographs was the least attractive option. He gave a small laugh, as Oliver's calloused fingers brushed against his cheeks, pressing a kiss or two against his forehead as Harry and Liam groaned. Slinking off while grumbling about how they don't care to witness such displays of affection which were out of character for the normally single-minded captain. 

Oliver's hands remained against his face, a comforting warmth that seemed to radiate throughout him and chase the chill that settled into his bones as he stood in the middle of the pitch. "Now that I have gotten rid of those two- can I kiss you on the lips?"

"You may," he teased as arms wrapped around Oliver's waist to pull him closer to him. Eyes fluttering shut right before chapped lips pressed against his own. Clicks of cameras from nearby registered to his ears and he was certain they had more than a few onlookers. None of that mattered though, he didn't care if the two of them ended up on the front page of every newspaper and magazine in the Wizarding world. 

The bright stars continued to dance in front of his closed eyelids, whether from the cameras or the fact he was seeing fireworks as he continued to kiss Oliver beneath the stadium lights he couldn't say for certain. What he did know was that his stomach swooped in the knowledge that he was exactly where he was meant to be. 

Watching with a small smile as Oliver knelt down on one knee in front of a group of kids, two of which were currently showing him their stuffed Quaffles and babbling to him while their parents stood nearby with fond expressions as Oliver displayed an interest in what they were saying. Nodding his head in the correct places and even following up with a few questions of his own as the group clamored for his attention.  

He turned to find his mum approaching him, nervously biting into his lower lip as he watched her come stand in front of him. Reaching out both hands she firmly grasped his own, giving his fingers a loving squeeze. After a few minutes he gave a small squeeze back, waiting for her to say something. He couldn't help but feel his chest ache with longing for a hug, even though he was nearing his mid-twenties there were times when all he wanted was to be gathered in her warm arms, surrounded by the faint smell of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. 

A feeling he hadn't experienced in over a year. 

His mum gave him a faint smile, her eyes were blurred with tears, and she looked as if she was choking back an emotion which was threatening to overwhelm her. "You look happy."

"I am," he gave a small nod of his head, hands clasping tightly as he focused on breathing evenly. "I'm really happy."

"Good. You deserve to be really happy and to smile again. I'm-" his mum faltered for a minute, no doubt aware of the fact that cameras were nearby and flashing as they took photos of the players. Neither of them wanted to tip the reporters off that something was happening, this was not a conversation either of them cared to make an appearance in tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet. "Pleased that you have finally found someone who can bring that side out of you. You always had such a beautiful smile and I hope that I can see more of it and of Oliver, if he can make it to Sunday dinner."

"Thank you, mum," he said softly, trying to put as much meaning as he possibly could behind the words and knowing that she was doing the same.

His mum gathered him up in a hug all his own. He pressed his face against the layers of soft knitted wool and inhaled the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. Feeling something buried deep within him shatter as she whispered in his ear, "have fun on your date, dear. Oliver seems like a lovely young man."

Standing with his head buried into her shoulder, he hadn't realized how thin the thread holding him together had become. Threatening to snap at any second as he felt hot tears stinging against his eyes and fought against them. His shoulders hitched, breath getting caught in his throat as he focused all of his energy on evening out his heartrate and bringing his breathing back under control. 

It might not have been the apology he necessarily hoped for after how she acted towards him and Oliver, but he thought it might be a step in the right direction. All he needed was for his mum to accept his sexuality and the fact that he was in a relationship with a man. If she still needed time to fully understand, then he would allow her that time.

This was the woman who embraced him in the corridor of St. Mungos without a second thought and cried into his shoulder about how happy she was that her baby had finally come home, and she could know for certain that he was safe at all times. While the years which followed may not have been the joyous reunion either of them pictured, he also knew it wasn't good to hang onto the past. 

People sometimes made mistakes and they deserved forgiveness when they reached out for reconciliation. While the trust may have been broken between them and they might never get back to the way it used to be, it didn't mean that he couldn't still have a great relationship with his mum and dad. That was a concept he was familiar with in theory but still eluded him when put into practice. 

His mum took his face in her hands, pride shining through her eyes. A look he had not seen directed at him in many years. "I love you."

"I love you too, mum," he said in a raspy voice, surprising himself by how much he truly meant it. Both of them standing there with small smiles as they tried not to break down into tears in the middle of the Quidditch pitch with half of Britain to witness their little reunion of sorts. 

Smiling warmly at him, his mum glanced over to where his dad stood chatting incessantly to a witch and wizard who looked very out of place and just a bit frightened. "I should go round up your father," she sighed. "He found out the parents of that new player on Oliver's team were muggles and decided to try and make some new friends. He can be a bit intense when he gets excited."

He nodded his head, offering a small smile of his own. "Sounds good. I will see you and dad tomorrow night for Sunday dinner."

For the first time ever, he was not dreading Sunday dinner, the anxious pit in his stomach had disappeared and he felt as if he could finally breath once more. 

Perhaps the rift between his parents and himself was not quite as wide as he once believed. Still mendable if they were all willing to put in the time and effort required to fix their broken relationship. 

Oliver was hovering nearby, shifting from foot to foot carefully as he witnessed the hug without being able to hear exactly what was said between them. Inching his way closer as though he wasn't quite sure he would be welcome at the moment.

His mouth twitched upwards, holding out a hand in silent invitation for the man to join him once again. 

His date gave him an encouraging, but somewhat confused smile as he warily watched Molly Weasley walk away with tears in her eyes that she was dabbing at with her husband's handkerchief. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah," he felt a grin spreading across his face as he watched his parents walking arm in arm out of the stadium. His mum's head leaned against his dad's shoulder, while his dad placed a tender kiss on top of her hair pulled into her signature messy bun. "I think everything is going to be ok."

Bright brown eyes lingered on him for a moment, watching his face carefully. Oliver slowly nodded his head. "Good. I have something for you," Oliver pressed something into his palm which fluttered against his fingers, looking down he saw a golden snitch. "The newly appointed captain always gets to keep the snitch of the first match they win. It's charmed to not fly off anymore, so you can't lose it. I want you to have it."

"I can't accept this," he weakly protested, holding the snitch tightly against his heart and hoping that Oliver would simply ignore him and insist he keep it. The movement reminded him of a steady heartbeat he was now intimately familiar with and would soon be without for three long weeks.

Thankfully Oliver seemed to be in an obliging mood because he shook his head, indicating with his hands that he should keep the snitch. "When we win the championship in a few months I will also get to keep that snitch. We won last year, so Avery already has a championship snitch."

"Awful confident aren't we?" he teased as Oliver's arms wrapped around his waist. 

"Of course," Oliver shrugged as if there was no doubt in his mind that his Quidditch team would take home the cup for the second year in a row. "I have something the other team doesn't... a new good luck charm and a very effective one at that."

He should have known this would happen. The moment he looked at Oliver and those sad little eyes of his and asked him if he wanted him to come to his match, he had been effectively agreeing to be at nearly every single game for the rest of his life. He didn't mind though, not really. He just couldn't let Oliver know this or he would be nagged into making trips to see him play when he was on tour as well. "Merlin's beard! Does this mean you are going to drag me to every single one of your matches like you did at Hogwarts?"

"Only the ones which matter," Oliver used a soothing voice, giving him his very best grin. The one which always made him melt and do practically anything he asked of him. This time was no exception. 

"So-" he sighed heavily, resigning himself to his fate. "All of them?"

Oliver faltered for a minute, trying to think of a way to dig himself out of the corner he was backed into. "Well- yeah... it is Quidditch after all," the man conceded, giving him a pleading look. "But it won't be that bad. I mean- you will have a nice warm box to view the game in, cushy leather seats, and an all you can eat buffet. I won't even care if you bring a book or some super important Ministry reports to work on. I just need your cute little butt in the seat for the good luck to rub off."

"Couldn't the good luck rub off from my couch?" he groaned, still holding the snitch against his heart as the fluttering of the wings kept time with his own heartbeat. 

"You can bring your couch to the matches if you want," Oliver grinned at him, wrinkling his nose at the exasperated look he received. "Won't bother me one bit."

His reply was cut off with a kiss, chaste, nothing too obscene since there were most definitely cameras on them. Not that he was aware of anything at the moment, once Oliver's lips touched his then the world became nothing but white noise. Normally they would have deepened the kiss, their hands coming to rest in each other's hair. Following the heated snogging session up with nuzzling their noses together. As it were Oliver pulled away after a minute or so, a small smile on his face and a longing look in his eyes. 

"Take care of that, eh," Oliver called to him, pointing to the winning snitch pressed against his chest with one finger as he backed away towards his waiting teammates who were all gesturing at him to hurry it up. "It's a bit fragile."

He had flashes of the cozy nights they spent together over the past month or so, the many slow dances they shared pressed against each other, inside jokes and sweet moments where he felt closer to Oliver than anybody else in his life. Knowing that Oliver had wanted him here today, was not afraid or embarrassed to be seen with him in public and had no qualms about sharing a kiss with hundreds of onlookers. The way Oliver had willingly made room for him in his life, without having to be asked and always made him feel welcome and wanted. Made him feel as though he was often the only thing which mattered in his life and would drop everything if he were in need, content to just sit with him until he felt better. 

The familiar warmth filled his chest, spreading through his body and pulling the corners of his mouth into a wide smile.  

Pointing one finger back at Oliver as he slowly backed away towards where he last saw his siblings standing, he gave him a fond smile. "It's safe with me."

Realizing with a start that he had long ago given Oliver his whole heart, without every really meaning to or realizing it. Now, Oliver had given him his.

He had vowed to take good care of it, and he never broke a promise. 

Chapter Text

"You know you take all of my stress right down. Help me get it off my chest and out into the ether with the rest of this mess that just keeps us depressed. We forget that we're here right now. 'Cause we're living life at a different pace, stuck in a constant race. Keep the pressure on, you're bound to break, somethings got to change. We should just be cancelling all our plans, and not give a damn if we're missing out on what the people think is right. Seeing through a picture behind the screen and forget to be. Lose the conversation for the message that you'll never read. I think maybe you and me; oh, we should head out to the place where the music plays. All my troubles turn to nothing when I'm in your eyes. Electrified, we'll keep turning up and go all night. Oh, we had dips and falls in our time, but we know what it feels to be low then up, alone and loved. And all we need is us to go all night." Ed Sheeran- Two Step

While waiting for Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies to finish up their interviews and grab a quick shower, the Weasleys and co. offered to secure a couple of seats at a local pub.   

They ended up at one of the less crowded establishments on the main street, located in an old stone building with ivy growing along the outside of it and a weathered wooden sign hanging above the door. The quaint muggle village reminded him of the shops in Hogsmeade where he spent many a pleasant weekend strolling along with Oliver and whoever else wanted to join them.

Inside the pub was even more picturesque, there were oil paintings interspersed amongst other pieces of art hanging on the walls. They chose two leather booths right next to each other in the farthest corner of the pub, hopefully far enough away from the muggles as there was no way talk of Quidditch would not ebb its way into conversation. 

If he had to guess, he would assume the people who worked here and the regulars, were used to people who dressed a little funny and probably tried to pay with odd coins stopping in every other week or so. They would likely think nothing of their little group, but best to err on the side of caution. 

"Let me see your snitch," Fred demanded, leaning casually against the edge of one of the tables while holding out his hand expectantly. 

"No," he put his hand over the enchanted pocket of his jeans to check that his snitch was still safely secured. "Oliver gave it to me. He entrusted me with keeping it safe."

George glanced at his twin, the two of them exchanging a mischievous grin which did nothing to soothe his already frazzled nerves. "Come on Perce! We just want to hold the game winning snitch for a second." 

"No!" he removed the snitch from his pocket to hold it tightly against his heart again, not trusting the twins to respect his refusal to let them touch his prized possession. Having learned early on in his childhood that whenever the two of them wanted to get ahold of something of his it almost never ended well. "It's very fragile, and I don't trust you not to do something to it. You two always break my things or steal them and alter them to prank me in some way." 

Fred studied him carefully before he opened his mouth to reply. "We don't always-"

"Yes, you do! You and George were always stealing my things when we were kids. You would take my books and charm them to scream at me in the middle of the night, my toys would suddenly transform into things you knew would scare me, my prefect and head boy badges were always displaying crude words that only Oliver was kind enough to tell me about and help me fix, itching powder in my clothes, my school uniforms and textbooks would mysteriously disappear then I would find them in odd places around the castle, and you would always- always break things which were important to me. Neither of you are allowed to come within five meters of this snitch."

Fred and George both took a step or two forward, causing him to move backwards until he was met with the hard surface of the wall. While the twins did look just a little bit remorseful, he didn't trust it to be genuine. Probably just a way to lure him into a false sense of security so they could carry out whatever prank they had planned for him. "We were just having a bit of fun with you," George said softly. 

Nodding his head in agreement, Fred eased forward just a smidge. "We pranked everybody. It was all in good fun." 

"It wasn't fun for me," he muttered, staring at the floor while refusing to make eye contact as his complexion gave away his embarrassment and unease at the situation.

No one spoke for several seconds after his admission, the silence hanging heavy over their small group. Feeling a firm hand on his shoulder he looked up to be met with Bill hovering protectively next to him. "Leave Percy alone!" his eldest brother snapped, causing the twins to look mollified as they immediately dropped whatever counterattack they were planning. "He doesn't want you to touch his snitch. If you want to see a game winning snitch so badly ask our sister, Angelina, or Oliver. All three have quite a few from their careers. Maybe one of them will appease you two."

For once neither Fred nor George had a single thing to say, faces turning crimson in embarrassment, mouths opening and closing as words continued to escape them. They might have eventually tried to say something if not for the furious expression on Angelina's face as she took over the role of glowering at the two of them, effectively putting an end to their attempted reign of terror. He fought back a smile, glancing at Bill’s face before looking back to the twins with smug satisfaction.  

Harry gave a small cough, glancing around at everyone as he tugged on the collar of his shirt. "By the way Perce, your boyfriend agonized over giving you that snitch."

"Really?" he asked, depositing the snitch back into his jeans pocket now that he was certain it wouldn't mysteriously disappear at some point tonight. Making a mental note to take a trip to Diagon Alley in the next few days to find a display case for it. 

"Yeah," Harry smiled at him bemusedly. "Came over around dinnertime one evening after his practice for a 'quick chat' as he called it. Ended up sitting on my sofa for over two hours after nagging me to order take-away and trying to riddle through questions like, how should he present you with the snitch? When should he give it to you? What should he say? Would you even want the snitch? What happens if he gave it to you and then you told him you were no longer interested in him? Ginny came in at the end and was cackling the entire time while listening to the man basically just talk himself in circles with very minimal input from either of us. Stayed so long that he had to walk home so he wouldn't miss your phone call together which, of course, he was teased mercilessly for."

He hummed in response, nodding his head as the others grinned at him. Taking in Harry's explanation of the mysterious dinner he alluded to earlier, thankful he hadn't demanded some sort of explanation from the man and potentially ruined his wonderful surprise. The fact that this was a thought-out action on Oliver's part, and one he had apparently agonized over and brought about a wave of anxiety, was rather endearing to him. Helped him feel as though he wasn't the only one who was experiencing a bit of awkwardness and unsure of what the correct next move would be in this unique situation of theirs. One where it seemed as if all rules for a normal relationship had been thrown out the window, making it difficult to know where exactly they stood at any given moment. "Well," he sighed contently. "You can officially report to Oliver that I loved the gesture, and I am very much still interested."

"Tell him yourself," Harry said, nodding towards the front door where he could see the Puddlemere team and most of the Harpies having a quick chat on the sidewalk. Without another word Harry turned and marched himself to the front of the pub, everyone else shrugged and followed suite. 

When Oliver walked through the main doorway with his teammates in tow, they were greeted with a smattering of applause from their group, each still wearing a grin as they rode the euphoria of winning the match and advancing to the semi-finals. Just as he opened his mouth to say hello, Oliver stepped closer and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Hey."

"Hello," he replied, suddenly feeling a little shy in front of the others and biting his bottom lip. Pleased with this new addition to their usual greeting of each other, signifying a definite shift in their relationship. "Congratulations- again. Knew you could do it."

"Of course," Oliver smirked at him, pressing a hand against the small of his back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "My good luck charm was there today. The Harpies never stood a chance."

Ginny rolled her eyes from where she was standing off to the side with Harry. "Traitor. Could have done the polite thing and shared some of that luck you suddenly possess with my team."

If it hadn't been for the laugh the two of them shared, he might have taken her seriously. Grinning at his sister who was leaned up against her fiance, letting his hands roam over her shoulders as they massaged out the knots from the Quidditch match. "Sorry, little gremlin. Good luck charms don't work like that." 

"Starts dating Oliver and suddenly he not only starts showing up to Quidditch matches possessing some sort of mystical power which he never disclosed before, but now he is being all sassy," Ginny mumbled, tilting her head up where it rested against Harry's chest and receiving a kiss on the forehead. Huffing out a sigh as though some of her fun had been spoiled by his rebuttal and refusal to launch into a lengthy lecture. "It's like I don't even know my own brother anymore."

He became uncomfortably aware of the Quidditch players who completely encircled them, remembering the whole superstitious issue which often caused them to do odd things in hopes of increasing their chances of a win. One of the biggest fights he and Oliver ever had was over the smelly pair of socks Oliver insisted on wearing for his matches during most of second and all of third year, refusing to wash them despite his incessant pleas. Every time his roommate would pull them out, he would feel himself gag from the noxious odor coming off of them in waves, several hours shoved into sweaty trainers and then promptly buried in a dark, damp trunk did nothing to make being downwind of them bearable. The two of them would find themselves engaged in screaming matches over the issue, that particular fight ending with neither of them speaking to each other for the week leading up to the final match of the Quidditch cup. Oliver finally put the socks into the laundry basket the day before the big match just to get the two of them to be on speaking terms again. 

A display of Oliver's faith in his best mate's claims that washing the socks would not wash away the luck as well were true, that they did absolutely nothing to help the boy on the pitch and certainly had nothing to do with Gryffindor's impressive streak of consecutive wins. 

Unfortunately, Gryffindor lost the finals to Slytherin that year and Oliver, plus the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, proceeded to mourn the tragic loss of the lucky (now thankfully clean) socks. He had been given the cold shoulder by all parties for a full three days, only to be broken by him publicly acknowledging at the breakfast table that the socks were key to Gryffindor's success and promising to never interfere with such an important good luck charm ever again. He and Oliver compromised by spending a few hours in the library during one of their free periods looking up a spell which would neutralize the repugnant odor coming off those cursed socks, the same ones he proceeded to wear several times a year for the next four years. 

Quickly becoming the bane of his existence, the reason his eye twitched and the vein in his forehead pulsed the morning of a match when Oliver would whip out the discolored socks and pull them onto his feet as though it was not the most unhygienic thing to ever exist in the universe. 

Now his worst fear was confirmed, he was officially a replacement for the socks. Judging by the way Tamas and Liam reverently were placing one of their hands on top of his head the Puddlemere team were also buying into the belief. They were followed by Emilia and Avery clapping one hand each on his shoulders, Archie's hand found a spot on his upper back, and Oliver's hand remained firmly attached to his lower back while occasionally slipping around to trace his hip bone. The only one who wasn't currently joining in was Simone, standing off to the side with her arms crossed across her chest while her teammates stared at her expectantly. 

"Fine," she huffed out, reluctantly walking over to them. "I don't want to hurt our potential chances of winning the championship again."

Oliver nodded his head as she stuck out her hand. "Gently please. You promised to be nice, and I don't want our new key to dominating the Quidditch pitch to be injured."

While Simone did roll her eyes at the reasonable request, when her hand found placement on his back in-between his shoulder blades it was not the resounding slap he had been expecting. However, this did leave him standing in the middle of a pub with seven people touching him in various places as they all murmured in low voices about what a wonderful good luck charm he was. No wonder the muggles thought witches and wizards were all a bit barmy, based on this particular scene they had a valid point. The Puddlemere United players had gone off their rockers, the Holyhead Harpies weren't far behind them based on the way they were eyeing the others standing around, no doubt looking for their own good luck charm for next year. 

"You have been anointed," Oliver confirmed as his teammates nodded along in agreement, even Simone who rolled her eyes once more eventually gave a single solemn nod. "You shall be physically present at the semi-finals and the finals. You will need to be in the captain's box and preferably try and find the same general seat as you were in today."

Oh yes, it was exactly as he feared. He was now a physical embodiment of those wretched socks and had been strong armed into attending the rest of the games for Puddlemere's season. That man had become quite conniving in his old age. 

"May you bring only Puddlemere the luck which we require to crush the competition," Liam closed his eyes and lifted his head towards the ceiling. 

Tamas raised a brow at his now permanent scowl. "You are one of us now."

"One of us," the Puddlemere United Quidditch team echoed in unison. 

Not a single one of his siblings or their significant others stepped in to help him with this situation. Simply left him standing with his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face as ridiculously superstitious Quidditch players seemed to dub him some sort of mystical being. He didn't even particularly like Quidditch for Merlin's sake, simply tolerated its existence and that was strictly for the tactical maneuvers (only a little bit because he got to see Oliver sitting on a broom and ogle him). 

Harry and Ginny looked stupidly smug with their matching smirks, Fred and George pretended to dab at their eyes, Angelina had a look of jealousy considering that her team was also going to be playing for a spot in the semi-finals next week, Fleur beamed and nodded encouragingly while Bill had the gall to throw him a thumbs up. Ron looked mildly amused and curious, having been an avid lifelong Chudley Cannons fan he had long since given up on good luck charms when it came to Quidditch, going on pure faith and hope alone. Johan gave a resigned sigh, doing his best to appear as if he wasn't resisting the urge to call bullocks on the entire thing. 

Tara snickered, coming over to wrap her arm around Emilia's waist. "Come on babe. Let's start the celebration of your win. I saw they have a raspberry bourbon smash that I am dying to try."

Emilia's eyes glinted with mischief as she smiled up at him. "Yes, cocktail time. Plus, I believe that Percy owes a certain hunky captain a congratulatory smooch," he winced as she winked at him, no one seemed to have the common courtesy to pity him at this moment. Oliver even had the audacity to look rather proud of himself, practically preening as he placed a peck on his cheek, giving him his best grin as though that would somehow make amends for being touted as a good luck charm. It did- but he wasn't going to let him know that. "Saw a broom cupboard on our way over here. Perhaps the two of you could sneak away for a bit of alone time."

The titers of laughter were like nails on a chalkboard to his ears, setting his teeth on edge. Oliver had better be glad that he happened to find the man incredibly attractive and a delight to be around, otherwise he wouldn't put up with such abuse. "I'll get you a beer," he promised, turning to walk away with what bit of grace and dignity he could manage to muster. Finding his exit was stopped by fingers gently gripping his wrist. 

"Forgot something," Oliver pulled him gently towards him, before he could get a chance to ask what exactly he could have been forgetting he found lips pressed against his own, tasting faintly of cherries which he found a bit odd. 

"Yes, well-" he managed to rasp out when the kiss ended, taking a few minutes to bring his breathing under control and stop his head from spinning. "I um- I should- I'll just go get you that beer you wanted."

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, aware of the multiple pairs of eyes watching him as he prepared to stagger off towards the bar. If he happened to spot that broom cupboard Tara mentioned, well, who was he to not take note of its precise location? 

Just in case. 

“I see you’ve started without me,” he gave Oliver what he knew was a fond look as he watched the man digging into the chips and sauce already on the table. Placing two pints of Guinness in front of them then sliding into the booth next to the man. 

"I'm a growing boy," Oliver eyed him warily, making a point to ensure he saw him stuff several chips into his mouth at once, chewing in an exaggerated fashion just because he knew how to really get under his skin.

He took a tentative sip of the stout beer, smacking his lips with a nod. While he normally preferred lighter beers, given the cold and rainy weather he thought he might opt for something a bit stronger. "I assure you that you are long past the point where you are going to be able to gain those three inches you would need to surpass me in height. The only way you are going to be growing is side to side."

"Hey!" Oliver squealed as he poked the man in the ribs to prove his point, causing him to scoot towards Simone who just rolled her eyes at their antics and offered her best mate no protection. "I will have you know that I am a highly trained athlete. As a result, I have a higher-than-average caloric need."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the two of them over the top of his freshly topped off glass, bringing it to his lips with a slow sip before leaning forward. "Was 'how to squeal like a first year who is scared of falling into the Black Lake' covered in that training you supposedly excelled at?" 

Oliver waved away this question with a flick of his wrist, scooting back towards him with a sideways glance. Ensuring one hand was protecting the side of his abdomen from any more unprovoked attacks. "Shut it, Potter. I won't let you and that mean redheaded witch you insist upon marrying watch my precious Niffler if you continue to make fun of me."

"Don't know why she has to stay with them anyways," he rolled his eyes and muttered darkly, having already decided he would be avoiding Harry and Ginny's house for the next three weeks while they had that slinky black and white creature living with them. He didn't trust this elusive Niffler quite yet, remembering how the little devil swished her tail at him whenever he would visit Oliver. While it might sound a bit crazy, he just knew she was plotting something against him. "She's a cat. Just throw down some extra food and water and have them check in on her every once in a while."

Oliver shot him a truly scandalized look at his suggestion, sitting back in the booth and crossing his arms across his chest in a pout. "She's a living, breathing cat; not a houseplant. I can't just leave her with minimal supervision for three weeks in that big house and hope for the best. What if she gets hurt? What if a thunderstorm pops up and she's scared?"

"Then she will take shelter under your bed," he assured the man with a pat on his thigh. "She's a cat, that's what she does."

"So," one of Ginny's teammates interrupted their quiet bickering, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. "How exactly did this happen?"

"We were friends and roommates at Hogwarts. Lost touch for a few years during the war and started dating about four months ago," he supplied simply, cutting off Oliver who opened his mouth to give what he was certain would be a long-winded reply. 

Ginny and her teammate shared an eye roll, engaging in some sort of unspoken conversation which consisted of mouth twitches and eyebrow raises, finally turning around to face him again. "Riveting explanation, really excellent use of the intricate details. Oliver, do you have anything to add?" 

Oliver wasted no time launching into his more elaborate version of the fabricated events they previously agreed upon, hands gesturing widely around causing both him and Simone to hurriedly grab glasses out of the way lest they have a catastrophe. "We met for the first time on the Hogwarts Express when we were but scrawny first years. I asked him if I could sit with him, impressing him with my extensive knowledge of Quidditch. Being the only two boys sorted into Gryffindor that year we became fast friends, spending seven years at each other's sides. Percy became a prefect and head boy, always at the top of our class and dragged his reluctant best mate along behind him. All I was focused on was making Quidditch captain and achieving a professional career in Quidditch, the man had to practically force me to even sit for the NEWT exams. During the war we sadly lost touch, our careers took us on different paths, and we just- grew apart. We officially met again at the Battle of Hogwarts and spoke a few times off and on since that time point. Our story really begins on a frigid and dark winter's evening at the end of January when both Percy and I found ourselves sad and alone as we both wandered into a Thai restaurant in the north of London, each wanting to grab our takeaway and get on with our night. Unaware that our lives were about to be forever changed-"   

Merlin's beard! The flashbacks to the first evening they spent together following his drunken appearance on the man's doorstep and their hesitant reconciliation were going to cause him nightmares. Generally, he rather enjoyed Oliver's natural exuberance for life and tendency to overexaggerate every little thing. However, it was also going to end up being what brought this whole charade crashing to the ground, he was certain of it.

He couldn't help but notice quite a few embellishments has been added since the last time he heard this story. Wasn't really sure which option was worse. The one where Oliver rehearsed their 'how we met' story when he was alone in the evenings, slowly adding in little details, or the possibility this was all being done on the fly. That Oliver was actually capable of coming up with a rather intricate tale at the drop of a hat, one which pulled in an audience. As evidenced by the way all of his siblings and even Oliver's teammates were hanging onto every word, mouths open in awe as the man recounted every fictional detail. 

"Our eyes locked across the crowded restaurant and when I first saw those gorgeous blue eyes the noise of the other patrons died away and it felt as if my breath had been knocked from my body. At first, we both pretended as though we hadn't seen each other, but I just couldn't get him out of my head. As the minutes dragged on, we found ourselves staring more and more often until finally we both gave a tentative smile and a small wave. I made the first move by coming over to break the silence between us," Oliver paused to turn and grin at him, receiving nothing but a narrow-eyed glare in return. "We got to catching up on our lives during the years since we had grown apart and by the time our food was ready, we agreed to find a bench at one of the local parks and continue our chat. It was as if no time had passed since we last spoke five years ago and by the end of the evening, I had won over Percy with my dazzling smile, we agreed to grab dinner later that week. Imagine my surprise when this thoughtful man shows up on my doorstep with the biggest bouquet of my favorite flowers and declares that instead of a dinner to catch up as old friends, he is sweeping me off my feet for a romantic evening-" 

"Why me?" he moaned, elbows on the table with his hands resting on either temple. Trying desperately to massage away his impending migraine. He was simultaneously exasperated by this man's presence in his life and completely enamored by him. It was exhausting.

"Shh!" Ginny chided him with one finger placed over her lips for emphasis. "Oliver is telling us all a fantastic story about how my uptight older brother managed to woo a famous Quidditch player into dating him. We are about to find out how the first date went." 

He cursed the influence Fred and George had on his little sister growing up. Sure, she turned out to be a strong and independent woman. Not only achieving the feat of surviving possession by Lord Voldemort at a mere eleven years old but also took an active role in training her fellow students to fight against the death eaters and created a sort of underground support network when Hogwarts was taken over during her sixth year. That was all well and good, but Merlin was she annoying. 

"It was utterly magical. Percy planned the whole thing. Treated me to dinner at a very nice restaurant, bottle of red wine to split between us and a table lit by the flicker of candlelight. During our entree I tried to reach for his hand, but ultimately chickened out. Kicking myself until our dessert came, a warm fudge brownie with a few scoops of vanilla ice cream to share. Finally working up enough courage to try again and our fingers grazed across the table, slowly interlacing with each other. Been holding my hand ever since. He once told me that the way I made him feel that evening was akin to a Crème Brulee torch. Slow burning passion that just sizzles-"

"I said no such thing!" he interjected with eyes nearly bulging out of his head, not only was that statement something he would never say unprompted it was an utterly ridiculous analogy. Not that anyone at the table seemed to notice. His interruption was followed by a chorus of loud boos from the people sitting around the table. All urging Oliver to finish his story which he did with a satisfied smirk. 

"That's pretty much it. After that we just kept going on dates with each other and talking nearly every single day, basically inseparable when we both had a free moment. Our first kiss was the following evening when we took a stroll along the Thames in the moonlight. I wanted to take a ride on the London Eye and Percy agreed to accompany me, waited until we got to the top and then made my move. Figured it was my turn to sweep him off his feet and enjoy romantic gestures. Since I am a famous Quidditch player we kept it on the down low for the customary three months before going public for one of Percy's work functions where his boss announced his retirement. Percy was a bit worried about his career at first, considering that he is up for the position of Minister of Transportation. You know the Ministry likes for people to prove they are 'family oriented' but that gets a bit tricky when the partner is not of the opposite sex. We agreed it was silly to keep us a secret any longer though. It's been four months of nothing but pure bliss, and he's been my ickle schnookums since day one."

"I'm not your schnookums," he grumbled, his mood souring even more when the man had the audacity to give him a peck on the cheek and another one of his fetching grins. 

Oliver remained undeterred; the grin still plastered across his face as though this was all great fun for him. "Don't be like that, boo boo bear. There will be no 'Mr. Grumpy Gills' present tonight."

"Boo boo bear!" the twins chorused together, both looking as if Christmas had indeed come early with the introduction to this little nickname which was a surprise to even him. 

Ginny's teammate winked at him. "I have to say, I much prefer Oliver's account of the events leading up to this little moment. I had no idea the captain of Puddlemere United was able to weave such an intricate accounting of your how you met story."

"Yes," he sighed deeply, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he sat upright in the booth. "He does have quite a knack for storytelling."

Simone surprised everyone when she held up her glass of white wine in toast towards him, the ghost of a smile on her face. "Finally! Something we can agree upon. I would dare to venture adding in the phrase 'inclined towards the dramatics' in addition to having a knack for telling stories."

Oliver flashed her a grateful smile, holding up his own practically untouched beer as the three of them clinked their glasses together. Toasting not only Oliver's ability to come up with a rather convincing tale but also a truce of sorts. 

Things got progressively rowdier, and just a bit blurrier, as talk soon turned towards Quidditch almost everyone engaging in what was apparently a game amongst the professional players to see who was the most well-traveled and who sported the best stats for the season. Oliver reached for his hand under the table, tangling their fingers together as they rested on top of his thigh. Going through the rather arduous process of eating the rest of the chips and drinking their beers one-handed.

He always had a bit of a thing for hands. Oliver's were rougher than any of the other men he had brief physical relationships with. Gentle yet strong and supportive. Comforting in their warm familiarity from years of friendship, a touch which could always make him feel safe and soothed him in times of stress. 

Glancing out the window he was surprised to find the muted pinks, purples, and blues of the sunset streaked across the horizon were fading as the darkness slowly creeped in and the rain began to dissipate. Choosing to keep his eyes fixed on the window while he sorted a few things out internally, feeling the weight of Oliver’s gaze on his face but not saying anything. The only indication his date noticed anything amiss was the slight pressure as Oliver gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, keeping up the flow of conversation easily as he and his teammates discussed their plans while they were in Germany for the next three weeks. Telling Archie about all of the restaurants and clubs they would introduce him to as well as recounting some of their more hilarious and sordid adventures from the past few times they visited. 

Tamas and Liam were recounting a particular incident from the last time they were in Berlin. Where they started the evening off with a few hours of playing a drinking game as a team, after receiving explicit instructions by their captain not to get plastered since practice was at 5am, then convinced Oliver and Avery that it would be a fantastic idea to sneak out of one of the hotel room windows and go clubbing with them. A little after one in the morning the two of them abandoned their teammates without a single word for the prospect of hooking up with two girls, leaving them stranded at a nightclub in an unfamiliar city without a cell phone or wands nor any idea where they might have run off to. Culminating in a frantic city-wide search for the two of them spearheaded by a still very drunk Oliver and Avery, along with roping in a highly annoyed Simone in the wee hours of the morning. Finally locating the two of them in some random person's flat and then having to race to the Quidditch pitch, which was located well outside the city limits. They did finally arrive, but very late and disheveled to find their captain standing with his arms crossed and a look of displeasure on his face to see most of his teammates still under the influence of alcohol and therefore unable to fly. The fact that they were also covered in glitter didn't help the situation either. 

Oliver grumbled about how unfair it was for their former captain to force him to run laps around the pitch in such a sorry state, causing the entire table to burst out in loud laughter and engage in gentle ribbing at the thought of Oliver Wood being late for a Quidditch practice. It was practically blasphemy. 

He was really going to miss that man. 

That pesky thought had been cropping up at an alarming rate with each tick of the minute hand on the clock, counting down what little time the two of them had left together. Finding he really didn't want Oliver to leave him and fly off to Germany where he would be spending three full weeks in glamorous hotels, eating at fancy restaurants, and getting to see the sites sprinkled between the numerous practices and matches. 

While there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this phenomenon, it was a truth he wasn't quite ready to face. At least not yet, having desperately tried to riddle through it all week to no avail. 

Every time he sat down at his kitchen table to put what he felt into something resembling coherent conversation he found that all he could come up with was one single sentence. All I want is you. 

Anything else felt useless, the extra words just white noise which took away from the sentiment that Oliver was now his main priority in life. Yet, the five words also seemed too small somehow. Not quite enough to express the depths of what he felt for the person sitting next to him.

Far surpassing anything he ever experienced before and leaving him with a sense of dread he couldn't seem to shake. Things were going well between them. Perhaps a little too well, his brain had reminded him periodically as though there were some sort of timer for his self-depreciating thoughts to creep into normal conversation. Having been able to come up with several rather detailed ways he could end up self-sabotaging and ruin everything. That one sentence though- the silent reminder which kept popping up at odd times and temporarily chasing away the doubts and fears paralyzing him with indecision.

All I want is you.

And he meant it, with every fiber of his being. 

"So, the two of you haven't had to experience the long-distance thing yet?" Fleur commented with a sympathetic look when they both shook their heads in confirmation. Turning to Bill she gave a small smile, a hazy quality to her eyes as she stared at her husband. "Do you remember our first year, my love? We had to deal with both of us being called away for work and I would take extended trips to see my family in France."

Bill nodded his head in confirmation, placing an arm around her waist and giving a sappy sort of smile as he stared down at her belly then looked up to meet their gaze. "It was tough, but it isn't forever. The time slowly crawls to almost an infuriating stop while simultaneously flying by without you realizing how it is already time to be reunited. I found that the time apart made us stronger, forced us to get to know each other on a much deeper level to keep all of that initial physical attraction alive when we couldn't be face to face."

He looked into Bill’s earnest face and contemplated his heartfelt advice. When no one was around he would take some time to thank him, his other siblings would probably have told him to suck it up, that it was only three weeks and it wasn't like he couldn't just pop on over to Germany if he truly got that lonely. As Fred and George were apt to point out, he did work for the department of transportation and therefore had access to portkeys, and a broomstick if he was acting in a fit of desperation. 

While he knew it wasn't going to be forever, the nonrational side of him saw this time apart as insurmountable. Inviting his propensity for self-sabotage to come in and wreck havoc on his life.

Ginny's friend and teammate, Andrea, gave him a teasing grin as though they had known each other for years. "What are you going to do with all your free time while your boyfriend is away?"

Be utterly miserable. Become one of those cliches of the person on those old muggle movies that Penny makes me watch where they lay around all day pining over someone just because they can't see them every single day. 

The knowledge that tomorrow morning he will wake up and not have the ability to pop by Oliver's flat after work to hang out or kiss those lips was almost more than he could handle. When he thought up this plan, he hadn't considered in a fairly short amount of time he would have grown so close again with Oliver the mere idea of him not being here anymore would cause a knot to become lodged uncomfortably in his throat.

"Percy's going to enjoy the peace and quiet," Oliver assured her, stepping in for his date who was staring straight ahead as though he had been hexed. While grateful for the assistance it was a statement with which he disagreed wholeheartedly. "I can be a bit chatty at times. We both have muggle cell phones though, so- he won't get to enjoy a full break from my voice. Give us a chance to get to know each other on a deeper level and keep that passion and physical attraction alive." 

He couldn't help but chuckle warmly at Bill's face turning a bright red when Oliver winked at him from across the table following that last statement. From the expression on his eldest brother's scrunched up face the poor man was regretting ever saying anything. He mentally added in an apology for Oliver's antics in addition to his impending thank you speech. 

"You, my former Quidditch captain who used to wake me up at the crack of dawn to unveil new plays and talk endlessly about the Quidditch theories behind the reasoning for the moving dots, considered a bit chatty?" George scoffed, nodding his head in gratitude at Harry who placed another round of drinks in front of them all. "Surely not."

Oliver huffed and rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face gave away that he wasn't actually upset at George's comment. "It's a shock, I know. I don't see why you insist upon bringing it up at every possible opportunity. You knew in advance what time my practices were scheduled, it is not my fault if you and your twin continuously chose to not get up and forced me to ensure you were bright eyed and bushy tailed."

"At least he and his twin never showed up covered in multi-colored glitter," Fred pointed out with a sly grin.

"Or drunk," Angelina chimed in.

"Or late," George threw in his own contribution.

"Or heaved the contents of your stomach onto the Quidditch pitch," Harry added in a previously omitted portion of the story, raising his glass towards Oliver who just stared at him in betrayal. 

Avery raised her glass as well. "He also had a bit of a weak stomach outside the pitch as well. Blamed it on the fact we had just apparated after chugging sober-up potions. I had no such problem and Tamas and Liam were in need of several potions to fix the mess they got themselves into."

Oliver sunk back against the booth, looking rather sulky and just a bit defeated as his old teammates ganged up on him and his current teammates did not come to rescue and defend his reputation as a Quidditch obsessed maniac. "That was one time and you know I have a sensitive stomach!"

"Technically you have heaved all over the pitch twice," Liam provided with an unhelpful shrug of his shoulders. "Though, I suppose the second time can't really be held against you-"

Simone gave a small noise of agreement, reaching over to pat Oliver on the head. "I would certainly hope not. There is a big difference between being a complete idiot and acquiring a concussion. However, I will point out that I told you to get your head seen about by the Medi staff, but you insisted it was fine since the hit didn't knock you out. You only have yourself to blame."

"I blame Flint," Tamas jumped in to try and help his friend. "That git is the one who threw the Quaffle at the back of his head during the game. Hoping we get to return the favor in the next month or so."

"Even if Flint does manage to get a good shot at Oliver's bludger addled head, I am sure that Percy will give him a little kiss to make the boo boo better," Fred winked at them, obviously pleased with his little dig at the two of them based on the way he and George were elbowing each other as though they were still tousling children.

Ginny was no better, elbowing Harry repeatedly in the side with a grin until he finally paid her some attention. "I don't know if Percy could manage such a feat. My fiance informed me that a wager of sorts was put in place between my brother and his boyfriend. Based on what I have seen of their snogging so far tonight, I don't believe any of the public displays of affection count towards the victory snog that Ollie was promised."

He let out a low groan and felt exasperated and embarrassed at his siblings' overt interest in both his and Oliver's love lives. Unsure if he should be thankful for their acceptance of him and their faith in his relationship or annoyed by their constant meddling. 

Oliver glanced over at him, raising his eyebrows in a silent question as a sly grin spread across his face. He could guess what he was thinking, if that man thought he was the only one capable of making the first move, then he had another thing coming. Closing what little distance was between them, he cupped his face and captured his lips in a fierce kiss. Their lips moved against each other in a familiar rhythm, he planned to only have the kiss last a few seconds. Finding his fingers were clutching at cheeks, hair, neck, broad shoulders… any part of Oliver he could grab. 

A need bloomed in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of the first time he ever kissed Oliver. 

He had known for awhile that perhaps he wasn't really interested in girls. Sure, they were nice and all but he just didn't feel what all of his other male classmates seemed to talk about when they spoke of their crushes. At first he thought he might be like Charlie, just uninterested in romance all together. Far too focused on his career and becoming the youngest Minister of Magic to let something as silly as wooing a woman and marrying her stand in the way of such prospects. 

That kiss beneath the moon while warmed by the distant glow of firelight had been the official confirmation, he needed to start trying to fully understand his sexuality. His gay panic moment which quickly evolved into an 'oh crap I want to ruin my platonic friendship with my best mate' panic. 

It had awakened something within him. The same something which was currently driving him to snog his date senseless in the middle of the pub without a single doubt running through his head and causing him to hiss and pull back as he normally would have. With every other romantic partner he had strict rules which included no public displays of affection, no spending the night with each other unless it was deemed impractical to go home at such a late hour, no waking up next to each other and spending the day together, and no meeting each other's families or full friend groups.

He often wondered why he had so many rules and held everyone at bay. Why he had never really wanted a relationship to work with anyone else. His long running theory was the passion had just never really been there with anyone else he dated. Never having wanted to take anything to the next level he developed the rules to ensure the other person didn't get too attached and cause unnecessary heartbreak. Finally beginning to understand why. They hadn't been Oliver. 

When they parted for air his breaths came in short, harsh gasps, Oliver wasn't faring any better. His normally warm brown eyes darkened in desire as neither of them said anything for a minute.  

"Probably have a bit of shagging to do later on this evening as well if that display is any indication," Harry snorted as their heads snapped towards him at almost the same time, matching looks of ire. Engaging in a staring contest with the younger man who wasn't wavering in that infuriatingly smug grin of his.

"Shut it, Potter," they both chorused in unison.

The pub was filled with sounds of laughter as everyone began to dissect Oliver's account of their first kiss, each person weighing in on which one of them actually made the first move. When Oliver turned towards him to roll his eyes, he couldn't help but notice the still hazy quality which was becoming more and more common whenever they would catch each other's as of late. He recognized the look.

It was the same one he saw reflected everyday in his parents' eyes growing up. A look he saw often when he would watch Bill and Fleur, George and Angelina, Harry and Ginny, and everyone else he knew was in a committed relationship interact with each other. He didn't need to ask Oliver what it meant- he already knew. 

All I want is you.

Much later in the evening when Oliver made their excuses to leave, they strolled up the empty street hand in hand, hips and shoulders occasionally bumping into each other as they laughed about nothing in particular. Golden light slipped across the slick cobblestones from the recent rainstorm as they passed underneath the lampposts which lined the sidewalk, burning brightly in the still of the evening. He lived in an older neighborhood located off the main section of South London, most of his neighbors were young professionals who were focusing on their careers and beginning to start families of their own. So quiet and safe here that he could often forget it was part of London at all, with its crowded streets and sirens blaring at all hours. His flat was part of a section of once dilapidated row homes which had been bought for cheap and turned into separate units, one of the things he loved most was they kept much of the historic charm.

His building appeared before him, after they had already made a few laps around the block to prolong the inevitable goodbye. Walking up the stone steps as the wrought iron handrailing led them towards the chipped wooden door, stopping in front of a big sprawl of ivy creeping up the front of the building. A silence descended over the evening as they stood on the stoop lit by bright moonlight.  

Racking his brain to come up with something to say, the silence finally permeated by Oliver's low voice. "So," the man grinned at him, dimpled cheeks flushed a pretty pink as they stood facing each other. Pausing to flick his wand and cast a quick warming charm over both of them, depositing it back in his pocket. "I think tonight went well."

While Oliver did his best to keep his voice even and calm, he could tell he was nervous by the way he shifted from one foot to the other. He stared down into Oliver's wide eyes, mere inches from his own, and he saw the brief flash of uncertainty. It was as if he were searching his face for the answers to a test he hadn't prepared for well, a look he found rather endearing. "I think so as well. I had fun tonight."

"We should do it again sometime," Oliver leaned in, sending a shiver down his spine. "Perhaps next time it could be just the two of us. Say dinner and an evening stroll once I get back in town from my tour in Germany?"

"I would like that very much," he agreed with a small smile. "I know a great Italian place not far from where I live, and it is close to the Thames and several parks as well for our evening stroll." 

Oliver brought his hand up and gently cupped his cheek. His stare became a pool of desire, threatening to drown him as his veins thrummed with the overwhelming need to feel his lips against his own again. "It's a date then."

"It's a date," he agreed, letting a lock of brown hair slip through his fingers. Oliver smiled at him in that careless way of his, his heart hammering in his chest as his hand came to rest at the edge of a strong jaw. "Shall we commence with the victory snog portion of the evening? You caught me off guard earlier, it was not reflective of my best work."

"No-" he shook his head while trying to hide a cheeky grin at Oliver's confused head tilt. Despite the damp chill of the evening, he felt his cheeks heat up as Oliver swept him up in his arms with a loud laugh and a few twirls once he realized he was teasing him. "I thought we might have a quick chat about my most recent report at work. Riveting stuff really. I am in need of your expert opinion on broomstick regulations."

"We could do that," Oliver whispered, setting him down on the ground then gently nipped at his ear lobe. He felt himself shiver as a strong hand moved to rest on his hips, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. "We could talk about your report or- we could do some other stuff which is far more fun."

He lifted his chin up and playfully smacked at Oliver's shoulder. "The report-" he gasped out as Oliver's teeth returned to a rather sensitive area on his ear. "Due Monday- rather important-"

Merlin's beard he was about to be a goner.

"A boring old report does sound like fun," Oliver agreed, moving his lips down his jaw and neckline. "It's just you and me, standing in the moonlight. And oh look!" he felt Oliver grin against his neck, mouth moving expertly against his pale skin. "We have an ever so convenient brick wall. You can press me against it, or I can press you against it. Really doesn't matter to me, I don't tend to have a preference regarding things like that."

"So convenient," he breathed out, letting a lock of brown hair slip through his fingers, his other hand coming to rest at the edge of his jaw and pulling the man's lips towards his own in answer. Their lips danced tentatively against one another; moving to a now familiar rhythm as each participant sought to get as close to each other as possible. Feeling supple lips parting underneath his, the levee broke and he lost all ability to hold anything back. 

Oliver had his back pressed against the brick wall and his hands now moved everywhere. They began, as usual, with his hair, tangling them in his ginger locks before moving down to grip his shoulders for a moment. Fingers trailing down to squeeze the muscles of his upper arms, then traced back up to his shoulders. Slowly making their way towards the top three buttons of his shirt, expertly undoing them without breaking the kiss once. Fingers slipping beneath the thin fabric to trace his protruding collarbone all the way to his shoulder.

He mustered all of his strength and pulled back for a brief pause to catch his breath. Taking a second to appreciate the view before him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"May," Oliver teased, though he did look just a bit pleased to be the one correcting grammar instead of the other way around. 

"Technically both are grammatically correct, it's really a matter of preference" he pointed out, shaking his head at Oliver's adoring smile before just giving in and making the correction. "May I ask you a question?"

Oliver bit his lower lip to stop himself from laughing at his annoyance. "You may."

"Why do your lips taste suspiciously like cherries this evening?"

From the look of confusion in Oliver's eyes he hadn't been quite expecting that particular question. Blinking at him slowly before answering. "The wind was brutal during the match and I didn't realize my ChapStick was empty. Avery was the only person with an extra one that hadn't been used yet. There was the choice between cherry and watermelon so I went with cherry. Figured it was the more manly flavor. I was only going to use it once but... I rather like the way it tastes, plus it works better than my usual brand."

"I prefer watermelon," he replied after unsuccessfully trying to hold back his giggles, eyes sparkling with amusement at the image of Oliver applying a tube of the same cherry ChapStick his younger sister used to wear when they were kids. 

"Noted," Oliver nodded at him, pausing for a moment before biting his lip again and sucking in a breath. "May I now ask you a question?"

The way Oliver was fidgeting set his nerves on edge. His heart lodged in his throat and his fingers itching to grab the man's hand, after a few seconds he reached out, their fingers grazing against each other for an instant before he laced them together. "You may," he finally whispered. 

"Well, I suppose it is more of general wondering than a true question," Oliver looked up to meet his eyes expectedly, as though he should have already guessed what this little chat was about and therefore there was no need for him to continue. "I was thinking that I might want to alter the terms of our little agreement."

He hummed, interested yet desperately trying to play it cool and not ruin the whole evening and what might be his one chance. "What did you have in mind?"

"I would like to officially go on record for stating that the 'no kissing' clause is null and void."

"Agreed," he replied without even pausing to think about his answer, normally he would not have been so eager but figured he really had nothing to lose in this instance. Besides, he was fairly certain the whole no kissing rule was pretty much understood to longer be strictly enforced. 

Oliver nodded his head, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth up. "I also wanted to revisit a couple other rules as well," he continued on, seemingly emboldened by his date's eagerness to readily agree with his requests. "Namely the one where we can leave with anyone we choose. I would prefer it if we only left functions with each other. I would experience an embarrassing fit of jealousy followed by falling promptly into a pit of depression and deep despair if I had to witness you hanging on the arm of another man."

"Done," he agreed easily. "I would feel the same if you left me to fend for myself at some Quidditch function where I am surrounded by nothing but a bunch of himbos and forced to make small talk regarding the size of their bicep or how much they can bench press."

"Speaking of adorable himbos with bulging biceps," Oliver charged on with his general wonderings. "The last thing we originally agreed upon was that we could see other people, since we were just going to be permanent dates. I don't want to see other people and I really don't want you to see other people either. So, I think we should see only each other. Not just for family and work functions either, all the time."

He looked down at the ground, to his hands nervously grasping Oliver's. Gently pulling them away and picking at the hem of his shirt, pretending to be interested in the nonexistent loose strings. Refusing to meet Oliver's eyes, terrified of what he might find in them. "You want to date each other? Exclusively?" 

"Well- yeah," Oliver said in a small voice, confusion briefly flashing in his eyes and then panic that perhaps he misread the situation. He feels a deep loathing for himself over the knowledge that he did that to him. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

It is. All I want is you. The problem is- I just don't deserve you. I don't deserve to be happy, a painful and constant thought in the back of his mind that he’s tried hard to suppress over the past couple of weeks, but can no longer ignore. 

He wanted Oliver, he really did. But- well, now that he had the man right at his fingertips every single reason for why this wasn't a good idea was running through his mind on repeat. 

They would never work.

They were destined to fail.

Their choices during the war were very different, Oliver had not blindly trusted authority. Had not put all of his faith into the Ministry and found himself stuck in a tyrannical regime with no way to escape even after realizing what was actually going on. 

His family would blame him entirely for their relationship not working out and everything would return to how it had been. He would once again be the black sheep, an outsider. The family disappointment.

Oliver would one day wake up and realize how broken he was. See every vulnerability he kept hidden beneath several layers so no one would see the thousands of little cracks. Then everyone would know how close he came to breaking down every single day. 

Once those cracks started to show there would be no turning back. The man standing in front of him would realize it had all been a facade. A lie. Why would he stay after that? Why would Oliver ever love someone like him?

"I'm a mess," he whispered, mostly to himself, finally putting to words what he had been feeling for the past few years. 

"I don't care," Oliver said firmly, reaching out for his hands and taking them gently in his own. "I want you."

He focused on the feeling of Oliver's thumb rubbing comforting circles over the back of his hands and not on how close to tears he currently felt. "Really, I am. I'm not the confident eighteen-year-old anymore who thought he would start working at the Ministry and be promoted to Minister of magic within ten years. I almost didn't even go back to the Ministry after the war, but I just didn't know what else to do. And now- now I'm just a hopeless mess." The words still stung on his tongue with something akin to shame and regret that he was weak enough to let the cracks peek through the carefully cultivated persona he developed over the years.

"I don't care," Oliver assured him again, more forcibly this time. "I still want you."

His shoulders hunched forward, yanking his hands out of Oliver's grasp and wrapping his arms around himself, stroking his shirt with his thumb right above his elbow. "I am a mess," he mumbled. "You deserve better than me, someone who didn't abandon his best mate for five years then selfishly asks you to pretend to date him and put up with his family. A family I didn't even tell that I was gay before taking you to a Ministry event, I meant to, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I was so worried about their reactions to my sexuality, and while my siblings might be ok with it my parents certainly weren't. Sure, both of them are trying but it just isn't the same thing as receiving the acceptance outright. I just- I don't deserve to be with someone like you. You should probably just find someone who you can actually be happy with."

They stood silently for a beat, letting his admission hang heavy in the air surrounding them. When it became obvious that Oliver wasn't going to respond, that he has finally realized just how broken he truly is and no longer eager to change the terms of their agreement, he nods to himself. Anxiously drumming his fingers against his elbows, turning to walk towards the front door of his building before he broke down in tears. “Alright, well I’ll just go inside then.”

“Perce,” Oliver pleaded just as he takes another step away from the man. He felt himself stiffen at the soft tone, but still turned around to face the man he was falling head over heels for, brows pulling together a little when Oliver wrapped his arms protectively around him and gently cupped his chin. "I want you, all of you. I forgave you for the falling out between us years ago, let's just face it, I wasn't exactly innocent either. Should have just given you the space you so clearly needed and should have pushed a bit harder for a reconciliation after the war. I don't care if you are a mess, I'm a mess as well. Why do you think I've been going to therapy for nearly two years? No way that anyone could come out of that wizarding war and not be just a bit of a mess. I don't care about your family either, it's your information to tell. I know that you were going to tell them and were simply beaten to the punch by the Daily Prophet," Oliver paused for a minute, taking a deep breath. "I want you, all of you. Every single part. The good- and the stuff you are still working on."

When their eyes met, a small, gentle smile alighted on Oliver's face, tipping his head slightly to one side. The concern etched into every line brought hot tears to his eyes, and while he attempted to blink them away, he wasn’t fast enough. Oliver opened up his arms wide as he stepped towards him, finding his face buried in a strong shoulder as familiar arms shielded him from the world for a few minutes. Clinging to his frame and feeling like he was being bombarded by a storm he’d thought had already passed, years of trauma caused by being isolated from and by his family bubbling to the surface. "I want you too."

"Good," Oliver whispered in a tender voice, one hand tangled in his hair and placing soft kisses on top of his head. "Because I really do want to be with you. It has taken me nearly seven years to work up the courage to ask you out on a proper date. Would have normally taken me far longer than a week to work up the courage to even have this conversation, but I was spurred on by the horrifying thought that I wouldn't say anything then leave for three weeks only to return and find that you found some proper fit lad to snog instead of me. I had nightmares regarding that particular scenario."

He snorted at Oliver's attempt to use what the proud Scotsman had dubbed 'useless posh English terms' during their first year, nuzzling his nose against Oliver's jumper. "You are a 'proper fit lad.' You play professional Quidditch for Godric's sake. How much more fit of a man do you think I could manage to bag?"

"You've got the same genetics as Bill and Charlie," Oliver hummed, rubbing his free hand slowly up and down his back. "Time to face it, Perce. You are one sexy twenty-something year old. Not to mention you are wickedly intelligent and have a decent job. I've got to stake my claim or else I will be spending quite a lot of time fighting off the eligible men flocking around you."

He let out a half-hearted chuckle, swiping at his eyes which had finally dried. "I am going to ignore the part where you think my older brothers are hot and just focus on the fact that you think I am sexy."

"We still have access to the brick wall," Oliver waggled his eyebrows suggestively at him, eliciting a reluctant giggle as he eyed the wall in question. It certainly did look sturdy and a good snogging session would help boost his spirits. He felt Oliver lean into him, pressing the words against his lips. “What do you say? Want me to prove that I think you are quite sexy?”

He smiled against Oliver’s mouth, then nodded before pulling back just enough that he caught the man's gaze. Their eyes never left each other, the desire flickering in the warm golden flakes like a guiding flame as he slowly pushed Oliver a few steps backwards until he was flat against the wall. His hands sliding against the fabric of the man's jumper in response, venturing down his chest to his abdomen where they slipped beneath to bare skin. 

Oliver had always been his, ever since he accepted the friendship of the overeager eleven-year-old boy who always seemed to be right up under him, despite his many failed attempts to hide. It was understood among their little group at Hogwarts that Oliver was his favorite friend, the one person he could depend on to pull through for him. For eight years he took advantage of that fact, never truly realizing how much he relied on his best mate's friendship and constant presence in his life. Not until he lost it all in one night, having to wait five long years until he finally got the chance to regain what he lost. 

Each slow, heated kiss held a bittersweetness to it, soon Oliver would have to go away for three weeks, but he was choosing to focus on the fact that Oliver was once again his. 

Exclusively his.

This time he wasn't letting go.  

Chapter Text

"Take me away, I'm okay if I got you. We don't have to stay, we can do what we want to. Just give a little bit of your heart, give a little bit of your heart to me. All of my scars start to heal when I am with you and I can't explain how I feel when I am with you. Just give a little bit of your heart, give a little bit of your heart to me. Just come give me all your love. I want you to know, we can make it together. Let the wind blow, all we need is each other. Come take my hand you're all that I have. Cause I've found all the answers in you." Loving Caliber- I Found the Answer in You

His cheek hit the floor with a sickening crunch, white hot pain bloomed fresh from the newly formed wound, and he could feel the rush of blood pooling where he lay. He dared not move. Before the charmed handcuffs had been slapped on his thin wrists and a blindfold placed around his eyes he had witnessed how the death eaters swiftly dealt with those who did not comply. 

Even without the clang of the iron bars slamming shut he knew where he was. Deep beneath the last known floor of the Ministry where the aurors temporarily placed witches and wizards accused of heinous crimes while awaiting the trial which would determine if they would spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban.

There would be no trial for him.

Only punishment.

Shaking hands reached to tug on his blindfold, slowly working it off of his head. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe, the fabric coming away red as we winced when the rough fabric found fresh  bruises.

The  terror of the last few hours draining him as the adrenaline left his body, flashes of recent memories haunted him as he blinked against the harsh light. 

Death eaters storming into the Ministry. 

Eerily calm as they rounded up every Ministry official and person working on a random Saturday, assuring them that a transfer of power was necessary. The sanctity of the world as they knew it was at risk and now was the time for drastic measures. Nothing would happen to them if they just complied with their demands.

The screams of the people who dared to fight back. Everyone else huddled into one corner of the boardroom, hoping if they just did as they were asked that the death eaters would show mercy. 

Rufus Scrimgeour lying dead in the middle of the atrium. 

The damp cold sank deep into his bones, every joint aching as he leaned his back and head against the wall carved out of rock. He read about the theories behind sensory deprivation, where prisoners who were held without any contact to the outside world slipped slowly into madness, becoming a shell of who they once were. He was now aware this was also true for sensory overload. Blood curdling screams echoed off the stone walls, a mixture of the individual interrogations taking place and those who touched the iron bars imprisoning them. Perhaps they weren't aware, or maybe they had just given up caring, so desperate for freedom they were willing to risk pain akin to several cruciatus curses at once. 

Falling to the floor, convulsions ravaging their body. 

He would not be attempting to escape.

He had done this before- survived the removal of Cornelius Fudge, the reign of Scrimgeour, the endless interrogations regarding his family and their ties to the Order of the Pheonix. 

He would survive this too.

There would be no other option. 

His family's safety depended on his ability to navigate these difficult situations, to remain quiet. The others, they depended on him as well. Files for muggleborns suspected of 'stealing' magic would mysteriously go missing, blamed on being lost in the constant shuffle which was the Ministry. Important documents altered, not enough to draw suspicion but coordinates and locations would be changed in order to lead the snatchers on something close to a Nargle hunt. Completely pointless and the target remained elusive, like trying to grasp at wind.  

Many believed that since he was in Gryffindor, he should be braver, run headfirst into danger without thinking about the long-term consequences. Fight back openly and loudly, like so many others were doing.

There were those who hissed insults at him as he walked past. Coward, traitor, the Ministry Sympathizer- 

The disappointment in his father's eyes was what hurt the most. Someone he loved and had known his whole life would no longer even look at him, especially not after what he said during Christmas break last year. He hadn't wanted to- it was the first time he had seen his family in the same place since he left home. Walking into his childhood home decorated for Christmas day and the smells of his mother's cooking had almost done him in- almost made him abandon his carefully coordinated plan. There was simply no other option, he was already suspected of withholding information and he knew that was one of the underlying factors which made Scrimgeour bring him along. 

He had to 'prove' his loyalty to the Ministry. He had to keep his family safe. 

The plan worked- it destroyed his relationship with his family, but it worked.  

No one seemed to understand that outright defiance would only make you a mark for the Ministry. So much more good could be done by flying under the radar, when people trusted you it made espionage a lot less of a hassle. He wasn't a coward- he just wasn't reckless. If he got himself killed then there would be no one directly working with the Minister and other high ranking officials who could fight back- quietly. 

Footsteps echoed, drawing nearer. Closer... closer... closer. 

The cell door creaked open.

"Grab the blood traitor," the deep voice commanded as four masked people clothed in all black rushed into his cell and rough hands started to drag him out. "Find out what his family has been plotting and where they are hiding Harry Potter."

He awoke suddenly just before the masked death eaters could drag him fully out of the cell for his own interrogation, sitting upright in bed as his breath came out in ragged gasps. A flash of brilliant white light illuminating the room, casting shadows against the walls before they were once again doused in darkness. Thunder rattled the window panes and boomed loud in his ears, before his mind could fully come to terms with his surroundings he lurched up and out of bed. Scanning the small room with his wand at the ready, poised to take down the now invisible threat. 

Screams trapped inside his head once again overtook him and he bolted from the room, seeking shelter in the bathroom. Slamming the door shut he leaned his back against the solid surface, slowly sinking towards the tiled floor as sobs racked his body. Knees drawn to his chest he buried his tear-streaked face in his folded arms, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

Safe. He was safe. 

He knew, realistically, that it was just a nightmare. A very vivid nightmare based on actual events, but a nightmare none the less. 

Just breathe. Inhale, slow exhale.

His poor attempt at normal breathing came out as nothing more than a pitiful puff followed by a wracked sob. He could do this, walk himself through the tightening in his chest, the way his lungs seemed to suddenly be incapable of holding onto air, his racing heartbeat and disjointed thoughts, and his shaking limbs which made even the smallest of movements seem like impossible feats. 

Just breathe. Inhale, slow exhale.

The war had been over for a few years, why couldn't he just let go? 

He hadn't had a nightmare this intense in a long time. Beads of sweat dripped down his body, soaking his clothing and causing his legs to stick against the tile beneath him. Thankful no one was present to witness him completely falling apart, thrown into a fit of hysterics by a storm and a nightmare brought on by a flood of painful memories. As the anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts crept closer, he knew the ghosts of his past would start coming back to haunt him with vengeance when he dared to try and get some rest. Given the addictive qualities of dreamless sleep he tended to avoid any sleep aids unless absolutely necessary, so far he was almost a year without needing to sip the bitter liquid so he could drift into blissful unconsciousness.  

Given his current mental state he might have to make a trip to Diagon Alley and grab a couple of bottles to have on hand. Just in case. 

He tried another slow breath, eyes still shut against the dim light as the thunder rattled the walls and the lightning cracked across the sky. When he let out the breath he risked opening one eyelid, drawing another breath in and his other eye opened on the exhale. 

Good, at least he was capable of such basic functions. Now to pull himself fully together.

What he wanted was Oliver, knowing that if the man was here he would know exactly what to do. Would probably pull him against him, safe and warm in his gentle embrace. But, Oliver wasn't here and he certainly wasn't going to be accioing his phone and asking him to make a special trip over here to pull him up off the floor. That was where he drew the line at his neediness. 

This was something he would have to do himself. 

Crawling over to the base of the sink he used the edge to pull himself into a standing position, slightly hunched but at least he was now upright and no longer laying boneless on the floor. Trembling hands found the sides of the sink, then the faucet, then the tap. Splashing water onto his face to try and calm his still racing heart. 

It didn't really do anything to help, but he didn't care. At least it was something. 

He blinked at the reflection in the mirror, taking in the dark bags under his red rimmed and puffy eyes. Splashing another couple of handfuls of water before finally just giving up on the endeavor. It was hopeless. Turning off the tap he huffed out a sigh then dragged himself back to his bed. 

Settling beneath the covers as his head rested on a soft pillow he willed sleep to overtake him naturally. He was exhausted to the core, his muscles ached as though he'd just attempted to perform Puddlemere's warm-up routine, and he felt rather cold and clammy. 

Sleep would not come. 

As if on cue his phone buzzed beside him, blue light flickering until he picked it up. Reaching over to his nightstand he found his glasses once again, blinking against the sudden onset of light, blearily making out the words of the text message as they swam before his slowly adjusting eyes. 

O: Hey. I know you're still sleeping... but I'm getting ready to leave for my trip and just wanted to say that I had a great time last night. I'm really going to miss you. 

He wiggled to make himself even more comfortable, creating a sort of protective cocoon of warm blankets and pillows. May as well lay in bed and talk to Oliver, apparently sleep was not going to come to him easily. He was taking this as a sign. 

P: I had a great time last night as well. I'm going to miss you too. 

O: Someone's up early. Hope you aren't stressing about your interviews and upcoming project.

P: Nope... just... couldn't sleep I suppose. 

To say that he necessarily expected to see Oliver's name immediately flash across his screen would be a lie. To say that he was surprised that Oliver's natural reaction to his cryptic text was to call him because he suspected something was amiss would also be a lie. 

Oliver had always been a sweetheart, not many got to know that side of him, but the normally single-minded keeper was surprisingly perceptive when it came to the people he cared about. During Hogwarts Oliver could always tell what sort of mood he was in by the way he sat his school books on a hard surface, it was always oddly comforting. His own family tended to ignore his fluctuating emotions, but never Oliver. Always there with a hug or just a quiet presence while he worked out whatever was upsetting him internally. Usually offering odd tidbits of Quidditch statistics from the professional leagues or new ideas he had for tactics if all he needed was a distraction to whatever woes he was currently experiencing.  

"Do you want to talk about it?" Oliver's warm baritone filled the room. 

Letting out a contented sigh he snuggled his blankets closer to him, placing the phone next to his pillow so he wouldn't get a sore arm from having to hold the device to his ear. "Not really, let's just talk about something else. Are you dropping Niffler off at Harry and Ginny's before you leave?"

Oliver made a small disbelieving sound, for a second he was worried the subject of his sudden insomnia would not be dropped. "Really, Perce? Do you honestly believe me to be dumb enough to wake your little sister at this ungodly hour? She would rip my legs clean off, then calmly state that I didn't actually need them to play Quidditch so I couldn't even claim unsportsmanlike behavior off the pitch. I dropped my sweet kitty off last night after our date."

The word 'date' filled him with an unexpected jolt of excitement, thankful neither Penny nor Charlie were there to watch the dumb grin spread across his face. "Probably a smart move. My sister is like a rabid badger when you pull her out of her beauty sleep."

"No quips regarding my remark about Niffler being a sweet kitty? I'm a bit disappointed in you. Normally you are quite vocal about her being some conniving serial killer who has a targeted plan for your demise."

"I stand firm on my previous statements," he remarked, rolling onto his side and settling the phone next to his pillow. "I'm just too exhausted to think properly. Come morning I will have plenty of quips against that little devil you insist upon letting sleep with you."

The sounds of Oliver unceremoniously throwing things into a trunk were followed by a small cough. "I can let you go if you are too tired to talk."

"NO!" he sat up in bed as though he had been hit with a curse, shaking his head to clear his jumbled thoughts. "I don't mind. Couldn't really sleep because of the storm. Tell me more about your tactics for the upcoming Quidditch matches."

"All right," Oliver grunted as the trunk snapped closed. "Just know that you asked for it. No backing out now, you are about to receive a crash course in the most impressive combination of various Quidditch strategies to ever grace the pitch in the history of the greatest sport known to man."

"No complaints," he nodded to himself, settling down against the pillow and placing his phone beside him once again. His breath steady in the darkness combined with the soft pattering of rain against the rooftops provided a melody to accompany Oliver's soft voice as he went into detail regarding his planned tactics. Normally he would have asked follow-up questions and offered his advice, however his eyelids were incredibly heavy and having Oliver so near to him was warm and comforting.  

Within moments, he was asleep again. 

When he woke several hours later, light was streaming in through the small gap in the curtains and the faint smell of a freshly brewed coffee caught his attention as being different from his normal morning greeting. Shifted onto his side he found his phone still lying next to him on the mattress, the small flashing light letting him know he had a pending text message. 

O: Sleep tight... don't know how you could possibly fall asleep when there was talk of something as exciting as Quidditch. 😞 JK. Seriously, let me know how you are feeling when you wake up.

P: I am ok. Thanks for checking in on me last night. Safe travels and let me know you made it to Germany.

He figured it would be a minute before he heard back from Oliver. Odds were he was in some meeting with the managers or busy running a practice with his team. 

His brain still muddled from the nightmare and storm from the night he yawned and stretched his long limbs before rolling unceremoniously out of bed, shuffling down the hall towards the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen. While he should have been a bit more wary of waking to find someone in his house he figured if it was a robber they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of cooking what smelled suspiciously like bacon. If it was a robber he would simply make them a deal that as long as they didn't take any of his favorite books and let him make himself a cup of coffee then he would show them where all of the valuables were, he had been thinking of redecorating anyways. 

Rounding the corner he was met with the sight of Charlie, tipped back in one of his kitchen chairs with his feet on the table and a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. 

"Hey there little sleeping dragon. Made some coffee and there is a traditional English breakfast for you on the stove," Charlie greeted him without glancing away from the paper gripped in his hands, a broad grin stretched across his face which did nothing but raise his suspicions regarding this impromptu little visit. 

His eyes tracked over the kitchen trying to find any indication which could explain why his brother was not busy taming dragons. Finding no such clues he narrowed his eyes at the man. "Why are you here?"

"Honestly," Charlie scoffed at him, still not looking up from the article he was engrossed in. "I go through the trouble of providing you breakfast after your big date with Oliver and all I get is an inquiry as to why I am not in Romania." 

"How did you know about that?" he asked as he turned towards the stovetop to find he did in fact have a rather delicious looking breakfast waiting on him. Still piping hot thanks to the use of some warming spells, Merlin did he love magic. 

"Still no thank you for the breakfast," Charlie sighed at him as he approached the table, pulling out a chair opposite his older brother, waiting for his explanation while sipping on a cup of perfectly brewed coffee. "Hasn't seen me in weeks and my little brother can't even manage to grace me with those proper English manners he is always such a stickler for. Sometimes I just feel so unappreciated in this family-"

He could feel his upper lip curling, gritting his teeth and finding himself wishing for just one moment of peace. "Thank you for popping uninvited into my flat early on a Sunday morning and putting your disgusting boots that you muck dragon dung in on my nice clean kitchen table. At least you made up for this intrusion of privacy and normal standards of hygiene by brewing a pot of my coffee and providing some nutrition from a nearby cafe."

Charlie just gave a good-natured chuckle, finally lowering the paper so he could see the man's eyes sparking with mirth. "Had to- you have a disturbing lack of food in your fridge and pantry. To answer your question about how I knew about your little date with hunky himbo Ollie. Bill told me you were going to be attending the Quidditch match. Even if he hadn't, the Daily Prophet and every other magazine is covering the story of the captain of Puddlemere United seen smooching on his boyfriend in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. They got some cute pictures of you two. I take it this is some new plan the two of you cooked up, the next step in your grand fake dating scheme to fool our parents and siblings. Still fooling yourself or have you wised up a bit in my absence?"

"I will have you know," he seethed as he dug his fork into a piece of his pancake, bringing it up to his mouth so he could chew while glaring at his sibling. "That what Oliver and I choose to do is none of your concern. If I want to kiss him in front of a stadium full of people, then I will. What angle are these pictures from anyways? I don't look good when the camera captures me head on, much more flattering from the side."

"You look as pretentious and beak-nosed as you always do in pictures. No angle will change that," Charlie deadpanned, giving him a look which suggested he wasn't going to fall for a switch of subjects. "Thought you two agreed on no smooches. Wasn't that part of your little ground rules?"

He sighed, staring at the ceiling and racking his brain for any way he could possibly escape the clutches of Charlie. The only alternative he could think of was popping over to Penny's flat, certain that Charlie would enlist the help of the other Weasleys and track him down. Pull him kicking and screaming out onto the streets of Muggle London, considering he was in his boxer shorts and not keen on being arrested for indecent exposure he figured he may as well get this over with. "The terms of the agreement were altered."

"Huh," Charlie grunted at him. "And what are these new terms?"

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he finally managed to unclench his jaw enough to get a few words out. "None of your business."

"That was certainly fast. I mean, I knew you two idiots would eventually fall for each other but even I thought it would take a couple of months or at least take a few months for you to come around to the possibility that you fancied the man. So, how long have the little smooches on Quidditch pitches been going on?"

Merlin did he wish he was an only child sometimes. Oliver never had to deal with this sort of abuse or endless interrogation into his love life. At least with friends it was easier to avoid them for a few weeks, his own family would take him kicking them out of his flat as an invitation to break the statute of secrecy in order to regain access to the now forbidden area. "That was the first one."

Charlie let out a low whistle, picking up the paper off the table and returning to his morning reading. "That is certainly bold. First kiss in front of thousands of people. Though, I suppose if you are trying to say, 'hey, I have been secretly in love with you for years and I want you to be my boyfriend for real instead of this ridiculous plan to fake date,' that would certainly send the intended message."

Come Monday morning he was going to file the official paperwork with the Ministry to change his name and ensure that Oliver and Penny were the only two people who had access to his flat. "It wasn't our first kiss, just the first one on a Quidditch pitch."

"The plot thickens," Charlie took an infuriatingly loud slurp of coffee, setting it down on the table a bit rougher than was polite in normal society. "Come on, don't be shy. Give me the details."

He paused, a forkful of pancake halfway to his mouth, and stared at his brother as though he could bore holes into the side of his head with mindpower alone. "George and Angelina's engagement party, the after party to be exact. We were dancing on the balcony overlooking the night skyline of London and it just- sort of happened. I mean- not that I didn't want to kiss him- I did- it's just- complicated. Then we just sort of started kissing more frequently and well- he's a very good kisser-"

"Alcohol does do wonders for lowering one's inhibitions," Charlie grinned at him from over the top of his paper. "Very romantic setting. Props to you and Oliver for choosing that moment to just let it happen. I'm sure neither of you were obsessing for days over how to seduce the other into finally kissing you or anything of the sort. So, are you two now permanent dates with benefits or have you crossed into something a little more serious?"

He said nothing for a few minutes but shot his brother a look that he hoped spoke volumes. In any case, Charlie seemed keen to ignore his silent pleas for a subject change, scoffing fondly at his refusal to give up any of the juicy details. Another eyebrow wiggle from the man and he relented, best to just get this over with, that and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted Charlie filling in the gaps himself. The Weasley's had enough of a rumor mill as it was, didn't need Charlie getting himself into the mix. "We agreed to only leave functions with each other and not date anyone else on the side, fake or otherwise. Exclusive dates who also hang out all the time after work and on the weekend and kiss each other. When he gets back into town we are going to go out for dinner, just the two of us. And I have a few farmers' markets and museums that I am in need of him to accompany me to."

"So, you're dating?" Charlie asked, his tone infuriatingly light and airy for the fact that he barged into the flat early in the morning and was now prying into his love life. 

He was dangerously close to coming to blows with the man grinning across the table from him. "If you want to put a label on it... sure, we are dating."

"I'm happy for you," Charlie's tone quickly switching over to one of sincerity. "I like Oliver- have always liked Oliver. Bit odd and certainly goofy, but he's a truly decent fellow. He's good for you and from what I have heard from the rest of our siblings you are happier now that you are with him. As long as you are happy and Oliver is treating you well then I have no issues with whatever relationship you choose to have with him. Just as long as you are being honest with yourself and with him about what it is you want."

"Now that I have willingly answered your barrage of questions," he insisted, grinning when the older red head laughed. "You never told me what you are doing here. You could have had this conversation via floo or letter. No need to come all the way from Romania just to harass me."

Charlie set his paper back down on the table with a suddenly serious look, one which looked oddly out of place on his normally grinning face. "If you must know I am going to be telling our dear mother and father that I am aromantic and asexual this evening. As well as informing them that Tonks and I are only platonic friends and were simply accompanying each other to functions over the past few years."

"What brought this on?" he asked, pressing his lips together as he carefully watched his brother's face for any signs that the topic of conversation needed to be dropped. 

"Well," Charlie quirked a small grin at him that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Tonks has been seeing a lovely woman that I set her up with for a few months now. One of my dragon taming buddies who moved back to the UK to be closer to her family. At first, I thought we would just break the news to mum and dad in a roundabout fashion, blaming why nothing between us ever happened on the distance and other factors which were neither of our faults. I guess- I just finally feel brave enough to tell our family about my sexuality, thanks to you."

He was so startled he nearly dropped his coffee cup, splashing the amber liquid onto the table and hurrying to clean it up while gaping at his older brother. "Me?"

"Yep. You," Charlie rubbed at his eyes and tipped his head back while exhaling heavily. "Watching how you dealt so expertly with mum and dad not understanding your sexuality, being patient while they came to terms with their own internalized homophobia. I was so proud when, instead of caving to their desires for your life, you stood up to them. Defended not only yourself but also Oliver and set boundaries for how they would speak and act towards you both. When they crossed those boundaries, you remained firm and reiterated that you would not accept that sort of behavior. You were unapologetically yourself for the first time in your life. I respect you for that little bro. I decided that I wanted that to. The ability to just be myself around family members, sans the need for a permanent date to appease people who only think they know what will make me happy."

Blinking in surprise he gaped at Charlie, glancing up at him to ensure that he was in fact being serious. It never occurred to him that he could ever be a source of inspiration for his siblings. Bill was the cool one and the first one to ever make prefect and head boy, Charlie was the laid back one and the Quidditch prodigy, Fred and George were the pranksters who were also infuriatingly creative and intelligent, Ron was part of the golden trio who helped defeat Voldemort, and Ginny was a bit of all her brothers combined while still managing to somehow be her own unique person. But him- he was just Percy. The one Weasley who always seemed to be following in their siblings' footsteps, even the younger ones. "Me? You respect me?"

"Are you always this thick?" Charlie asked quietly, standing to reach over the table and ruffled his mess of curls before levitating the empty plates to the sink and with a flick of his wand produced water and soap to clean them. "Yes, Percy. I respect you and I think you are incredibly brave."

"Thanks. I guess," he replied lamely, pulling his feet into his seat and tucking his knees against his chest, wrapping his arms around his chest then shrugging awkwardly.

"Merlin! No wonder it took you and Oliver so bloody long to realize you had feelings for each other," Charlie glanced over at him from the kitchen, opening a few cabinet doors and then the refrigerator, grimacing at the meager contents. Slamming the fridge door shut he turned to stare fully at him. "Go get dressed. I suppose that on top of having to ensure you had enough food for breakfast I will also have to take you shopping."

Chapter Text

"So, when the night feels like forever, I'll remember what you said to me. I know you've been hurtin,' waitin' on a train that just won't come. The rain, it ain't permanent and soon we'll be dancin' in the sun. We'll be dancin' in the sun and we'll sing your song together... We never miss the flowers until the sun's down. You never count the hours until they're runnin' out. If you're on the other side of the storm now, you should be so proud. Better days are comin,' better days are comin' for you." Dermot Kennedy- Better days

He walked quietly through the dimly lit hallway leading to his flat, shutting and locking the door behind him. Standing in the peaceful quiet of his living room he took a deep breath, allowing the last edges of icy dread which had settled in the pit of his stomach to be chased away, a golden glow taking its place. After years of skirting around the root of his issues he was finally on the cusp of taking a rather large step towards putting his own needs first.

All he needed was to run his idea by Oliver. 

Humming to himself as he nudged his shoes off his feet, gently moving them out of the way, staring into the fireplace before waving his wand. A few seconds later a warm fire crackled, casting shadows around the room.

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket he glanced down to find Oliver's name appearing on the screen. 

O: Put on the record that we bought when you came to visit me the summer before our seventh year then call me. Don't ask questions... you will ruin the ambiance I am diligently working to create. 

P: So mysterious this evening... all right, I will see if I can find the album you are referring to.

No need to pretend he required clarification; he knew exactly which record Oliver was referring to. The last true summer they had together he traveled up to the Isle of Sky for a week and they walked along the road to the nearby muggle village, the wailing harmony of the wind and sea keeping the two of them company. Bored and looking for something to do which didn't involve the Wood's family farm or working through the pile of summer work assigned to them merely a month before, they wandered into a record store and proceeded to browse the selections. Upon Oliver's insistence they both got the same album, something about it being a memento of their friendship and time together at Hogwarts. Through the years since, and the numerous moves that one record never left his collection, though he tried several times during the war he could never bear to part with it. 

At the moment his sentimental nature was something he was infinitely thankful for. Though, he did wonder how Oliver had known he had the thing in his possession. More importantly, why did Oliver deem that specific record important enough to take with him on a three-week trip to Germany?

Feeling his phone buzz again, he found another text message from Oliver. 

O: You have your records organized alphabetically by band name. Look in the Qs. I believe it is the third or fourth one. 

He smiled, as though he were smiling to himself, finding the record exactly where Oliver said it would be. Pulling the vinyl from its sleeve and setting it on the player, gently nudging the arm over and around before it connected. He set the album cover aside as the static from the record played out in the stillness of the flat, the light from the fire washing him in a golden glow that did nothing for his heart. If he were being honest with himself the absence of Oliver's presence in his life left him with a deep ache in the hollowness of his chest. As he wasn't quite ready to be that honest with himself, it had only been just over a month he reasoned, pushing all thoughts of how lovely it would be to pull the man into a slow dance out of his head he instead picked up his cell phone and began to dial Oliver as instructed. 

"Hey, Perce," Oliver's warm voice greeted him after only two rings. 

"Hey, Ollie," he greeted, flicking his wand so he could summon a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt to change into. "What's with the request to put on the record?"

He was answered with a loud sigh and what he was certain was an accompanying eye roll. "I told you not to ask questions. It's romantic... we are listening to the same record even though we aren't even in the same country."

"How did you know I had that particular record still?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled as he paused right in the middle of pulling the sweatshirt over his oversized t-shirt. One arm raised in the air as he wiggled his fingers to find freedom once again. "It's been ages since we visited that record store in the village."

"I've been invited into your flat, by yourself none the less," Oliver reasoned, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. "It's not like your record collection is some big Ministry secret. Public knowledge if you ask me."

Something in his shoulders seemed to settle, smoothing out the faded Quidditch jersey he managed to nab from Oliver during their last movie night under the guise of being a bit chilly. "So, you nosed around in my things when my back was turned?"

"I was doing research. Hardly worthy of an interrogation to rival that of a trial with the full Wizengamot."

"Research huh?" he lightly teased. "Is that what we are calling you poking about in my personal possessions?"

Oliver made a small snorting noise accompanied by an offended huff. "I am captain of Puddlemere United in case you have forgotten. You really think I achieved that little feat without having some sort of strategy? I never walk into a situation without doing the proper amount of research to devise an effective strategy in order to achieve my goal."

"Hate to break it to you mate, but I am fairly certain that snooping in my record collection isn't going to be the secret to ensuring your Quidditch career is successful," he insisted good-naturedly while plopping down on the couch and kicking his feet up longways on the cushions, waving his wand to light a few candles and summon a bottle of wine and a glass to complete the intended atmosphere of romance that Oliver insisted upon.

Silence followed his statement, before he could respond with something awkward, most likely, or falter in his friendly banter, Oliver finally spoke up. "That wasn't the intended goal of knowing the intimate details of your precious record collection."

"What was the intended goal?" 

He was once again met with silence on the other end of the line. "You have horrible taste in music anyways, besides the records I got you of course. You're in your twenties, Perce, not your late eighties. Step away from the classical music section and branch out into artists from the twentieth century. How did Sunday dinner with your family go? Charlie successfully bring himself out of the metaphorical closet?"

While it hadn't escaped his notice that Oliver was avoiding his questions, he decided to not push the issue. He would allow the man to have his secrets, for now at least. Topping off the glass with a fresh pour of wine and breathing in the lingering scent of sandalwood from the candles he bought today when shopping with Charlie he began his recap of the evening.

"Would you mind helping Fred and George set the table dear?" his mum asked, busying herself in the kitchen finishing up dinner as he sat at the small, scratched kitchen table which would soon be expanded to accommodate all of them. 

"Of course," he answered, making his way over to where Charlie was casually leaned against the edge of the counter with a satisfied smirk on his face to grab the plates sitting in the cabinet just above his left ear. Placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze, but not making any eye contact to avoid alerting the others that something was potentially going on. Being in the Weasley family was like being surrounded by rather nosy aurors at any given hour of the day, someone was always waiting nearby to interrogate you for any minor change in behavior.  

His inaugural Sunday dinner since the falling out with his parents had been slightly overshadowed by Charlie's unexpected appearance at the Burrow this evening. Not that he minded. He always envied Charlie's breeziness with life, the way he never seemed to want to conform to other's expectations of him, including those of his parents. However, after their chat earlier today he had been wondering if perhaps Charlie cared a bit more than he let on. If the fear of their parents' rejection had also kept his older brother from telling them about his sexuality all these years. 

Having suffered from bouts of anxiety himself, he knew the signs. While Charlie was doing a fairly accurate impression of his usual detached, cool demeanor there was a slight stiffness to his stance, a tightness in his smile which kept his eyes from crinkling at the corners, his laugh a little too loud. 

This needed to be done in his own time, and if it ended up that he just couldn't find the words over the dinner table then he would be there for him. Offering support and encouragement until he felt ready to try again. He knew from personal experience that it often took more than one attempt to tell the Weasleys something personal.

"Hey!" he called out to the twins who were struggling to get the cutlery in the correct spots without nearly taking off his appendages in the process. "I need all of my fingers to write my reports with. I can't afford a trip to St. Mungos this close to my bid for Minister of Transportation being announced."

Unlike most of their counterparts at Hogwarts, the novelty of magic had never worn off for those two. Preferring to avoid manual labor, whenever possible, no matter how small the task. 

Huffing, Fred settled him with his best glare, wand twirling around his short, freckled fingers. “No need to fret; oh, brother dearest-”

"We will be sure to aim for your left fingers," George promised. "You only need your right hand to draft your glorious reports on cauldron bottoms-"

"He doesn't write about cauldron bottoms anymore," Harry supplied helpfully from where he was leaned back in one of the rickety chairs, hands behind his head and surveying the scene with a barely contained glee. 

Ginny nodded along, looking up briefly from her conversation with Fleur and Hermione. "That's right. Now he writes about burned bottoms from people who attempted to floo into lit fireplaces which weren't hooked up properly to the network."

"Burned bottoms!" Oliver's booming laugh pulled him out of his story. "You know, your siblings can be rather entertaining at times." 

He moaned low in his throat, tipping his head back against the sofa to look pleadingly at the ceiling as though there would be something to help him up there as he listened to Oliver's hysterical laughter in his ear. "Merlin save me-"

"Oh come on now Perce," Oliver pleaded with him, his snorts becoming further spread out as he tried to calm himself back down. "You have to admit the mental image of someone trying to floo into a chimney only to find their bottom being singed by roaring flames just a bit funny. Remember- remember when Justin was trying for his apparition license- the first time that is, considering it took him seven tries- and he ended up in some old muggle woman's fireplace and the Ministry had to alter the memories of her and her card buddies. Walked around with a limp for a week while he healed- remember?"

"I remember," he muttered darkly, as one of the prefects in their year he had been tasked with helping carry Justin's stuff to class while the Ravenclaw boy used his newly acquired injury to get extensions on his homework as well as wiggle out of prefect rounds. The only professors who seemed to catch onto his antics were McGonagall and Snape, both of whom assured him that writing essays could be done while lying on his stomach if sitting for long periods of time proved difficult. 

Oliver continued on with an air of lightness, completely oblivious to his internal musings. "I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if I were you. Would probably be fired on the spot considering that I couldn't even make a proper report on account of me laughing so hard. You get a lot of witches and wizards that find themselves with a red little bum from such a mishap? Do you have a policy for if they have the unfortunate experience of their pants being on fire?"

He coughed a laugh into his fist, hoping the sound was muffled enough that Oliver would mistake it for an annoyed scoff. While he would never admit it to them his department also got quite the chuckle from filling out paperwork for such an incidence, rare though they may be. Usually reserved for someone who married into a muggle family and didn't understand the concept of floo networks not being a universal experience. "As I informed my siblings... burned bottoms account for nearly .08% of all floo network related injuries. It won't be so funny when you are laid up in St. Mungos on your stomach while a healer rubs salve all over your naked arse."

"I wouldn't mind that...," Oliver began in an off-handed manner, while he couldn't see the man's face he could practically hear the grin growing until it finally reached ear to ear. "Especially if I got to have you as my personal healer-"

"Oliver!" he hissed rather harshly, grimacing as the man had the audacity to giggle at his outburst. "You're just as bad as Charlie and the rest of them."

He couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain he heard a small chuckle from the other end of the line. "What did Charlie say?"

"He mentioned that if I ever suffered such an unfortunate turn of events, you might be perfectly willing to rub some salve on my bare bottom. Then Fred and George followed his observation up with some alternative uses for your broom polishing rag and chaffing cream."

Oliver hummed to himself, seemingly thinking over the suggestion with serious consideration. "They might be onto something..."

"Do you want to sit here and talk about a figurative injury, or do you want to find out how my evening with the family went?" he asked, taking a large sip of his wine and smacking his lips in appreciation, just what he needed to fully unwind after a Weasley family dinner. 

"Fine, fine," Oliver conceded with a small huff. "We can talk about the potential for the two us rubbing each other's bums later. Finish with your story."

A smile pulled at his lips, eyes shining with desire. It made a rather enticing image in his head, Oliver lying on the leather couch, that firm bottom of his on full display while he rubbed various salves on him, feeling those rippling muscles with his fingers. He couldn't spend time thinking about that right now though, it wouldn't do him any good since Oliver wasn't even currently in the same country as him. 

All it would do was cause his heart to constrict and a deep ache to spread from his chest throughout his body. Best to just give a small shake of his head and move forward as though he weren't considering taking Oliver up on his idea for a bit of quality time between the two of them. 

Perhaps in a few weeks they could revisit the discussion topic...

The kitchen table was finally set and dinner made, mismatched chairs were added to the mix and everyone squeezed into the small space. While his family often drove him to the brink of madness, it was mealtimes that he missed the most when at Hogwarts or during the years after graduation. The bickering and bantering back and forth which often resembled more of a practiced art form than anything else, everyone talking over each other, elbows knocking together while passing various dishes around the table.

This felt like home for the first time in a very long time.

His dad was telling everyone about a muggle device he was investigating, probing Harry and Hermione as always for information regarding the function and the mechanics for how it all worked. Fred and George were filling everyone in on a new idea for a store product and calling for any willing participants while their mum chided them for offering such a thing in front of Mona, who hadn't yet learned to not take anything the twins offered her. Fleur was chatting with Angelina and Ginny about what sort of decor she should do for the baby's nursery, her mother-in-law chiming in with offers to let her look through the attic for any furniture from when she raised her brood of seven. Harry was chattering to Charlie and Ron regarding a particularly exciting case he had been helping with which involved dragon smuggling, the three of them elbowing each other while giggling about something involving a Norbert and the astronomy tower at Hogwarts (he wasn't going to ask because he knew better than that by now). Hermione was doing her best to ignore the three of them but based on her cheeks slightly tinging pink he assumed she was also involved in whatever sort of shenanigans occurred. Poor Bill was fending off their mum, who was making it her life's mission to finally get her eldest son to trim his long hair under the guise of setting an example for his unborn child.  

He wisely stayed out of the verbal sparring, sitting in his designated seat while watching the proceedings as though he were witnessing a backyard game of Quidditch- if Quidditch involved the twins throwing rolls at Ron who dared offer his opinion on their new idea for a product with Ginny joining in, claiming she needed to practice her aim for next year so she could single-handedly bring about the demise of Puddlemere United and maybe even make Oliver cry. Their mum and dad yelling over everyone else at the table for their children to settle down and quit wasting food. 

It was as though nothing had changed. 

"As if!" Oliver's affronted cry startled him so badly he nearly dropped his glass of wine. "You sister might be a talented Quidditch player, but I have several years of experience on her. Besides, I would never cry about losing a Quidditch match, even if it was to your sister's team."

The audacity of that man to act as if he wasn't the single most overdramatic individual in all of Great Britain. Rolling his eyes at Oliver's annoyed huffs as he scoffed out, "Never?"

"That was one time Percy! One time!" Oliver argued, the volume of his voice dropping as he realized he was practically screaming into the phone. "I had a lot going on in my personal life and the pressure simply got to me. You caught me at a bad time."

He sat up so suddenly a few drops of wine sloshed onto his sweatshirt, waving his wand with flourish to vanish the stain before it could set in. "I caught you sitting in the Gryffindor locker room shower with your full Quidditch uniform on! Face turned upwards towards the water so you could simply drown in it. Your overdramatics cost you a raging cold, which you were too stubborn to go to Pomfrey about until I dragged you up to the infirmary. After that your melancholy attitude lasted several weeks, even Fred and George were starting to get worried about your mental state. Now that is saying something-"

Oliver huffed out an affronted sigh. "I will admit to sitting in the shower stall, but I wasn't crying. What you were witnessing was something I like to call water dripping down my face. A common occurrence when one has been sitting in a shower with their face pointed upwards."

"Now you know good and well that it wasn't just water dripping from your red rimmed eyes. You were crying when I came to check on you, mainly from concern for Harry and how you couldn't get to him in time and a little bit because your dream of winning the Quidditch cup was dashed in your mind. Which by the way, you did still achieve, even if you did moan and groan at all hours of the day and night about the doom and gloom of your life for months on end."

"Fine!" Oliver muttered, a final annoyed puff of air escaping what sounded like his nose. "It's not like I never had to practically carry you out of the library at two in the morning during exams or anything simply because you wouldn't stop obsessively studying, even though everyone knew that you practically had the textbooks memorized. Certainly, never had to pull you out of a downward spiral because Merlin forbid you received an E on an assignment instead of an O. Or that one time you had a panic attack because I convinced you to come with me to get a midnight snack from the kitchens and we literally ran into McGonagall on our way back to the dorm, instead of following my lead and pretending to sleepwalk you froze up then started to hyperventilate when she mentioned the word 'detention'. But none of that matters now, water under the bridge as the muggles say. I concede, you, in all of your infinite and infallible wisdom, are 100% correct. I would in fact probably shed a few tears if that little gremlin you call a sister were to ever get enough Quaffles past me to ensure that we lost our match. I might even reclaim my spot on the shower floor if the loss were large enough or kept us from advancing towards the league cup. Might just stay there for a few days if I so felt like it-"

He felt a fond smile coming on despite himself, knowing that he would be lying if he denied that he had in fact missed these little moments between them. Even if Oliver could ramble on as he was prone to do. "Are you done with your little rant?"

"Yes," Oliver hissed out. "Please, finish with your story."

"Allright-" he settled back down against the couch cushions. "Glad that little dispute is settled. Now where was I?"

"I have something to tell all of you," Charlie announced to the gaggle of redheads, with a few others sprinkled in, gathered around the table, wincing as everyone turned to look at him. "Tonks and I are not together."

He shot his older brother a wondrous look before beaming, putting a steadying hand on his arm. Were it him he would never have had the guts to be so direct regarding what was weighing on his mind. Probably would have taken him quite a few false starts were it not for the Daily Prophet beating him to the punch regarding his supposed relationship with Oliver.

"We sort of figured dear," his mum said, pausing in her own meal to give Charlie a small smile from across the table. "While I certainly hoped you might eventually fall for her, she is such a lovely woman, I also knew that if it were meant to happen then it would have already. Is she seeing anyone?"

"Yes-" Charlie started to explain, abruptly cut off by the squeals from several people as they all leaned forward to better listen to the conversation. 

"Oh, how wonderful!"

"Let her know that we have her back if her new partner doesn't live up to our expectations."

"Always knew she would get tired of waiting around for your ugly mug."

"Who?" Ginny prodded curiously, avoiding the amused gazes of Bill and Fleur who still remembered her impassioned attempts to set Tonks and Bill up when they were all stuck at Grimmauld Place together. Something he had to hear about second hand considering he wasn't exactly in the picture to witness his sister's meddling first-hand. 

Charlie arched a brow at his family, seemingly bewhildered at how well the change of topic was being received. "Her girlfriend's name is Aria. I used to work with her at the dragon sanctuary and introduced the two of them. They have been together for about six months or so now, she was just waiting for me to be the one to break the news."

"Oh, how lovely. Well, I certainly hope that Tonks knows she is always welcome. Aria as well," his mum said. "Don't worry dear, you will find a nice girl to settle down with eventually."

"Or a nice man," their dad amended gently. 

His mum turned towards her husband giving him a small nod, a warm smile on her face as she turned back towards her children with a slight blush to her cheeks at her slip in not being inclusive towards the array of partners her children might bring home. "Of course, a nice girl or man. Whatever makes you happy, dear. That's what your father and I want, all of our children to be happy."

"Well, I have sort of been meaning to talk to you guys about that," Charlie cleared his throat, suddenly his nerves at the situation were on full display. Beneath the table his feet were tapping against the floor and his hands were wringing together. "Um- you see- I uh- I don't really think that I want to be in a relationship-"

"No pressure, son," his dad assured. "Your mum and I married young, but we understand that your generation might not want to jump into marriage and children fresh out of Hogwarts. Not that there is anything wrong with that."

His mum nodded her agreement with her husband's statement, casting a proud look around the table as she surveyed her children. "You will find someone to settle down with eventually. You always were such a handsome boy, won't have any issues at all. You are a Weasley after all, you inherited those good looks or yours."

"It's more than just that. I identify as aromantic and asexual, often called aro/ace for short," Charlie explained, clarifying further when his parents just sat and stared at him with blank expressions. "They are spectrums. Not everyone who identifies as aro/ace experiences attraction in the same way. I fall at the end where I don't really feel any romantic or sexual attraction for anyone, regardless of their gender identity."

"You don't feel love?" Ron blurted out, yelping when Mona shoved her elbow into the side of his abdomen and settled him with a glare. His younger brother remained completely oblivious, mouthing something at his girlfriend which looked an awful lot like, 'what'd you do that for?'

Charlie didn't seem to take offense to Ron's question, just gave a kind smile and patiently continued to explain. "I feel love. Well, I feel different versions of love. I love my family, my friends, my colleagues. I just have never, and will never, feel any sort of inclination to have a romantic love for someone."

"Aren't you worried that you might get-" George faltered for a moment, looking to Angelina or Fred to finish his sentence. 

As they normally did when together, Fred jumped right in with the word that seemed to escape George at the moment. "Lonely?"

Charlie shook his head, looking far more at ease now that he saw his family wasn't necessarily objecting to his news. "Not at all. I have tons of deep, meaningful friendships, while they will always stay platonic in nature, I don't mind. That is all that I really need. Just my dragons, my friends, and my family."

"Are you certain you aren't being a bit hasty just giving up on love, dear?" his mum proceeded cautiously, speaking slowly as though she were carefully choosing each word. "I would hate to see you walk away from the possibility of finding someone just because you haven't met them yet."

"I'm not 'giving up on love'," Charlie insisted with an air of authority which would have rivaled any head boy at Hogwarts. "I am certain of this. I'm aro/ace. Always have been and always will be."

His mum and dad looked at each other, a silent conversation had with nothing but their eyes as the rest of them waiting with bated breath. This was going to go one of two ways, either they were about to ruin dinner or those books they had been reading were about to be put to good use. "You're right, dear," his mum amended, giving Charlie a sad sort of smile. "You know yourself best. If you say that you are... what was it again? Aro/ace? Then that is what you are. Your father and I support you."

"The whole family does," Ginny interjected, reaching out for Charlie's hand so she could grasp it in her own. "You're our brother, anyone gives you any grief about not wanting to be tied down like the rest of us to a romantic partner and we will take care of them."

"At the rate we are all going," Bill paused to beam at Fleur, who smiled sweetly back at him while placing both hands lovingly on her belly which would begin to show the signs of life in another few weeks or so. "We will have plenty of nieces and nephews who will be more than thrilled to listen to their uncle Charlie's stories of working with dragons. Maybe even taking some trips down so you can show them the ropes."

He took Charlie's other hand as well, the rest of his siblings standing up to offer their support as well. "We're Weasleys. If there is one thing we know how to do, it is stick together."

The shouts of agreement and fist bumping among his siblings and their significant others echoed his sentiments. The growing grin on Charlie's face spread to his own as their mum and dad gave them all tearful hugs, assuring all of them of how loved they truly were. 

They were Weasleys 

They would take this one day at a time. 

They were going to be ok.

He was going to be ok. 

He inhaled slowly, then let out a deep sigh before lowering the phone away from his ear for a few seconds. While Charlie's coming out had gone well, compared to the disaster which was his own announcement to being gay, it still left him with a sense of sadness that he couldn't quite overcome. 

When he first left his family before the war began, days and weeks went by and he pretended he was fine to the outside world, while crying himself to sleep every night. Never happy, at times content perhaps, but even that feeling became less and less frequent as the years dragged on. 

It became the new normal. 

Sadness. 

Desperation.

Loneliness.

Self-loathing.

All kept buried deep inside him. While the mask he wore daily suggested he had his life together, that he had moved on past his mistakes and utilized the lessons learned to better himself- that was far from the truth. 

He was falling apart. 

Piece by crumbling piece. 

Oliver seemed to catch on that he was overcome with emotion because when he did speak it was softly, "You good, Perce?"

He could practically feel his heart in his throat, on the verge of pouring his soul out to Oliver. Lifting the phone back to his ear he took a sharp intake of breath before croaking out, "yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it," Oliver asked kindly. "You don't have to if you don't want to. We can sit in silence for a bit if that is what you need right now. If I weren't stuck in Germany, I would put a kettle on and make you some nice hot tea, just the way you like it."

He blinked, eyes wet and let out a shuddering exhale, desperately trying not to cry twice in a twenty-four hour period. "I'm thinking about going to therapy," he blurted out with a wince, having planned to ease into that little tidbit of news far more eloquently and with a bit more confidence. 

"What brought on this revelation?" Oliver asked, obviously trying to hide his surprise at this sudden revelation. 

"Charlie," he replied. "When we out shopping for groceries today he mentioned having started therapy again and found it helpful. Considering that most of the people I know are also going to or have been in therapy I thought it might help. Penny also, she has been touting the benefits of therapy and prioritizing her mental health. She likes to tell me the things she has learned and give pointers for how I can apply it in my own life."

Oliver made a small, supportive grunt of agreement. "I think it's a fantastic idea. I put off therapy for months before I finally caved and made an appointment. I brought Simone with me, helped to have someone wait with me to keep the jitters at bay. It was a bit awkward at first, talking to someone about such private issues but ultimately has ended up being one of the best decisions I could have made. It's nice to have someone to just listen without any judgement or unhelpful remarks."

That was exactly what he needed, someone who would simply listen to him. Not judge him for his social anxiety, tendency to overthink every little thing he did or said, analyze every interaction he had with others, and his assumption that all issues were his ultimately his fault. 

He also needed someone to keep him from self-sabotaging his budding relationship.

Things had been going well between him and Oliver. 

He wanted them to remain trending that way. 

He also knew that he was waiting for the shoe to drop. 

For Oliver to realize that he wasn't worth all of this effort he was putting in. 

"Glad to know you approve."

He did feel relieved that Oliver was on board with the decision. While he figured the man would be, considering he was also in therapy, there was always the possibility he would have objected. Claimed that he really didn't have anything to be upset about. 

At least nothing which wasn't mostly of his making. 

"I do," Oliver assured him. "Kind of glad you came to this decision on your own. Saves me a rather awkward conversation where I gently suggest that you go see a therapist." 

"Gee thanks," he muttered. "Glad to know my dysfunction is so apparent."

Oliver's voice softened. "Seriously Percy, I was worried about you. I know how it is to have debilitating nightmares. Spent quite a few nights curled up on the bathroom floor. I just hate to think of you going through all of that alone. Especially with the anniversary looming. Lot of memories, most of which would be better left buried in our subconscious. I can only imagine how it is for you... all those years at the Ministry. Working for deatheaters and having to walk on eggshells every day, pretend to be something you weren't."

He couldn't be angry with Oliver, not when he was so sweet and caring. "I made my choices; I now have to live with the consequences."

"Honestly," Oliver huffed out. "For the last time, you were eighteen years old-" Oliver paused for a second, seemingly to stop himself from going off on a rant about how the fight with his parents wasn't as one sided as he often believed. "Perce, you keep hanging onto all of that regret and fairly soon you are going to have to upgrade to a two-bedroom flat just to have somewhere to house it."

His body relaxed at the attempt of a joke, tilting his head down for a second before offering Oliver a sheepish reply. "I could never afford such an extravagant place with the current rent prices." 

"Exactly. Why let it force you out of that cozy one-bedroom flat? You keep going at this rate and I am going to have to send it a birthday card every year complete with balloons and a cake."

"I get your point, and my regret rather enjoys chocolate cake if you are ever so inclined," he joked flatly, the corners of his mouth turned up a little when he heard Oliver chuckle warmly with a sincerity that only he could master.

"I will remember that for our impending date. What sort of flowers does your regret fancy?" Oliver asked. "I will bring it some as a parting gift."

He snorted, taking a sip of the wine as he listened to the rainstorm just outside the window. The constant pitter patter of the drops against the windowpane having a calming effect upon him as he settled against the cushions and adjusted the blanket around his legs. "Daffodils."

There was a rather large difference between doing something in theory and putting it into practice. 

A distinction he was uncomfortably aware of at the moment as he sat with Ginny in the waiting room of his new therapist's office which had the appearance of the lobby of St. Mungos trying to be a bit more homely. Same off-white walls, speckled tile floor, and sparse generic art in muted colors. He assumed it was to try and distract people from the fact they were in a medical setting, though the smell of disinfectant right as they walked in would alert anyone as to their whereabouts. It could be worse though; he had seen muggle movies and would have turned right around if there were any sort of motivational quotes plastered about or if he felt like he was walking into some sort of long-term care ward. 

All in all, the waiting room really wasn't horrible, at least the chairs were comfortable, and he had remembered to bring his own reading material so he wouldn't be reduced to browsing through Witch Weekly. Though, he was tempted as he had heard from several reliable sources that there were some rather nice pictures of himself and Oliver snogging on the Quidditch pitch.  

His original plan had been to wait until after the May 2nd memorial obligations to the Ministry and his family, but as soon as he mentioned the idea to Penny on Monday morning she was already calling up her own therapist's office to get him the earliest appointment available. Unfortunately for him there just happened to be a last minute cancellation and they could see him the next day for his initial meeting, well, maybe not unfortunately. He tended to want to just get things over with as soon as humanly possible, he just wished that he could do them in the order he originally planned on. 

Penny had offered to come with him, but he knew she would be a bit too... empathetic for his liking. What he needed was someone who would not sit next to him and lament on all the wonderful benefits to finally making his own mental health a priority or glance at him every few seconds to ensure he was ok. That left two people who were available last minute, Ginny or George. 

He ended up choosing Ginny in case he needed someone to sit him down by a crackling fire afterwards and let him have a good cry, also she wouldn't ask any questions if he ended up running out of here in a fit of indecision. She would be right behind him, throwing curses over her shoulders if needed. Having already decided that at the first utterance of how he needed to focus more on the good things in his life, appreciate the little victories- that he would be finding another therapist. Considering how desperately alone he felt at any given point what he wanted was for someone besides Penny and Oliver to listen and reassure him that his feelings regarding the lingering regrets from the war and his family were valid.

All he really wanted was to no longer feel empty- hollow.

"Percy Weasley," a tall, thin middle-aged woman with shoulder length blond hair called out, looking around the room until they made eye contact and he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Come on back."

He scrambled to his feet, fear rendering him temporarily incapable of doing anything other than giving Ginny a wild-eyed blink while remaining frozen in place. "You can do this," she whispered to him, placing a gently hand on his arm and giving him a reassuring squeeze. He could only nod dumbly before allowing himself to be led down the hall and into the office, the door clicking closed and shutting them in.

In a desperate attempt to try and keep his nerves to himself now that he was in the room, he found himself looking around for something to focus on. The walls were painted a muted sage green, expensive looking bookshelves lined the wall behind the desk with a multitude of volumes ranging in topics along with several antique paintings and other knickknacks. Pictures of what he assumed were the woman's husband and children were sparsely scattered about, though he couldn't really judge that particular detail. If it were him, he wouldn't have too many personal details in his office for complete strangers to gawk at. He did approve of the books, making a note to ask about a few of them once they got through a few sessions.

“My name is Ella Price, and I will be your therapist. Lovely to meet you,” she said as she sat down in one of the chairs, gesturing to the plethora of seats in an invitation for him to sit as well. Glancing around for a moment he decided on an overstuffed chair which looked quite comfortable. Mumbling a greeting in return he waited for her to continue, opting to hide his shaking hands under his thighs so she wouldn't inquire about his anxiety surrounding the appointment. "You may call me Dr. Price or Ella, whichever you prefer. Do you go by Percy?"

He nodded dumbly in response to her question, realizing that his mouth was hanging slightly open when he felt his tongue starting to go dry. Not the sort of first impression he generally cared to make, especially to someone he would likely be seeing regularly for quite a few months. 

It wasn’t a singular anxious thought that was pervading him, more of a combination of several different issues which all just kept compounding throughout the years. Leading to a generalized unsettled feeling growing stronger and stronger. Whatever was about to happen, whatever information he was about to learn about himself over the next few months, all of it was beyond his control - and that was enough to cause him to wish he could run out of this room screaming. 

"What I like to do during our first session is simply get to know each other a bit," his new therapist continued after a prolonged silence. "Why don't we start with what you do for work."

Thankful that Penny recommended him to a therapist's office which consisted of people familiar with the wizarding world so he didn't have to invent a fake backstory or simply omit the main reason he was sitting in this seat- the war. "I work at the Ministry- department of transportation."

"How long have you worked at the Ministry?"

"Since I was seventeen and just out of Hogwarts," he didn't elaborate, didn't really need to. Knowing that she would have his birthdate and age, she could do the math herself and figure out the unspoken important bits of information. She was a witch so she would have seen the Daily Prophet, would probably recognize his picture- the right-hand man of Fudge and then Scrimgeour. 

"Any particular reason for the department of transportation?"

He settled into the chair, making himself a bit more comfortable. Thankful she was currently sticking to safe questions. "I come from a long line of Quidditch fanatics, if my brothers and sister weren't in the air flying about or thinking about flying then they were never truly happy. I was always more interested in the broomstick, how it worked and thinking up ways to improve the efficiency of my siblings while they were zooming through the air. Studying the history of how the modern broomstick evolved and all of the charms which go into ensuring it is safe for humans to ride. They never really wanted to hear about my ideas nor anything regarding the theories behind Quidditch tactics- I was never one for simply talking about which team I thought would make it to the finals or who was likely to be traded on the professional teams. My dormmate though, he is also my best mate and was made Quidditch captain in his fourth year, he would always listen. He always asked for my help when trying to figure out the strategy for Gryffindor's bid for the house cup. He and I also would come up with diagrams for brooms after we were finished with our homework and he would patiently listen to all of my ideas and the things I was learning from my extra-curricular reading-" he stopped suddenly, giving a small cough as his cheeks-tinged pink upon the realization that he had spiraled into how wonderful and supportive Oliver had always been. "When I was picking which department I wanted to work in after the final battle, I suppose that is why I chose the department of transportation. My love of figuring out how broomsticks are able to fly and ways to increase their safety and efficiency."

As he was talking the therapist had a quick quill scratching in the background, the sound a pleasant one to his ears. Reminding him of late nights spent at the Ministry and study sessions in the library or by the roaring fire in the common room. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Six- five brothers and one sister."

The only indication his therapist gave was a slight raising of her eyebrows. He knew that in both the wizarding and muggle world having seven children was considered a bit odd. "Sounds like your parents had their hands full. Are you towards the older of the seven children or the youngest?"

"Oldest. I have two brothers ahead of me and then the others are younger. There's five years between me and my oldest sibling, Bill. Three years between me and Charlie. Two years between me and the twins, Fred and George. Four years between me and Ron. Five years between me and Ginny."

The quill continued to scratch as his therapist gave a nod, her expression remaining neutral. "Tell me a bit about your relationship with your siblings. You mentioned earlier that they were not supportive of your interests regarding learning the mechanics behind broomsticks."

He gave an audible sigh, disappointed that he wasn't going to escape the touch questions after all. Such was therapy he supposed- unfortunately him talking about nothing but broomstick design and Oliver would not get rid of the recurring nightmares- the hollowness that threatened to swallow him whole at times. "Strained- I mean- we're siblings. So, strained but in a sibling sort of way. They care about me I'm sure, deep down but- just- maybe they don't always show it."

"What about your relationship with your parents. Is that strained as well?"

He averted his eyes to the floor. "Yes- well, it was at one point- maybe not anymore. Recently we have been doing better, but I am not sure how long that will all last. They were supportive of my career at one point- until they weren't. Lately though, it all does seem to be evening itself out. Though- I just don't know how long the relationship will remain unstrained-"

"Is the relationship with your parents truly unstrained now?" 

"Well, no," he admitted as he continued to study the floor, uncomfortably shuffling his feet and scuffing his shoes against the Turkish rug. His mouth was dry with the absence of words and his mind heavy with too many thoughts. "I suppose not. It's just- someone once told me that I couldn't work towards rebuilding the relationship that I once had with my parents and family in general before the trust was broken. That I needed to lay the groundwork towards building a new relationship with them- a stronger one. It's just- I still don't know the rules. 

"The breaking of trust is often not as one sided as people would like to believe," she said. "Have any of your family members spoken of the part they played? Taken ownership for their mistakes?" 

In the years past he would have lied- insisted that he was the sole issue, the only one who could blame placed upon their shoulders. However, Oliver's voice sounded in his ear as he sat in silence for the span of a few breaths. Reminding him that he was imminent danger of having a permanent flat mate who never paid rent- at the current rate of inflation in central London he wasn't sure he could financially or emotionally carry that particular burden for much longer. While not quite ready for an eviction- he supposed he could at least give his guilt a notice to find other accommodations. "No, they haven't."

"I see," she gave a slight tip of her chin. "Have you at least tried to make amends."

"Yes," he mumbled sadly, feeling the weight of his parents' rejections of his repeated apologies and attempts to find some common ground. "For nearly three years now." 

"Do you want to pursue repairing the relationships with your family?"

His knee-jerk reaction was to insist that of course he wanted to repair the relationship with his family, as any good former golden child would want to. His brief fall from a grace a mere blimp, something they could all look back on in a few years and just shake their heads at. Poor misguided Percy who, in his younger years, got a bit lost but eventually came to his senses and fought alongside his family, helped save the wizarding world and was instrumental in the repair post war. 

The question was did he want to have a relationship with his family members currently?

Never having really given the subject much consideration he faltered for a moment before slowly nodding his head. "I think I do."

"Boundaries are important, even with family members," his therapist said, carefully monitoring his reaction to her suggestion. It was one he heard before, from Oliver nonetheless, who probably heard it from his own therapist. "If you want to pursue mending the relationship with your family then we can certainly discuss healthy strategies for achieving such a goal moving forward. This is a nice segue into talking a bit about what your goals for therapy are."

He glanced at the clock, surprised to find the hour long session was already over. After figuring out a few specific goals for therapy and briefly going over some of the main pressure points which led him to seek help in the first place their conversation had lapsed back into his job at the Ministry. A topic he could speak for hours upon and found his therapist could help him manage his doubts regarding his qualifications for the position as well as his anxiety at moving up the ladder and how he would be perceived. 

A definite benefit to being in therapy if there ever was one. 

His therapist suggested they see each other weekly for a while and then assess if the schedule needed to be altered after a few months or so. Bidding Dr. Price goodby he stopped by the receptionist's desk on his way out to schedule his follow-up appointment schedule. 

The trip back to the lobby of the building was quick and quiet, he and Ginny standing side by side as the lift counted down the floors until the final ding where they could step out onto the tiled floor leading towards the exit. 

He was left with an odd sensation, as though day hadn’t already passed by the only apparent passage of time was the light from the sky coming through the double doors at the end of the hallway. The bright afternoon sun morphing into the muted warm colors of the setting sun along the horizon. 

Lighter- he determined after some internal deliberation. He definitely felt lighter than he had an hour ago. While he wouldn't go so far as to say he no longer felt the weight of the world and his family's expectations of him sitting on his shoulders he could at least feel a slight sense of relief. As though there was somebody else beside him now, helping him to bear the burden. 

Ginny paused at the doorway leading to the sidewalk, looking at him over her shoulder in a curious fashion. "You going to be ok?"

"Yeah," he smiled at his sister, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "I think I will be."

Chapter Text

"Out of the ruins and rubble. Out of the smoke. Out of our night of struggle, can we see a ray of hope? One pale thin ray reaching for the day... We can build a beautiful city, not a city of angels but we can build a city of men. We may not reach the ending, but we can start slowly but truly mending. Brick by brick. Heart by heart. Now, maybe now we start learning how." Godspell- Beautiful City

It was no easier walking into Hogwarts today than it had been one year ago. 

Though the dust and ashes which settled over the ruins of the castle had long since been swept away, whispers of ghosts buried beneath the rubble still haunted the grounds as he walked quietly down the hallways lined with mended stone and strengthened wards. 

Memories blurred until they were nothing more than smoke, grasping at the dark corners of his mind as he tried to recall certain portions of the castle which were not permanently clouded with death and destruction. 

The room of requirement where he showed up unexpectedly, worried he was too late and missed the opportunity to make amends with his family. Atone for his past mistakes. The corridor where he watched as Fred took a curse to the heart before collapsing to the ground in a heap. The front steps of the castle where they stood as Hagrid carried what they believed to be the lifeless body of Harry Potter, their savior, the one hope they had of the senseless war finally coming to an end. 

The Great Hall, where the dead and dying were placed. Their still forms draped in white fabric as those who loved them mourned for a brief moment before having to return to the ongoing fight or aide in the efforts to find anyone who might still be injured.

That was what he saw in his mind's eye as he paused in the familiar arched doorway.

Not the enchanted ceiling above, showing the briskly cold but sunny morning they were graced with for the memorial service. Not the stained-glass windows on either side of the hall, depicting the portraits of the founders of Hogwarts as well as selected scenes from the history of the wizarding world. Not the long wooden tables, removed in lieu of chairs to seat the current students and staff of Hogwarts along with guests. Not the familiar faces as he scanned the crowd. 

Bodies. 

Lives, actually. He supposed what bothered him the most was each person who had been laid on a cot with a sheet draped over them had ambitions, dreams, plans for the future. All snuffed short. Died while fighting for something they believed in. 

Died protecting the very halls they once walked down to get to their next class, the common rooms where they spent their free time, their friends, their family, their future. 

A future they would never get to experience. 

A future they deserved far more than him. 

Taking a deep breath, he tucked the medal dangling around his neck which identified him as one of the ones who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts into his shirt. Best to keep that out of sight, for now at least.  

He needed to pull himself together. Stay focused for the ceremony and somehow manage to trudge through this terrible day. 

Finding his friends, Flora and Penelope, in the sea of people, he gave a quick wave of acknowledgment and made his way towards the small group. Brushing the specks of invisible soot off his thin shoulders, he adjusted his finest shirt just freshly pressed, and straightened his silk tie until it lined up perfectly with the buttons running down the center of his shirt. He had chosen both of those items to perfectly compliment his favorite black suit, having added in his lucky gold cufflinks at the last moment. Figuring today of all days he might need a little extra help. His hair was slicked back so not a single strand was out of place and his newly tailored dress robes were draped elegantly around him, just barely floating over the stone floor as was suggested by The Gentleman's Guide to Wizarding Society. 

It was imperative he looked his absolute best today as he was part of both the people who fought in the battle as well as representing the Ministry. Having decided days ago that just because he was a crumbling mess on the inside, he did not have an excuse to appear disheveled in public. He like to think himself having just a bit more pride than to be caught no looking his best. 

"You good?" Flora whispered to him as they took their seats. 

Penelope, who was sitting on his other side, put her arm around his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. The two of them were a bit more moved by today's memorial than Flora. While she was a Hogwarts alum and worked for the Ministry during Fudge's term as Minister, she and her family left on an extended holiday to New Zealand when Scrimgeour became Minister. Her parents remembered the first war and decided they didn't like the way things were going. At times he wished they had known each other back then, perhaps he could have been spared a lot of heartache. "Yeah," he croaked out, ignoring the disbelieving looks of his two friends.

"There's Blair," Flora scoffed, settling back against the chair and tapping her fingers together as she always did when she was about to engage in gossip with him. While he generally tried to stay away from being the focus of the gossip rings, he rather enjoyed knowing all of the Ministry drama. "Since she couldn't put in an application for Minister of Transportation, she has decided Julia is the best choice for the job. Look at her, dragging that poor woman around as though they are on the campaign trail and not at a memorial service. I would be positively terrified if Blair had her claws on her."

"She needs to learn when not to stick her or Rita Skeeter's big nose into other people's relationships," Penny glared in the direction of the woman in question when she received nods of agreement. 

While he wasn't necessarily thrilled his little plan for fake dating a famous Quidditch player was put in jeopardy of coming to a crashing halt, he couldn't argue with the results. He had an excuse to see Oliver more often and the whole fiasco led to the two of them having a sort of reconciliation of the past. Not that he was ready to run up to Blair and pull her into a hug, thanking her profusely for allowing him a second chance with the man he never quite got over. 

If she would simply leave him alone then he would do the same, they could co-exist somewhat happily. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be Blair's plan. 

"Weasley," Blair's sickly-sweet voice made him want to run headfirst through a stain glass window. "Do you know Julia?"

"We have worked together for the past two years or so," he stated, trying desperately to keep an even tone. "I believe we have met."

The slightly pink tinge to Blair's cheeks was the only indication she realized she should have started the introduction a bit differently. "She is going to try for her shot at being the next Minister of Transportation."

"I'm aware. Best of luck to you."

"You too-" Julia started to say in a friendly tone of voice, cut off with a sharp jab in the arm from Blair's elbow and a withering look. "I- I suppose we should go find our seats?"

Blair gave a toss of her long brown hair over one shoulder, putting an arm around her personal pick for Minister of Transportation as she led her off to go find two empty seats in the hall which was quickly filling up with people. "Tell Oliver congratulations on his win," Blair called out over her shoulder. "Though, he will need to really work on that defense before he plays the Arrows. There's no way he would be a match for their superb team of chasers."

"Oh, I'll tell her something," Penny sneered, her hand flexing as it hovered near her hair where she kept her want tucked into her updo. "I'll tell her exactly what she can do with her defense when I corner her in one of the deserted corridors and hex her into oblivion. I could do it to- I was always a whiz at Charms." 

He often forgot how terrifying his seemingly sweet friend could be. It was the blonde hair and bookish personality, lulled everyone into a false sense of security. Ravenclaws were a bit short tempered and highly intelligent, a truly horrible combination when you were their target. "Just promise me you'll wait to hex her until after the promotion is decided. I can't afford any accusations of sabotage."

"No promises on that," Flora muttered, rolling her eyes as they watched Blair introduce a mortified looking Julia to some current students who looked highly confused but shook her hand regardless. Probably fearing that they should somehow know her, or she was one of the guests being honored today. "I know a few people who would likely give Penny a promotion if she could take Blair down a peg or two."

The two women reached around him to high-five each other, settling back into their seats with expressions of smug satisfaction. 

This was going to be a long day; he could feel it in his bones. 

Headmistress McGonagall stood at the head of the room, a hushed silence falling over everyone as photographers rushed to capture the beginning of the memorial ceremony. When she spoke her voice was firm, without the hint of emotion he was certain was brewing beneath her usual stern demeaner. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. On behalf of the staff, Ministry board, as well as the former and current students of Hogwarts, I want to thank all of you for coming to the second anniversary of what is now known as the Battle of Hogwarts," his former transfiguration professor briefly paused for a smattering of applause. "I would like to introduce our first speaker of the morning, Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt." 

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood slowly, his head was bare as always, and he wore an earring in his left ear, a crystal shard. Raising both arms draped in rich blue robes, a nod towards his own days at Hogwarts as a Ravenclaw prefect, towards the crowd. 

"Today we gather to celebrate what was won on May 2, 1998; but also, to remember what was lost," Minister Shacklebolt began his speech, his tone one of appropriate reverence for the occasion. "Many in this room remember that fateful evening. Voldemort's approaching army of deatheaters, the evacuation of the students who were not old enough to make the decision to stay and fight, and those brave souls who were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice; to lay down their lives-"

He attempted to focus on his breathing instead of the words filling the room. 

They were empty anyways.

Nothing could undo the past, no matter how desperately you wished for it.

Inhale, hold, slow exhale. 

Repeat.

Just focus on the ceremony.

While not one of the ones who had been asked to speak today, he knew he had to find a way to hold it together. This was the first public appearance where he would be representing the Ministry, the candidates were not told specifically they were being watched and evaluated, but it had been implied. He needed to appear as though he were paying rapt attention, display the appropriate amount of emotion at the precisely correct time. Not too much emotion though, certainly not too little.  

All eyes were on him. Theoretically of course- he knew the Ministry officials who would be evaluating the candidates for the promotion would not spend their entire day only watching him closely. However, he couldn't shake the feeling he always got when he knew someone was staring at him, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing up- making him want to turn around and find the culprit.

Could be a number of people though... his family was here, certain he would be questioned for why he didn't seek out the other Weasleys. There was Blair, determined to be a thorn in his side indefinitely it seemed. Perhaps it was someone who knew him from the Ministry or from his days at Hogwarts. 

Really could be anyone. There was always the possibility it was someone or potentially multiple someones who were all wondering what he was doing here. How he managed to have the audacity to dare show his face at the memorial service when he did nothing heroic other than showing up in a frantic fit at the last possible moment- begging his family for forgiveness. 

You're projecting, he reminded himself, recalling the brief conversation he had with his therapist regarding the anniversary celebrations. Most of the time people hardly notice each other, far too involved with their own lives to concern themselves to notice any potential faults of shortcomings of others- which was true he reasoned. Other than a few comments directly after the war he had to admit that most people hardly seemed to notice his presence when he strolled down the streets of Diagon Alley- or perhaps they did and were simply ignoring him. 

Which was comforting in a way. The idea that most people were far to self-involved to truly care or even notice what you were up to, even if they did notice they would soon forget all about it. Their own lives and issues taking precedence over yours. 

"The many acts of bravery shown that day are unparalleled, in a few short years the second wizarding war and Battle of Hogwarts will be taught to students within these very halls-"

Penny gave his hand a small squeeze, pride beaming from her eyes, and a soft smile when she finally caught his eye. She was the one person he couldn't ever seem to shove away, whenever he tried, she simply stood firm and wiggled her way back into his life. During that last year she often begged him just to go talk to his parents or perhaps send a quick owl to Charlie and explain how he was feeling overwhelmed and lost, let them know that all he wanted to do was come back home. 

She was the first one to tell him the bravest things anyone could do was admit when they were wrong- to ask for forgiveness and to actually have their actions match their sentiments. According to her, he had earned his forgiveness a thousand times over. 

Unparalleled bravery- Those words should make him feel- well, something other than the strong urge to go hide in a bathroom stall.

His family joined the Order with no hesitation, putting their lives in danger to serve a greater purpose. Jumping headfirst into finding a way to defeat the deatheaters, save Harry and the Wizarding world with little regard to their own personal safety. 

The embodiment of what most believed a Gryffindor to be. 

He often wished he was as brave and strong willed as his siblings. Wished he knew how to cope with the world in general.

Wished he could just remember how to bloody breathe.

Inhale, hold, slow exhale. 

Repeat.

Just look like you are focusing on the memorial. Let your mind wander as long as you keep a straight face, you can worry about your hesitancy to process your emotions at a later date. 

If Oliver were here his sweet little obsessive soul would probably be whispering to him about the Quidditch pitch he helped restore after it was burned to the ground, providing him a much-needed distraction. According to what he heard from Harry; Oliver spent weeks intently researching the perfect grass to replant on the pitch. Gathering up hundreds of samples and spending more hours than necessary testing them in increasingly odd ways, which only someone truly passionate about Quidditch and looking for an outlet for his grief could possibly understand. Wanting to find the one which would provide a properly firm base for the players to push off from before the start of the match, even in the rainy and unpredictable weather of Scotland. His endeavor set the entire project weeks behind schedule and led to a rather public fight between him and Professor McGonagall- one which ended with her forgetting he was no longer a student and taking points away from Gryffindor. 

He did wish the burly keeper were sitting next to him instead of trouncing around Berlin with his teammates on their day off. The man had not said as much, but something told him he could have gotten special permission to be in England for the ceremony if he had pushed, he personally didn't believe Oliver pushed very hard at all. Not that he could blame him. He knew Oliver had been there when Colin Creevy died, tried to help but was too late to stop the killing curse. Had carried his small body into the Great Hall with the rest of the fallen. 

Though, he supposed if given the choice, he would also have opted for a day of sightseeing with friends as opposed to reliving some of the worst memories of his life. 

There were a million other places he would personally rather be at the moment than sitting in the Great Hall while listening to several prominent Ministry officials praise those who fought against Voldemort and the deatheaters. Some of which he knew for a fact did absolutely nothing while working for the Ministry during the war. 

The rest of the speakers were former students. Of course, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all gave speeches. He felt all three of them of them did an excellent job, not a dry eye in the hall.

Harry's speech was short and to the point, giving a lot of credit to others who he claimed were doing the difficult part while he was off hunting horcruxes during what should have been his final year at Hogwarts. Calling out specific Order members, former students who stood against the Carrows, the professors of Hogwarts who worked to safely evacuate students and then stayed to fight, and all of those who came back to Hogwarts to fight. 

Hermione's was much longer, more focused on how the wizarding world had worked to rebuild itself since the war. After centuries of enslavement the house elves were officially freed, now it was illegal for them to work without any form of payment. She made sure to mention, that as of a few months ago, werewolves were officially removed from the list of dangerous magical creatures and would no longer be part of the defense against the dark arts curriculum. Highlighting the recent series of protections so that anyone with lycanthropy would be guaranteed a monthly supply of wolfsbane as well introducing anti-discriminatory policies at both Hogwarts and any place of employment in the wizarding world. 

He noticed Fleur put her head on Bill's shoulder, watching with a lump in his throat as Bill ran his fingers through her long hair with a smile on his face still marred with deep gashes. Remus and Sirius were also cuddled up, bouncing Teddy on their laps who was doing remarkably well for a toddler who couldn't run and play as he wanted. Lavender Brown was also in the audience, her arms around another woman, Parvati, he believed her name was. All of them having one thing in common, their lives forever changed by Fenrir Greyback. Now, thanks to the protections they might be able to live normal lives, something which would never have been afforded to them otherwise. 

What she didn't mention was that she was largely responsible for the steps forward in equality for the wizarding world. 

Ron's was also on the shorter side, the most emotional out of the three. Something he didn't feel many people knew about his youngest brother, most assumed he was the comedic relief of the golden trio and never saw how loyal he was to the ones he loved the most. He knew his brother still harbored a lot of guilt for leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the woods, driven to the brink of what he could emotionally handle while under the negative influence of a horcrux. Allowed his insecurities to get the best of him, after the war the two of them had a long talk where he assured Ron he didn't blame him in the slightest.

Of all their siblings, he understood the need for second chances.

For forgiveness. 

The lights dimmed and the windows darkened themselves, the hall immediately growing silent as the lingering sounds of applause faded. Professor McGonagall once again stood at the front of the room, for a split second, her frown faltered with a twitch to her jaw, but she quickly masked whatever emotion tried to surge to the surface. Raising her hands to the candles floating above their heads, casting long shadows on the stone floor. "There are three hundred and fifty-seven candles. One to represent each person known to have either lost their life fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts or during the war in general. Today we raise our wands to remember them."

A pregnant pause followed by the raising of hundreds of arms; wands pointed towards the ceiling in solemn tribute. The first name to be called was Cedric Diggory, immediately followed by one of the candles extinguishing.

A senseless death, but one which unknowingly marked the beginning of the second war.

The crucial mistake after the first war was nothing regarding the functioning of society was truly altered, everyone simply returned back to their lives and occasionally shook their heads at the amount of destruction that Riddle lad managed to cause. Still reciting the tired old rhetoric of blood supremacy and the idea that magic was only meant for the select few, a commodity to be protected against those who were deemed unworthy. No, the second rise of the deatheaters and the resulting wizarding war were set in motion decades before the final showdown between Harry Potter and Voldemort on May 2, 1998.

While most don't truly remember their early childhood, he was never counted in that number. If anything, he always remembered certain events in perhaps a bit too much detail, the first few weeks following the end of the first war burned into his memory yet lacking the appropriate context. Something he didn't realize the full extent of until it was almost too late.  

You Know Who had fallen, or at least had disappeared from the public eye, leaving nothing but chaos and an entire world in disarray. When he came down to breakfast on the morning of November 1, 1981, he found his mum crying while bouncing a screaming Ron on her hip at the stove while the tea kettle's high-pitched whistle filled the small room. His dad was nowhere to be found and Bill ushered him and Charlie outside to play in the garden with Fred and George, later he learned some people she knew, the Potters, were dead and their son miraculously survived a killing curse but his whereabout were currently unknown. 

When his dad came home from the Ministry that night for a quick meal and a nap, he and his two older brothers snuck downstairs to listen in on their parents' conversation through the kitchen door, learning how a man named Sirius Black not only betrayed his childhood friends but killed twelve muggles in a blast meant for a man who accused him of being an informant to the deatheaters. A traitor. All that was left of poor Peter Pettigrew was one finger. There wasn't even the customary trial, opting for a life sentence in Azkaban to the number of witnesses testifying to Sirius Black's unhinged response. His guilt made stronger by his eerie reluctance to scream his innocence like so many who met the same fate before him. 

He didn't really know what Azkaban was at the time, but the way his parents whispered the word in choked voices and the shocked gasps from his brothers let him know it wasn't a place he ever cared to visit. The thought of asking for clarification never occurred to him because he didn't want to be accused of 'being a little baby who doesn't know anything'. Something his older brothers often enjoyed pointing out to him, suggesting perhaps he should go play with the younger children and leave them be. 

The following days were tense, enough that even as a young child he could pick up on his parents' apprehension and fear. In his parents' good intentioned attempt to shield them from issues which weren't meant for children, they were banned from listening to the radio and neither of their parents read the paper when they were around. Believing it enough to keep them from finding out what was happening outside of their protective little bubble.

Not that any of their parents attempt to shield them from the truth ever stopped them from pursuing it.

His two older brothers often leaving him out of important business meetings to whisper to each other while perusing the Daily Prophet they stole out of the rubbish bin. The long-forgotten radio Bill found in the shed and fixed up so they could listen late in the evening when the younger siblings had gone to bed, occasionally making him leave the room even though he couldn't understand why. Conversations had behind closed doors while three small boys listened closely, their parents believing them otherwise occupied. Never thinking of the open window, the voices that carried in the wind to the still forms hiding in the bushes just outside. 

From the bits and pieces he managed to gather from the hushed conversations happening all over the Burrow, the Ministry had begun the arduous process of determining who followed the deatheaters of their own free will and who were under the influence of the imperious curse. His father was almost never home, working long nights and all weekend to help ensure the muggle victims were receiving the same level of support as their magical counterparts. Plopping wearily down in a chair nearly every night and telling his wife about how the Ministry was trying to put things back to normal. Trying to restore the peace. 

Looks shared that he couldn't quite discern. 

He remembered being proud. Telling everyone who would listen when he accompanied his mum on the weekly shopping trips to Diagon Alley that his dad worked for the Ministry and he was single handedly going to fix everything the evil deatheaters had broken. His dad was a real hero. Sentiments which often earned him grunts and groans from Charlie and Bill along with quickly being hushed by his mum who hurried her brood out of the shops where clerks stood with mouths gaping open. 

One evening his dad came home from work and sat him down in his workshop, kindly telling him that, while he was happy his son wanted to brag about his old dad to everyone, it might not be the best idea to broadcast the fact that he worked at the Ministry for the time being. Something he couldn't wrap his head around at the time, the Ministry was helping people and helping people was a good thing. Therefore, both the Ministry and his dad were good.

It was simple- he didn't understand how the adults in his life couldn't see it as well. 

A few days after the confusing chat with his dad he was helping Charlie de-gnome their mum's garden vegetable plots and found a terrified rat cowering by the back garden wall, so hidden by the overgrown weeds he almost stepped on it. Charlie made him a cozy little shoebox house for his new pet and helped him figure out what sorts of foods rats might like to eat. He named the rat Scabbers and proceeded to inform his new friend of his ambition to be just like his hero of a dad and join the Ministry. He too would help people. 

Scabbers swished his tail at him and gave a single squeak, which he interpreted as affirmation this was the correct path for him to pursue. Throwing the next fourteen years of his life towards one goal, joining the Ministry- just like his dad. 

He often wondered if even one tiny detail during that tumultuous time period had happened just a bit differently. Could it have been the first ripple from a small pebble tossed into the river of time? The consequences of which potentially altering the lives of every witch and wizard in the magical world.

Perhaps nothing would have changed. Voldemort would still have returned to power, the battles would have still been fought and innocent people would die as a result. 

But there was a small chance a few things could have changed for the better.

Just one single alteration in the timeline could have stopped the whole thing.

Could have prevented the list from being so long.

If Sirius Black had been the secret keeper for the Potters.

If Albus Dumbledore disclosed that Snape informed him Pettigrew was an informant to Voldemort months before the events of October, 31 1981. 

If Harry Potter hadn't been dropped off on the doorstep of the Dursleys, only to return to the wizarding world ten years later and completely clueless as to his unwilling role in the first wizarding war. 

If he hadn't picked up that mangy rat at four years old and never questioned why it seemed to live longer than its other counterparts. Too afraid of losing his first real friend to find it just a bit suspicious.

If the adults in all of their lives had told them what was actually going on. Talked to them about the war instead of bottling up their emotions and snapping at them to be quiet when they brought anything even remotely related to Voldemort. 

If only he had been able to read a bit sooner and could have known the articles in the Daily Prophet criticized the Ministry heavily for their inaction during the war, accused them of overstepping their bounds and covering up the fact they allowed known deatheaters to hold positions of power. Known how many of the deatheaters would never be tried for their crimes, allowed to return to their normal lives and continue to enact policies which ensured their beliefs and ideals would remain at the forefront of wizarding society.  

If Dumbledore hadn't been left completely unchecked to raise an army of child soldiers. Withholding vital information from everybody involved, never revealing his ultimate plan based entirely on a prediction by Sybil Trelawny. One which involved the death of someone who loved and trusted him. A betrayal all its own. 

If history hadn't been destined to repeat itself, until finally they had enough and dismantled the entire thing. Rebuilding it all from the ground up. 

Maybe, just maybe, he thought as the last name was called, the final candle flickering above their heads before the Great Hall was plunged into darkness. They could have been a bit more prepared for what was to come.  

Chapter Text

"Ghosts don't stand a chance against the radio, that's why I turn the music up to sleep... Tonight, I'll lay down knowing you're not coming home. Then I'll swear I hear your keys outside my door, and I'll hate myself for checking as if I don't know that it's just the wind chimes on the neighbor's porch. Cause there's no peace in quiet. Just footsteps on the stairs, whispers in the silence remind me you're not there. There's no peace in quiet." Delta Rae- No Peace in Quiet

Unparalleled bravery- those words haunted him once again as he blinked away the remnants of the past few hours, feeling as though he were waking from a dream. Or had it been a nightmare?

There were many times over the course of his life when he questioned the hat’s wisdom in sorting him into Gryffindor. Ravenclaw would have been a safe bet, in his opinion, considering his propensity for voracious reading. Even Slytherin would have at least made sense, he was ambitious after all. But Gryffindor? He supposed it was the fact he was a Weasley, that was really the only explanation considering he lacked the ability to just jump headfirst into things without thinking them through and he greatly disliked anything which might put him at risk for a broken bone. 

One of the only times he thought the hat might be onto something was the battle. Showing up on a whim and ready to fight was perhaps the most Gryffindor-esque thing he had ever done in his entire life. 

At the moment he was headed towards the library and didn't feel particularly brave or fearless. While he made it through the ceremony, he still had to endure brunch at the Burrow. He needed a library break, partially because he wanted to quickly check if Hogwarts had a specific book he needed for his project and he needed a bit of alone time before spending the entire day with his family and friends. 

After making his excuses to his family and Penny, who promised to ensure Flora made it safely to the Burrow as the two had become fast friends after discovering their mutual disdain for Rita Skeeter and their love for teasing him about having a famous Quidditch player boyfriend, he scampered off towards the opposite end of the castle.

He never loved a place quite as much as he loved the massive library at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not even his childhood home. There was just something so entrancing about a place entirely devoted to the pursuit of knowledge, he had been drawn to it immediately like a Niffler to any shiny object.

Bill had been the one to introduce him to his beloved library. Having taken him on a private tour of the castle during his first day at Hogwarts, forgoing lunch for a quick snack they picked up from the kitchens. 

The first time he stepped through the arched doorway with the ornate wooden doors on either side he felt his breath leave his body. Standing in awe of the rows and rows of books which went from the floor to the high ceiling, hundreds of thousands of books sat waiting for him to read. More than he had ever seen or realized existed in his short eleven years. His eyes filled with tears which Bill mistook for a bout of allergies due to the dust lingering in the air, he hadn't the words to explain he was tearing up with the realization of just how many books there were in the world and the sudden understanding that he would never get to read all of them. The ache filling his chest for the words he would never get the chance to experience. 

This place held a magic all its own- one which was ancient and powerful in a way few would understand or afford the proper reverence to such a hallowed space. 

Most students who grew up with magic were simply accustomed to enchanted books which might occasionally attempt to maul you or suck you into an alternate dimension, while muggle-born students often just accepted this new experience as yet another quirk of the wizarding world. Open a book and find yourself blown across the room while the book literally shreds itself apart?- merely an unexceptional Tuesday evening in the life of an avid book lover. 

What many didn't realize was there wasn't an enchantment put upon the leather-bound tomes by humans, it was the magic of the words themselves- whether spoken or written which infused themselves into the pages of the books until they became part of the existing magic. As the books aged the power of the words grew and thus, so did the magic. Considering that many of the volumes in the library were centuries old it was no wonder Madame Pince was not known for her people skills- no one who had to deal with unruly teenagers lacking the proper ability to comprehend the raw power these books held would find themselves able to keep a pleasant disposition day in and day out.

No, he never blamed her for yelling at students who damaged the books and thus created cracks in the magic or carelessly waved their wands about, uttering incantations without realizing they were giving more power to the books which surrounded them both in the general circulation and the restricted section. There was no telling what some of the books housing instructions for dark magic might do, lines of text containing ill intentions left to gather bits and pieces of power from other words for thousands of years, left unchecked the results could be catastrophic.

Madame Pince had an important and difficult job and she never much cared for any of the students, but she at least tolerated him. He considered that one of his greatest achievements.

He breathed deeply, allowing the lingering scents of parchment and ink to fill his senses- bliss, pure and utter bliss. 

Home once again. 

Looking around the vast room, his eyes narrowed. For the first time ever, he found himself completely alone in the library. Not even the stern Madame Pince standing at her usual post to keep careful watch over her wards and ensure nobody dared to disrespect her domain. 

Feeling his excitement grow he meandered through the rows of bookshelves towards where he knew the book in question would be housed. Running his fingertips along the spines lining the shelves and finding he was happily humming to himself without realizing it.

He truly hadn't been lying when he said he was looking for a book.

Could he have found it somewhere else?- most likely. 

Would he pass up the opportunity for a bit of personal time with the books he so adored for seven years?- not hardly. 

The Puddlemere fight song died on his lips for a moment, finding he was standing in the correct section. One which he occasionally frequented during his school days but found he didn't have much use for at the time. While Oliver occasionally needed to know the mechanics of how the broom was able to fly in the first place, for the most part the two of them were far more focused on the theories surrounding Quidditch tactics. Afterall, most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team couldn't afford to get the newest models every year so they had to utilize the raw talent of each player and use the other teams' playing styles to their advantage. 

While he found he was often distracted by other pursuits, a line casually tossed out by a professor which prompted him to go down a veritable rabbit hole of knowledge on an obscure topic. This section had been virtually untouched by him. Over a thousand volumes he hadn't even cracked the spine of, his mouth salivated at the prospect. 

Quickly finding the one he needed due to Madame Pince's impeccable system for shelving books, he couldn't help but allow a few others to catch his eye as well. Their titles practically calling out to him like a siren in the sea, beckoning him to see if perhaps the missing piece to his presentation lay within their pages. 

Best take a few more just in case. 

Plopping down on the floor he surveyed the twenty or so tomes he gathered up and got to work, pulling spare parchment, quills, and ink out of his robe pockets. He always came prepared. Folding his legs until he resembled what Oliver used to refer to as his pretzel stance. 

Now this was a fitting tribute to the memory of the Battle of Hogwarts. 

Just him, the books, and a quiet so still he could practically hear the vibration of the magic which surrounded him. 

Rubbing his hands together in unbridled glee he noticed he had chosen a corner of the library near the cathedral windows lining the far wall and several large tables perfect for multi-person study sessions.

Not just any corner, he realized with a start, their corner. 

He would always find himself eventually migrating to the floor when engaging in extended study sessions, Oliver usually rolled his eyes and sighed loudly at his antics but would also transfigure a large pillow for him so his bottom wouldn't get sore. Throwing it at his head with a poorly concealed grin on his face when he yelped and reminded him to mind the uncapped ink wells and mugs of steaming tea they smuggled in under the watchful eyes of Madame Pince. 

Merlin did he miss that man. He missed the way his mere presence could make him relax and breathe a bit easier. He missed the way the two of them were joined at the hip during their school days. He missed the way he practically had to drag Oliver into the library and force him to pay attention long enough to write an essay or two for classes. He missed their cozy late-night study sessions when they were cramming for exams. 

He missed a lot of things- giving his head a small shake at the fact that he had become one of those people in relationships who were practically maudlin when their significant other wasn't around. Not that he could help it per se, Oliver was like a breath of fresh air the source of everything that was light and good in his life. Light that was slowly creeping its way into other areas as well, especially when it came to his relationship with his family. 

While still not perfect, it was certainly better. Unfortunately, his therapist used the word 'communication' quite a lot during their session, something he was not known for. Necessary though, he supposed. Just not today- he needed a bit more time to think about exactly what he needed to say to them. 

A tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his internal musings, his head snapping up and letting out a rather embarrassingly high-pitched yelp. "Professor!"

"Apologies for startling you, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall looked down at him with a ghost of an amused smile on her face at finding her former student on the floor of the Hogwarts library, surrounded by open books; quills, ink, and parchment scattered about where he had been furiously scribbling down notes before he found himself distracted by the thought of his best mate and current crush. 

He coughed into his arm to hide his mortification, scrambling to stand up without tipping over any ink wells and bringing the wrath of the infamous librarian down upon his poor soul. Wouldn't do to be torn limb from limb in the dungeons so close to an impending promotion. "Not at all," he assured her, noticing the slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. "Well, perhaps a bit. Wasn't expecting anyone else to take a trip down memory lane amongst the books."

Professor McGonagall nodded, adjusting the few books nestled in her arms. "As I recall you spent quite a lot of time here. Determined to achieve twelve O's on your OWLS and NEWTS so you could become Minister of Magic before you were thirty years old."

"Yes, well," he coughed again, feeling his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Some plans didn't quite work out like I thought they would."

"Life often has a funny way of not taking into account what your plans and ambitions are," she smiled kindly. "I suppose congratulations are in order. I saw the recap of the recent Puddlemere United match in the Daily Prophet. I was sort of hoping their new captain would be here in person today so I could tease him about it. Payback, if you will, for all of the teasing he put me through for seven years."

He appreciated the change of subject, would have preferred to talk about the current books he was perusing, but Oliver would do as well. "Thanks- Oliver is currently in Germany-" his quill continued to make scratching noises on the parchment as he hurried to finish jotting down his notes and where he found them for future reference. "On tour- with his teammates- for work-" he closed one book and opened two more as he scanned the dense paragraphs from left to right, his eyes searching for certain key words or phrases, a little trick he picked up in school. "That's why he isn't here-"

"That is what he said in his condolences to the RSVP," his former professor shifted her books once again. "Must admit, can't say I'm all that surprised the two of you are together. To be quite honest, Remus tried to engage me in a bet of sorts your seventh year. I declined; of course. I make it a point to never concern myself with my students' relationships."

"I- um- what?"

His former professor looked down her nose at him, not buying for a second that he hadn't noticed until recently there was a little spark between him and his best mate. "I'm old Mr. Weasley, not blind. There was no reason for you to attend so many of Gryffindor's Quidditch practices nor was there a reason for you to check out so many books related to Quidditch theory. Also, a certain other boy who displayed no interest in academic pursuits spent an unusual amount of time in the library, and never alone if I recall."

"I- um," he stuttered out. "I enjoyed fresh air and the ability to rub it in my roommate's face that I knew more about Quidditch than he did. Oliver simply enjoyed reading Quidditch Through the Ages until its' spine fell apart." 

Professor McGonagall hummed a bit, glancing around at the books scattered on the floor. "Don't lie Mr. Weasley. It doesn't become you. Bit of light reading, I see."

He wasn't lying- well, at least not fully. Oliver had enjoyed reading the book cover to cover, even though he owned his own copy and could practically recite it from memory. Something to do with absorbing the knowledge of the great captains before him, more than likely Oliver was hoping one of the other houses' Quidditch players left a bit of parchment between the pages which would give him insight into their tactics. Never quite worked out for him, but he had to admire the sheer dedication. 

Not that he told McGonagall any of that sensitive information, instead he simply stated plainly, "work, getting ready for a big project to finish out the requirements for my bid to be the next Minister of Transportation." 

"Well, then another round of congratulations is in order. Why don't you take a few of them home with you?"

He found he was shaking his head, hands held out in front of her as though he were going to stop her from shoving the books into his arms. "I can't-" 

"Nonsense," McGonagall waved a flippant hand. "There is no way you will be able to properly peruse them in the limited amount of time you have before your family gathering. I can't permit you to take them all, but perhaps five or so would allow you to continue on with your important research."

"I-" he started, before snapping his mouth closed. How could he possible explain to his former professor that sitting all alone on the hard floor of the library was preferable to sitting around the kitchen table at the Burrow and listen to everyone relive their days fighting for the Order. 

"Don't argue with me, Wea- Percy. Gather up the books you want and I will personally vouch for their whereabouts to Irma. I highly doubt any of our students will be needing their contents for the upcoming end of year exams, so I see no harm in parting with them for a bit. I trust you will take excellent care of them?"

He was many things- stupid not generally being one of them. He knew better than to argue with the formidable Professor McGonagall, besides this way he got to take quite a few books home with him that would otherwise be very difficult for him to find. "Yes, Professor," he said with a beaming smile. 

Professor McGonagall almost shared it with him for a moment more, neither one saying anything as he started the arduous process of sorting through all of the books he gathered up to narrow it down to five or so. Carefully choosing which ones would be most beneficial to his project and setting aside the rest to be reshelved. Gathering up the seven- she did say five or so, after all- he finally decided on into his arms, with a quick wave of his wand he levitated all of the other books as he began to walk with McGonagall to begin the reshelving process. Chatting amicably about the details of his presentation along with providing updates on his family members and Harry and Ginny's upcoming wedding. 

It was nice. He always got along well with his former head of house, finding that he could often talk to her regarding a variety of subjects ranging from his schoolwork to his ambition to be Minister of Magic one day. Occasionally they broached into more personal matters, especially when his own mother's advice was a bit lacking. Professor McGonagall was one of the only people who knew how lonely he had been during his first few months at Hogwarts, having received the ever-helpful advice of 'just put yourself out there,' from his own mum he turned to an unlikely source for a more practical approach. She was the first one to suggest that his roommate seemed like a nice boy, perhaps a bit too energetic at times and of course obsessed with Quidditch- but certainly kind, polite and always surrounded by tons of friends. If he was offering the invitation for him to hang out with their classmates, then perhaps he should accept. 

While hesitant, he took her advice, and it ended up being to his benefit. Oliver was certainly nice and with each invitation he accepted it became clearer that he wasn't simply offering to include him because of some misplaced sense of duty but rather because he genuinely enjoyed his company. 

"Another thing before you go, Percy," Professor McGonagall stopped him at the front desk, tugging at the strand of ribbon peeking out over his collar until his medal came loose. Patting his shoulder as she smiled at the glinting gold in the center of his chest. "That should be on display. You earned it."

He just muttered something incomprehensible, tugging the books tighter to his chest as McGonagall waved her wand to write down the titles on a scrap piece of parchment so Madame Pince would know where her beloved books could be found. 

"None of that," Professor McGonagall chided him sternly, suddenly he felt he had a good idea of how Oliver felt whenever he was pulled into her office for one of their little chats regarding his lack of effort during classes. "Kingsley filled me in on your efforts during the war, you managed to slip under the radar and were able to accomplish more than most of the Order combined. You saved countless lives with the documents you misplaced and altered. Not to mention how you kept the locations of your family members and many of your former classmates a secret, especially when you were- coerced by unfavorable methods from the deatheaters when they took over by force."

"How did Kingsley know all of that?" he breathed out. "No one- no one was supposed to know all of that." 

Professor McGonagall gave him an odd look as he tried to focus on his breathing and sporadic heart rate. "People talk Mr. Weasley- there were several people who were more than willing to step forward and come to your aide when the Ministry was starting to charge people with war crimes. You never participated in any of the tortures, and you put your own safety on the line to do what you could with the circumstances you were given."

"Did he- did he ever tell my parents- about- about what it was like?"

Her shoulders stiffened, blinking rapidly as though she were trying to discern if she just revealed information that ought to have been kept secret a bit longer. "- I believe so, I don't see why they wouldn't have been informed of the part you played and the conditions in which you performed your heroic actions."

He nodded and turned on the spot, his vision blurring at the edges as he felt his world tip sideways. "I have to go-" he choked out, dodging McGonagall's steadying hand and fleeing from the library as her worried shouts grew fainter. 

He felt like screaming into the roar of the sea crashing against the rocky cliffs. 

He felt like confronting each of his family members in turn to get the answers to his questions. 

He felt like burning his entire world to the ground. 

As he paced his flat for over an hour he’d thought if he could just come up with some reasonable explanation for why his parents would have known the intimate details about the hell scape that was his time at the Ministry and not have ever mentioned this little piece of information to him, then perhaps he could stop his downward spiral or at least slow it down before it reached the depths of an unimaginable pit of depression.

But he hadn’t even managed that. Hadn't even come close to formulating a plausible excuse or scenario which would explain this newest revelation. 

The only thing he kept thinking was they couldn't. His parents had to have no clue what took place at the Ministry and of course his siblings were innocent by default- no one knew anything- they couldn't know anything. McGonagall was wrong, she had to be wrong. There was no other option. Kingsley Shacklebolt never told them the details and they hadn't spent the past several years ensuring he continued to feel incredibly guilty for abandoning his family, certainly never made him feel less than due to his lingering ambitions to do- well, something with his life.

A headache burst behind his sinuses, sudden and stabbing. He grunted and pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose to ease the pressure.

The brief feeling of plausible deniability was gone now or, if not gone, then buried. It had been subsumed by the monster that had awoken in his chest. The familiar warmth of rage returning to him- fueling him forward as he stormed up the steps of the Burrow. He was fully prepared to hex the first person he laid eyes on without so much as a perfunctory greeting. With his hand gripped tightly around the handle of his wand he raised his free hand to turn the knob on the door only to find it opened without his interference, revealing to him two identical freckled faces who were grinning at him in a way which made his stomach twist itself into knots. His right hand nearly going numb as he gripped his wand even tighter. 

"Hey, Perce!" the twins greeted him, throwing their arms around his shoulders and practically drug him back down the steps and away from his mum and dad whom he needed to corner for a little chat.

He shrugged off their arms with a few well-placed slaps and kicks, once again storming up the steps only to find his shirt being grabbed from behind and unceremoniously dragged by the arms in the direction they wanted him to go, his feet bouncing on the stairs with a dull thud as he suddenly allowed himself to become dead weight in the hopes they wouldn't be able to support him. 

His plan did not work, he blamed Oliver's carefully regimented training program at Hogwarts for his twin brother's current strength as the wooden steps turned to paved stone and his heels continued to bounce along.

"Let me go you infernal brats! I need to speak with our parents! It's important-"

While hexing them was certainly an option, he couldn't quite bring himself to do that to his brothers. Despite the rage which boiled in his veins he did remember what it was like to see Fred be hit with an unidentified curse, he simply couldn't do that- not today of all days. What he could do was try and wiggle out of their death grips as they heaved him onto his feet and once again put their arms around his shoulders, steadfastly frog-marching him towards the back garden where the gathering was being held. 

"Now, now. No need for name calling. You will get plenty of opportunities to see our parents," Fred assured him, carefully keeping a tight grip on him lest he attempt another escape as well as putting a bit of space between them in case of another kicking episode.

"Have no fear," George called out, pumping the arm not clutching his shoulders into the air. "Gred and Forge are here!"

He rolled his eyes as he let out an audible sigh at their antics. 

McGonagall... this had to be her doing. She probably sent a Patronus right after he fled the library and made for the nearest floo network to warn everyone that she essentially 'let the cat out of the bag.' Convinced the twins to distract him with brotherly affection which he was far too skeptical to believe held any sincerity.

This was all a trap, he could feel it in his bones. Certain that his mother was busy in the kitchen and his father was either assisting his wife with lunch or doing some other party prep task. They were just trying to buy his parents a bit more time so they could work on their cover story which would appease him and probably try and paint them as the victims. Once again bringing up how he abandoned the family and made his mum cry, siding with the corrupt Ministry against their wishes and better judgement. Merlin help them if they said anything about him getting what he bargained for- 

"I need to speak to mum and dad, immediately," he insisted, determined not to be deterred by their interference in his ill thought-out, and slightly insane, plans. He had two people whom he needed to get into a screaming match with, he wouldn't be satisfied until he officially had his say in the matter. Possibly slam a door or two for good measure. "Please-" he pleaded, hoping to appeal to their more human side. 

"We have a surprise just for you, you nupty," Fred scoffed as they continued along the stone path, drawing him closer to his side. "And we don't appreciate your repeated attempts to ruin it. You might just soar with happiness." 

George laid his head on his shoulder, glancing up at him with his big doe eyes and pouty lipped expression. Looking the picture-perfect part of feigned innocence. "Think you are really going to be swept off your feet, big brother." 

"Been waiting for you to get here so we could reveal it to you," Fred wagged a finger at him as though he were properly chastising him for his tardiness. "Not very nice of you to keep us waiting. Aren't you always going on about promptness?"

"Being prompt and presenting yourself appropriately are the two keys to making a memorable first impression-"

"-You're not making a very good first impression."

"Not with your pretty silk tie all askew," George reached over and straightened it for him, ensuring it was perfectly in line with his shirt buttons just like he preferred. "There- very handsome. Must look your best for the celebration."

Fred busied himself with fussing over his rat's nest of a hairdo. "Apparition is not your friend. Best stick with brooms, at least then you will have more of windblown look which actually makes sense. We know how much you adore brooms and those who ride them for a living."

The twins often got after him for his hesitancy to joke around, unlike their usual spewing of venom regarding the series of broomsticks he had permanently shoved up his arse, this was more of gentle ribbing.

It did nothing to ease his wariness of the situation. The twins and surprises were not usually a good thing. More likely to end up on the receiving end of their newest joke shop product than anything remotely resembling a pleasant afternoon. 

He shuddered to think what they had in store for him as they rounded the corner of the Burrow and he was met with a large crowd of people who were all staring in his direction and looking oddly happy for whatever reason. Not that he could concern himself with that unusual behavior, nor could he bother with whatever surprise the twins had for him. He had one goal, to speak in private with his parents and finally get to the bottom of things. That was what he was thinking about as he scanned the sea of faces looking for the familiar glints of red hair; not burly shoulders- not a warm smile- not familiar brown hair headed his way with an amused look on his handsome face- not- 

His mouth opened. 

Then shut. 

And then opened again. 

Chapter Text

"I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser. Midnights become my afternoons. When my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room. I should not be left to my own devices. They come with prices and vices, I end up in crisis. I wake up screaming from dreaming one day I'll watch as you're leaving cause you got tired of my scheming, for the last time. It's me. Hi. I'm the problem, it's me. At teatime everybody agrees. I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero." Taylor Swift- Anti-Hero

"Oliver?" he breathed out, throwing his arms around the man's neck and burying his nose in his shoulder. The earthy scent of his cologne relaxing him instantly as several people around them commented on the sweet reunion and how cute it was that it took him so long to realize what was going on. "What are you- when did you-?"

What was the proper reaction or facial expression to have when seeing one’s date for the evening standing before them when they were supposed to be traipsing around Berlin with their teammates? He really couldn’t say, nor could he have properly prepared himself for the feeling that everything in his world was once again exactly as it should be. The anger which previously coursed through his veins slowly disappeared the longer he was held by strong arms.

"Took quite a bit of convincing the Puddlemere higher ups," Oliver grinned down at him, a warm, slow smile that coddled the edges of his pounding headache. "Though, they finally relented when I started offering to do extra warm-ups and training days. Realized I was dead serious and willing to practically gravel at their feet for a bloody portkey back to the UK."

Both of his hands moved to cup Oliver's cheeks, still not quite believing this was all real. His thumbs moving across the freshly shaved skin as he stared into chocolate brown eyes. "When did you get here?"

"Half an hour or so," Oliver checked his watch to confirm, nodding his head at the accuracy of his approximation. "I wanted to tell you, but Puddlemere dragged their feet on an answer to my request. Didn't want to let you down so I opted for a surprise reunion. Had to sit through a rather brutal hour-long meeting this morning with my managers regarding how I was going to be at the portkey at nine in the morning sharp tomorrow and in tip top shape. No backyard pickup games of Quidditch for me today, lest I risk being benched for the rest of the season."

"Teddy will be so disappointed," he nuzzled his nose against Oliver's as a small voice bellowed out the war cry of 'Ollie, fly!'

Now that Teddy was in the sightline of anything even remotely related to Quidditch he was once again a bright eyed, bushy tailed little sprout of a boy and currently outrunning both his fathers in an attempt to find his beloved Oliver in the large crowd of people so they could go flying. He had to begrudgingly admit that watching Remus and Sirius chase after a rambunctious three-year-old with constantly changing hair colors as he ran amongst the legs of people mingling in the string light lined garden might just be the highlight of the entire day- Oliver's surprise visit not included. 

Teddy probably would have eventually found Oliver if not for Andromeda scooping the boy up into her arms and twirling him about, assuring him that even though Oliver was a bit busy at the moment she would take him to find a Quaffle in the shed and perhaps the two of them could play catch. 

They both watched Teddy's fathers bending over with their hands grasped firmly on their knees, breathing in labored gasps and wheezes as they nodded their heads in acknowledgment of Andromeda's plans which she called out to them over her shoulder. Teddy wiggling about in her arms, his eyes carefully searching the sea of faces just in case his grandmother was wrong and Oliver magically appeared right in front of him with a broom slung over his shoulder to whisk him off on a quick flying excursion.

"Ah," Oliver chuckled. "The managers never said anything about giving a rowdy three-year-old a little joyride. Especially since I have my own personal broom safety manager on the premises."

"You didn't tell me about your new employment opportunity," Flora appeared beside him with Penny in tow, flutes of Champaigne grasped tightly in their hands. "Thought the two of us were going to take over the Ministry together?"

Kicking himself for how rude he was being at the moment he gestured towards his friends. "Oliver, this is-"

"He knows who I am," Flora announced with a wink at Oliver who just grinned in return. The two of them sharing a look that made him quite nervous about what transpired while he was briefly tied up with self-loathing and trying not to pack every belonging he had to start over in a foreign country with an assumed identity. "Since you were a bit delayed in your arrival, I took the opportunity to get to know this boyfriend I have heard so much about. Good job by the way, nicely done."

Oliver expertly snaked his arm around his waist, pulling him closer to him with a chaste kiss on the side of his head. "I heard you practically have a shrine of me at your desk."

"Flora!" he couldn't help but allow a small smile to settle on his lips as the sound of Oliver's voice warmed his heart and threatened to turn his legs to jelly, hoping that Flora wouldn't think him amused by her antics in his absence. "You know that is a gross exaggeration. I have one clipping from the Prophet pinned to my memo board. I would hardly call that a shrine."

"A little owl told me there were dried flowers as well," Oliver chuckled.

"Flowers that a hunky famous Quidditch player bought him, and he painstakingly dried in between the pages of his books then arranged in a pretty pattern-"

Harry appeared by their side with his fingers entwined with Ginny's, his lips tugging upwards at the corners as he glanced between them. "He has a match winning snitch now as well to add to the mix. Got its own little clear box and everything to keep it nice and safe. Fairly certain my future brother-in-law gives it a little snog goodnight in your absence."

He wasn't going to hex the savior of the wizarding world. He wasn't going to hex the savior of the wizarding world. He wasn't going to hex the savior of the wizarding world.

"Heard there might also be a life size marble statue of Oliver," Ginny commented, almost laughingly. "That would really class the stuffy old Ministry up."

"Oh, lovely," Flora crooned, knocking her elbow into Penny's side who just sighed before running her hand through the blond curls that cascaded down her shoulders. Less than an hour with these two and the job was clearly already taking its toll. "Percy, remind me when you get the promotion to put in a work order to have a shelf installed in your new office. Gotta upgrade the shrine and make room for the lovely additions to your decor."

Before he could spit out what would likely be a scathing remark, Oliver gave a small cough, moving his eyes between the group of them and the buffet table meaningfully. "I am famished. What do you say we sample some of your mum's delicious cooking that she has been working all morning on?"

He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at the side of Oliver’s face before looking back to Flora, Harry, and Ginny who were all elbowing each other and snickering while muttering what he was certain was explicit commentary regarding his relationship with Oliver under their breath. Shrugging ever so slightly as he caught Penny's eye, she audibly sighed and nodded at him in solidarity of his misery, motioning her thumb towards the direction of the vast amounts of food.

Now that his fingers were once again entwined with Oliver's, and everything in his world was exactly as it should be, he had a minute to appreciate the attention to detail which went into the decorations as they waited in the ridiculously long line for refreshments. 

String lights and glowing white lanterns hung overhead, illuminating rows of weathered wooden tables and chairs in a warm honey color. Burlap runners running the length of each table were adorned with lace. In the middle of the runners sat various antique gold candlestick holders with white taper candles lit for effect, the wax running down and pooling at the bottom only adding to the homely atmosphere of the event. At each place setting there sat a napkin which changed color to whatever house the person sitting in front of it was sorted into at their respective magical school, a red poppy sitting atop each one. Red water goblets adorned the table along with bouquets of seasonal flowers scattered about the tables with tea lights added in for a warm glow.  

He would concede it was pretty and his mum had done a good job, perhaps he would lead with that when they had their inevitable conversation. So far, he only caught brief glimpses of the parents in question, both of them flitting in and out of the crowd of people as they caught up with several friends from their own days at Hogwarts. 

Penny and Flora were a few people ahead of them in line with Fred, George, and Angelina and he could hear their cackles of laughter, given the fact they all kept turning around to grin at him, he could only assume the twins were filling them in on their efforts to actually get him to the event. He had yet to decide if he would be grateful to them or not.

Fleur was sitting at one of the tables with several of their co-workers at Gringotts and some of Bill's old classmates, her hands folded across her belly as her husband brought over two plates of food, placing a kiss on her lips and nodding with a wide grin at the soft pale blue of her napkin. Ron and Hermione already had plates of food and were standing at the edge of the garden having what looked like a rather intense conversation, the topic in question probably being Fred and the fact that she turned him down on his offer of a proper date, based on the way she had avoided his brother like dragon pox the past few times they were all together. Charlie couldn't come today, as he was busy tending to his beloved dragons, but Tonks was here with her girlfriend in tow; sporting her bright pink hair and looking the very picture of someone who was hopelessly in love. The two of them were sitting at one of the tables with Remus and Sirius and were all laughing and joking around with each other. Andromeda was still busy entertaining Teddy who was full of restless energy after having to be quiet and still for so long this morning, at the moment he was happy to stay on the ground and play with an old Quaffle but he knew that would not last very long. 

They couldn't know. He decided with a sense of resolved finality as he watched the various interactions with a contented smile on his lips. There was simply no way they could possibly know what his time at the Ministry was like under the reign of the deatheaters. He would still be checking, though, that was more for his anxiety which was thankfully no longer making him feel sick to his stomach but was thinking seriously about settling right between his shoulder blades and tightening up his neck. 

He felt a small squeeze of his hand from Oliver who was chatting to Harry and Ginny about a nightclub Tamas and Liam wanted to go to in Berlin and detailing the numerous reasons why going anywhere with the two of them never ended well for the others involved. Glancing over he saw Oliver giving him a curious sideways look, squeezing the man's hand he gave a small little shrug. No need to worry him at this time.

Oliver looked like he wanted to say something when a considerable weight rammed itself into his shins and nearly knocked him backwards, causing him to grab onto his arm to keep him from losing his balance. After Oliver again had both feet planted firmly on the ground he shot a horrible attempt at a frown down at the little boy with his arms wrapped around his legs, giggling back up at him before picking up the Quaffle he dropped and crowing to be picked up. 

“Sorry!” Andromeda called, her once tidy bun in complete disarray as she raised a hand at the group. "He caught sight of you and there was no stopping him."

Oliver simply raised an arm, waving off her worries as he bounced a grinning toddler on his hip who was sporting hair almost the exact color of his Puddlemere blue dress shirt. "No worries. Suppose I couldn't hide forever."

"Ollie! Uncle Harry!" Teddy cried in happiness, seemingly the furthest thing from sorry. "Play catch with me!"

"What's the magic word?" Ginny asked, smiling fondly down at the little boy who grinned up at the adults who were all giving him their full attention now. 

At Teddy's mispronounced and drawn out, 'please' as he raised his newly acquired Quaffle proudly in the air every single person in the vicinity seemed to practically melt at the toddler's toothy grin. Oliver included based on the lopsided smile as he continued to bounce Teddy on his hip and mouthed something at Harry that looked an awful lot like 'keeper,' receiving a half-hearted glare in return along with a vigorous shake of his head. 

"Save my place in line?" Oliver asked, turning towards him with a charming smile and a familiar glint in his eyes that could only come with the prospect of anything even remotely Quidditch related. A glint which was evident in both of Teddy's and Harry's eyes as the three of them waited for his acknowledgement at being designated as the official placeholder while they went and tossed a slightly deflated Quaffle around.

He looked up with what he was certain was a goofy grin to find Fred and George snorting in tandem, Angelina was grinning back at him and fighting back a laugh along with Penny and Flora. Ginny snickered away right in his ear as his grin fell into a scowl before telling him to save her a spot as well and running off to join her fiance and future godson.

He'd always believed that dating, in the most polite terms, was simply a waste of his time and energy. The idea had, honestly, not crossed his mind until his mother's meddling in his love life pushed him to the very brink of insanity. Casual flings brought with them a sense of freedom from any emotional investment and a quick getaway. There were no awkward conversations regarding where the relationship was headed and no one involved expected any sort of commitment, when it was over it was simply over.

For the first time ever he found himself hoping there wasn't a quick getaway in his near future, that perhaps Oliver would stick around for a while. 

Exactly what he wanted out of the relationship in the long-term was still a bit unclear. What he did know was in this moment all he really wanted was a bit of peace and quiet to admire the way Teddy absolutely adored the man he was officially dating.  

Apparently that wasn't going to be the case. 

"Weasley!" Lee Jordan called out to him, strolling over towards him with Alicia Spinnet on his arm who gave a friendly wave to him which he distractedly returned as he craned his neck around the two of them to maintain his sightline. 

"Jordan," he replied, moving his head slightly to the right to find that Oliver was now holding Teddy in the air while Harry tossed the Quaffle in different directions as Oliver moved the small boy so he could reach out his arms and clasp the Quaffle in his chubby hands. Each time he caught the ball he would look over to Remus and Sirius and wait for them to applaud his efforts, while the toddler had catching down, he lacked the upper body strength to properly throw the Quaffle. Not that any of that mattered. Even though the ball only made it a foot or so before rolling to a stop, the way everyone carried on one would have thought the three-year-old managed to get the Quaffle through a golden hoop from halfway across the field. 

Add in Oliver and Ginny arguing over whether Teddy was destined to be a keeper or a chaser and one could understand why he couldn't help but smile at the scene. Even though the thought of Quidditch usually made him want to run for it he found that he could watch Oliver trying to give pointers to a toddler who would rather shriek the word 'Quaffle' over and over again rather than work on his grip technique all day long.  

This whole blushing schoolboy thing he had going on would really have to be reined in. That was concern for tomorrow though, today he would unapologetically blush at every single thing Oliver did or said. 

"I'm the official announcer for the semi-final match," Lee continued on, oblivious to the fact that he was drooling over Oliver's child rearing skills at the moment. "Thought you ought to know."

He glanced at the intruders, cocking his head to the side. "Congratulations, but why would that concern me?"

"Wanted to get the inside scoop regarding a rather heated post-match smooch which made the headlines of the Prophet," Lee arched an eyebrow after him, slowly smiling in a way that reminded him far too much of the twins to do anything for his comfort level. "Will we be getting a repeat of the sordid affair?"

"He was just kissing his boyfriend, Lee," Alicia said lightly, still staring fondly at her own boyfriend and smacking him playfully on the shoulder. "You Quidditch fanatics are making far too big a deal of this."

"Too big of a deal?" Lee asked hotly, waving his hands towards Oliver accusingly. "The notoriously private keeper and newly appointed captain of Puddlemere United was photographed snogging his secret boyfriend in the middle of the pitch after the match which secured Puddlemere United's place in the semi-finals. He barely even kissed that guy he dated for a year- what was his name? Tommy? Cody? Dave?-"

"Timothy," Angelina sneered, having come over to give her old friends a sideways hug with George and Fred in tow. "And that mainly had to do with the fact he was taking advantage of poor Oliver's trusting nature for his five minutes of fame. Wouldn't have wanted to snog him either."

Katie Bell appeared at his side with her girlfriend, Leanne, on her arm. "Tamas and Liam might have also had a little chat with old Timmy regarding his affinity for waiting for the cameras to be on him before giving Ollie a smooch. Harry went a bit feral as well if I remember correctly-"

"You forgot the whole using our former Quidditch captain as though he were his own personal Gringotts' vault," George mentioned lightly, before giving a dramatic shudder as though he were remembering all sorts of awful things.

"Not that our ickle Percikins would ever do anything like that," Fred chimed in, turning towards him and pinching his cheeks with his thumb and pointer finger while Angelina urged the group to take a few steps forward as they were finally getting nearer to the empty plates and silverware and thus to lunch. 

George shared a smile with Fred as the two of them cornered him as they were apt to do. "Far too much of a gentleman-"

"Far too stubborn is more like it-"

"Let's get back on topic," Lee insisted, guarding his shoulder from Alicia’s ire, incidentally, turning further towards Katie as he sought to get away from his girlfriend and finding that his other shoulder was also under attack. "You- Oliver- snogging-" Lee frantically waved his hands at the attackers coming at him from both sides, finally giving up and throwing his arms over his head. "Merlin's beard! You women are bloody brutal! I'm just asking a simple question!"

"Jordan," Oliver appeared once again now that they were next in line, behind him came Harry who was holding Teddy upside down and gently swinging him side to side while he giggled maniacally. Ginny, Remus, and Sirius not far behind them and giving the newly expanded group a curious look. "You wouldn't be antagonizing my date for a private interview, would you?"

"Wood! I was actually hoping for a joint interview-" Lee laughed as he and Oliver gave each other an awkward one-armed hug with a good deal of slapping each other's backs, probably some weird Quidditch thing that he never quite understood. "What do you say?"

Angelina and Alicia didn't give Lee any more opportunities to bother them, just grabbed onto both his arms and tugged him forward in the line now that they were finally able to fill their plates after waiting nearly three fourths of an hour.

"Afraid you will be sorely disappointed!" Oliver called after them, earning him several grins and one narrowed eye glare in return.  

He found he had several additional questions to add to his growing list- Why was a Quidditch announcer trying to interview him? Why was his love life such a popular subject for others? And why did Oliver always have to wear dress shirts so perfectly tailored that he could see the outline of his muscles? 

It was all very infuriating, especially the dress shirt which was currently displaying Oliver's arm and shoulder muscles quite nicely. There was no denying years of Quidditch had certainly been good to him, not that he could focus all of his energy on that particular train of thought. Well, perhaps later he could indulge a bit, but for now he needed to stay focused and find out what Oliver and Lee had been referring to. 

He glanced down at Oliver to find his face held no discernable answers, just a slight smile as he went about the next natural course of action, grabbing two plates from the nearby stack and surveying the multitude of options for lunch with his lips pursed as though he were on the verge of making a very important decision. 

Not that he could disagree with Oliver's approach to the prospect of actual food. All he had this morning was a cup of black coffee before the memorial ceremony, and while Hogwarts served some light snacks, he hadn't wanted to risk being caught unawares in public with any nervous stomach issues. So, he somehow managed to make it through his morning and avoid any mention of food, now that it was well past one in the afternoon he was positively famished. 

The heavenly aroma of the large assortment of dishes hit his nostrils, inhaling deeply as his stomach gave a rumble loud enough that it caused Oliver to turn his head to stare at him. His smile morphing into a smirk as he picked up a few kielbasas from the pan in front of him and dropped them onto his still empty plate with a wink, topping it off with a helping of sauerkraut.

Tosser. 

Say what you will about his mum- she was a good cook, as evidenced by the way he followed Oliver's lead and began adding to the kielbasa the man so thoughtfully chose for him. 

"Why would Lee be pumping me for an interview?" he asked at last, allowing his curiosity to get the best of him now that the Lee and the others were further up the table and out of earshot. 

"He runs the radio show Just Quidditch in addition to announcing Quidditch matches as a side gig," Oliver casually explained, carefully surveying his options for lunch and loading up his first plate with a variety of meats and a few pieces of fruit for good measure. "My teammates and I have given him quite a few interviews to get the show some publicity and kickstart its' popularity. He returned the favor when things blew up with Timothy, called a few of his Quidditch reporting buddies and helped keep it from being all anybody talked about."

He hummed, filling up his own plate with a bit more color than his companion. "What sort of topics were discussed during these hard-hitting interviews?"

"Well, interview might not be the right word," Oliver admitted, having moved on to the carbohydrate section of the table and began filling up his second plate with as assortment of casseroles. "It's a bit more relaxed than sitting down with a reporter, more of just bantering about whatever pops into our heads. Kind of fun if I'm being honest. One time Tamas and Liam came with me and boy did we have a wild time with Lee on air, the fines we had to pay from the International Quidditch League for cussing in public were not so fun."

He looked at Oliver curiously, reaching the serving spoon over to drop a considerable amount of steamed vegetables onto his plate when he wasn't looking. "Would have thought Quidditch players and cussing would simply go hand in hand."

"On the pitch, yes," Oliver laughed, dropping some roasted red potatoes on his plate and finally noticing the appearance of mysterious vegetables, his brow creasing in a small frown as he seemed to try and remember whether or not he put them there. "As long as you don't just unload on the wrong person. When in public we are supposed to represent the league at its highest standards, so no cussing during any type of press appearance whether officially sanctioned by Puddlemere or not."

Made sense in theory he supposed. The Ministry had similar policies, whatever you did or said on your own time was of no consequence to them but when within the confines of the building or at an event you were to represent them in a positive light. Still, from what he understood of the appeal of Quidditch from several of his co-workers they rather enjoyed the brash and unapologetic nature of professional Quidditch players. 

Coupled with some of the colorful language he heard whenever he collaborated with the Magical Sports and Games department, made up almost exclusively of retired Quidditch players, and he found it all a bit hypocritical. 

The fines were a bit much as well. 

"What the actual fuck, George?" he heard his sister scream out to the entire garden followed by Harry's frazzled voice chiding her regarding the presence of small ears who had a bad habit of repeating things. "Sorry, sorry my brother is a bloody wanker."

"Ginny!" 

"Sorry, sorry," his sister muttered.

Perhaps the fines were, in fact, necessary, he reasoned, reaching for a freshly buttered roll and finding he now had a helping of beef tenderloin on his plate that he had been eyeing and trying to decide if he should add it to his pile or perhaps come back for seconds. Catching Oliver's twinkling eyes, he shot him a pointed frown and nodded down at the sudden appearance of meat to which Oliver just shrugged innocently. 

"Fuck!" Teddy cried out in the temporary silence of the celebration, his little hands clapping together in glee at his newfound word that made all the adults gasp and fuss over him. "Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

The small group groaned as he and Oliver watched on from the buffet table, several other people quickly ran over to try and help control the situation. Their attempts had the exact opposite effect as Teddy seemed to enjoy entertaining the now much larger crowd all gathered round him. 

"Ginny!" Harry admonished, desperately trying to get Teddy to stop and failing miserably. "How could you forget that Teddy is in his repeating everything we say phase?"

His sister just threw her hands in the air in defeat. "Well, shit Harry! I just did!"

"Ginny!" Angelina exclaimed, pointing towards Teddy who was still clapping his hands and shouting the offending word at various intervals.

Thankfully Teddy didn't latch onto this new word, still far too happy and preoccupied with the first one Ginny unintendedly introduced him to. His momentum growing the more the adults continued to attempt to dissuade him with various sweets along with questions on a variety of topics. He remained firm, perfectly content with this new game that made his godfather clutch at his mop of black hair and caused several of the older adults present to turn away from him with their noses wrinkled in judgement.  

He leaned over to Oliver, who was watching the chaos with a shake of his head, and whispered, "I think someone on the Harpies public relations team forgot to inform Ginevra Molly Weasley of that little 'no cussing in public' rule-" 

"Bold of you to assume your sister isn't part of the reason why we have the rule in the first place," Oliver whispered back, expertly balancing both his plates on his outstretched arm before grabbing his hand with his free one and towing him along behind him as they made their way towards the tables.

By the time they reached the group, the chaos had escalated once again. Sirius had spoken a bit harshly to Teddy and the three-year-old was now wailing from the embarrassment and surprise of one of his dads raising his voice at him in front of others. 

Nothing anybody was doing could soothe the boy and he could tell that Harry was about to have a mental breakdown based on the way he bounced Teddy in his lap with a dead eyed expression as others now attempted to explain that papa wasn't actually cross with him, he just wanted him to stop saying the naughty word and be a good boy. 

"Any luck, Harry?" Neville Longbottom asked, appearing as if out of nowhere with Luna Lovegood at his side wearing a dress featuring many of the magical plants her fiance grew in his greenhouses at Hogwarts along with charmed mandrake earrings which opened their mouths to emit a thankfully silent scream. 

Harry turned his head to stare at Neville as Teddy scooted away from Sirius who was holding out his hands in a peace offering to his son. The toddler quieted for a moment, seemingly weighing the option of staying with his godfather or allowing his papa to hold him. His little lip quivered, turning his glistening eyes away from his dads before burying his face in Harry's shoulder while Sirius grabbed his shaggy hair in frustration and looked towards Remus for answers, the man gave him none while unsuccessfully trying to hide the fact that he was giggling at his husband's exasperation with their son.

"It's the wrackspurts," Luna supplied in an airy voice, a note of solemness as she frowned at the small boy who was starting to hiccup. Ignoring the blank stares of the people who turned to look at her. "They've gotten into his head, I fear. Nothing to do now but wait for them to move on to someone else."

Harry sighed heavily, tipping his head back to stare forlornly at the sky before looking pleadingly to Oliver as though he expected him to know what to do in this situation. Oliver didn't give any indication he noticed his former seeker's desperation, just sat both his plates down on the table before taking a seat as well. Spreading his newly red napkin across his lap as he readied himself for lunch. He gave no mind to the wailing toddler nor the other adults who were all still desperately trying to shush him, eventually glancing up with an almost bored expression on his face. 

"Teddy," Oliver's voice held a slight firmness as he addressed the toddler who immediately turned to stare at his flying buddy in rapt attention, trying to soften his sniffles while tears still streamed down his reddened face. "Who's your favorite Quidditch team?"

"Puddles!" Teddy shouted without a seconds' hesitation, pumping his tiny fists in the air as his sniffles finally started to subside. 

Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief, allowing his body to temporarily go slack in the chair. Oliver reached over and dried the toddler's face with a spare napkin, chuckling as his former teammate grimaced while continuing to recover from his ordeal. 

"Hey now!" Ron shouted in surprise, his mouth hanging open. "I will not allow my future god-son-in-law to be corrupted like this. Teddy, can you say Chudley Cannons?"

Teddy thought about it for a minute, looking between several of the adults who were all snickering before glancing up at Harry and exclaiming, "puddles!" while pointing towards Oliver who wore a triumphant grin now that he had proof his indoctrination of the toddler was having the desired effect.

Hermione tipped her head back to unexpectedly roar with laughter which caused Harry to quickly join in as well, much to glee of Teddy who was still sitting in Harry's lap and no longer upset.

"Please," Angelina snorted, looking at Teddy from across the table and leaning slightly forward. "Teddy, pick a winning team. Say Wimbourne Wasps."

Teddy's nose wrinkled at this new onslaught of Quidditch information, he could practically see the gears whirling in the toddler's head as he ran through these very difficult words while looking between Harry and Oliver who both gave encouraging nods. It wasn't that Teddy didn't know or love his Aunt Angie, but multiple people were currently watching him and he never spent a large amount of time with her. In a fit of sudden shyness he once again hid his head in Harry's shoulder, occasionally peeking his head out to stick his tongue out at Oliver who returned the gesture.

Ginny was slumped against the back of her chair, her arms folded over her chest, and watching them carefully. When she caught Harry's eye she just grinned. "Don't look at me. I already tried to teach the boy to say Harpies. He just thought I wanted him to yell 'Harry' again and again."

Ron tried yet again, slowly over-enunciating each syllable just in case Teddy hadn't heard him correctly the first time. "Ch-ud-ley- Can-non-s-"

"G-iv-e it up R-on, yo-ur t-ea-m sucks," Fred said in the same exaggerated fashion as his younger brother, shrugging idly when he was met with a glare that could rival that of the late Professor Snape when he caught his students recklessly waving their wands over a cauldron.

"They do not!" Ron shot back, combing his hands through his hair as though he were pleading his case. Looking around the group for anyone who might back his claims and finding no one. "They did very well this season now that they have a new seeker. Better than last year at least, when they won none of their games."

"They won five matches all season," Lee waved a dismissive hand. "Had to go all the way to Latvia to do it. Didn't even count for the league standings."

"Next year will be their year," Ron insisted hotly, waving a fork around accusingly before stabbing the hunk of beef on his plate as though it had personally offended him.

George glanced upwards, the slight downturn of the corners of his mouth giving him the appearance he was mulling over the points Ron had made. Giving a small shake of his head as his mouth once again quirked upwards, staring Ron right in the eyes. "You Chudley Cannon fans have been saying that since 1893. Face it, the year the Chudley Cannons even make it into the semi-finals of the League cup will be the year Oliver learns how to give a pep talk that doesn't put his entire team to sleep."

He laughed suddenly, covering his mouth quickly as his snorts escaped the confines of his fingers, but it was too late - everyone else had begun to giggle alongside him. Oliver's cheeks went slightly pink as he rolled his eyes at him but was smiling nonetheless, chuckling along with the others while shrugging at his former team members who were all nodding their heads in agreement. 

"Well, it seems you all have it under control," Remus announced, scooping up Sirius’ arm to whisk him away to another spot while his husband's wide-eyed gaze continued drift from Teddy to Oliver and then back again. "You good to keep Teddy entertained for a bit longer?"

Harry nodded his agreement before popping another bite of food into Teddy's open mouth who began chewing happily while clapping his hands to an indiscernible song which he must have learned in the muggle Parents' Day out program his dads sometimes brought him to when they needed a break to run some errands.

"Why didn't I think of that? All I had to do was ask him about Quidditch-" Sirius murmured, holding firm to his position as Remus attempted to tug him along. 

Remus just patted Sirius on the shoulder with a fond expression. "Next time, love."

With a wave Remus pulled Sirus away from the group, they all watched as the two men quickly made their way away across the garden as though Remus was worried that Teddy would soon notice their absence and start up another fresh round of tears.

Lunch continued with idle chatter, catching up from the last time everyone had seen each other and reminiscing about their Hogwarts days, strictly before the war. Fred and George kept trying to pry stories regarding his suspected truancy at Hogwarts, something he wasn't apt to just divulge at the lunch table. Especially with so many of his siblings and many of the former students he was responsible for as a Gryffindor prefect and head boy present and accounted for.

Oliver and Penny had no such qualms.

The two of them were currently on a roll, perfectly in sync with each other as they regaled the entire table with various stories from their time at Hogwarts. They had drawn a small crowd as well, the majority of them former Hogwarts students such as Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Cho Chang, Hannah Abbott, along with several others who had been sitting at nearby tables and wandered over to find out why there were constant howls of laughter from the Weasleys. 

While he wouldn't necessarily consider Oliver and Penny as best mates the two of them had always been on friendly terms during their time at Hogwarts and they got along surprisingly well for how different their personalities were. It got decidedly worse for him once Oliver realized the way to really get him to break a few rules was to go to Penny first, if he could sweet talk her into whatever scheme he and the others in their year had cooked up then his roommate was apt to follow. A cute little pouty face and puppy dog eyes from a normally macho Quidditch player went a long way as well, but he would never mention that little fact to Oliver. The man would abuse his power and he would be rendered completely defenseless. 

Not that he wasn't already, but at least when Oliver was just his normally charming self, he was able to maintain the illusion he was fully in control of his emotions and thought processes. Otherwise, he was just a hopeless fool, no better than any of the ones who came before him. If there was one thing he refused to be- it was average. 

"Percy," Flora gave him an approving look from where she was seated between Fred and Penny. "I had no idea that underneath the prim and proper facade you were such a wild child during your youth."

Penny shot an amused grin at her new friend with an accompanying wink. "You just have to ignore his loud protests and drag him into mischief kicking and screaming."

"Don't forget the part where, as you are hauling him towards trouble, he clutches the badge pinned proudly to his chest and screams 'my reputation!'" Oliver flopped over onto him in an unnecessarily overdramatic fashion while his voice was a scarily accurate impersonation of his own. "'You two are going to ruin my reputation?'"

'"I'll never make head boy if I get just one single detention!'" Penny added, the table erupting once again as everyone commented on that's exactly how they would have imagined him responding to even the suggestion of breaking one of the rules he memorized before beginning his first year. 

Something which never struck him as odd. How was he supposed to follow the rules if he didn't know them? Had he listened to Oliver the answer would have been when McGonagall yells at you, he opted to avoid the wrath of his former head of house along with several stern lectures because someone forgot that he wasn't allowed to use magic in the corridors or that he wasn't allowed to fly around the grounds at two in the morning because he couldn't sleep. 

He simply sniffed in return, holding his chin proudly in the air. "I stand by my statements. Had I allowed the two of you to run amuck the castle would likely have been burned to the ground before our third year. You can't be head boy if you are an accomplice to arson."

"Fairly certain arson was something you only had to worry about when it came to your twin brothers," Flora interjected. 

Fred wagged an accusatory finger at Flora, though the grin on his face gave away his feigned ire. "How do you know about our supposed acts of arson?" 

"I was only four years ahead of Percy in school," Flora propped her elbow on the table and settled her chin in her palm, arching a brow up at the pair of redheads in question. "And you two had quite the reputation of being both pyromaniacs as well as pranksters amongst all of the houses at Hogwarts."

"Oh, stop it!" George snorted, actively fighting the grin as his fiance rolled her eyes as his ego was fluffed up at the confirmation that he and his twin were well known as troublemakers throughout all of Hogwarts. 

Not that there was ever any real doubt. From the moment those two stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, they ensured they were well known as the resident pranksters of Hogwarts and later on as the sole suppliers of joke products to help their fellow students get out of class or enact revenge. Creating a name and brand for themselves which greatly contributed to their continued success as business owners. 

Fred also grinned along with George, placing a hand over his heart as though Flora managed to woo him with those few short words. "You're making us blush! So, which house did our reputation proceed us in?"

"Slytherin," Flora held up her green napkin with a smirk. "I see that deductive reasoning isn't a necessary skill for owning a successful joke shop in Diagon Alley."

"Hey now!" Fred smiled widely. "Get it right... widely successful joke shop in Diagon Alley with a pop-up location in Hogsmeade making its inaugural debut in just a few weeks."

"Going straight to the source I see."

"Exactly!" Fred tapped his temple with one index finger. "We have a steady line of revenue through orders by owl, but we recently reran the numbers, and found we could more than triple our profits on Hogsmeade weekends. With rent prices in that location at a premium we devised a rather brilliant plan. Setting up a pop-up tent for a fraction of one week's rent would cost for a brick-and-mortar store. That way we capitalize on the peak rush of our key demographic and keep our overhead costs low, thus maximizing our profits."

For any normal person, talk of profit margins would have caused their eyes to glaze over within a few seconds. 

However, Flora was the lead financial adviser for their department. Mainly responsible for maintaining an up-to-date pricelist when he and the other were working with key clients who were in need of customized floo network connections as well as those who were needing international portkeys. She also handled the task of creating invoices and ensured payment was received for such specialized services. Numbers were her passion, and he did not envy her job. 

It was no surprise to him when her eyes lit up, leaning in slightly closer to Fred who returned the gesture with a schoolboy giddiness. "Have you thought about how you will analyze which products will compose your base stock and what products you will be offering at a discount to reduce excess back stock as well as which newer products are projected to be your next best sellers?"

"Well... um-" Fred glanced at George who just shrugged helplessly in return before shoving the last bite of salad into his mouth. "A little bit. Any suggestions?"

"Loads-" Flora replied, launching into her spiel that he had heard a thousand times. The same one she always lectured to him on their tea breaks or during lunch, a standardized system which analyzed the Ministry's most popular services for transportation related issues as well as which new advances they were going to push to pad their bottom line. 

He preferred the thinking portion of the job, looking at patterns and the big picture to come up with innovative solutions to their modern issues. Flora was more practical, preferring the back-end work and finding ways to make his lofty ideas profitable. 

The Ministry had to make money if he wanted to keep getting paid- something she reminded him of daily when she shot down another brilliant idea of his because the man hours alone to figure out how to safely implement it would bankrupt them within a month.  

Fred was hanging onto her every word with an eager smile. Obviously floored by her financial knowhow and prowess. She was good- one of the best that the Ministry had to offer as a matter of fact. A true expert in her chosen field. And it showed. 

He noted a certain brunette witch didn’t exactly look happy at this turn of events. Interesting. Hermione's mouth tightened at the corners into a slight frown and her eyes narrowed at the easy way Flora and Fred were conversing, he might have been apt to shrug it off were it not for the nervous glances that Harry and Ron shared across the table and the panicked look in Ginny's eyes as she mouthed something to Hermione who just sat stoic in response. Attempting to go for a study in impassivity, failing to most eyes except a few oblivious idiots. 

His twin brothers being amongst that number. Not that he could expect Fred to realize anything was wrong with his back turned towards Hermione, but George was a different story. He had a direct line of sight yet was continuing to eat lunch as though there wasn't any mounting tension. He might have been willing to give his brother the benefit of the doubt, perhaps assume he was simply trying not to draw anyone's attention, that was all dashed when Angelina gave a pointed look towards the two in question with raised eyebrows. All George did was mouth, 'what?' with a dumbfounded expression as he shoveled potatoes down his throat all while trying to puzzle through why his fiance rolled her eyes at him before turning to converse with Katie and Alicia who were a bit more perceptive to the situation. 

Honestly, even Oliver had caught on at this point. Judging by the way his pupils dilated slightly when they caught each other's eyes. Nodding his head towards Hermione, who looked more like she was getting ready to face an army of deatheaters rather than sitting down to a nice lunch. Obviously, she cared just a little bit, perhaps more than a little bit if he were being honest.   

The look in Hermione's eyes was one he knew well. Considering it was the same one he had during seventh year when Oliver agreed to go with some girl from Slytherin to Hogsmeade one weekend and he picked a fight with his best mate over something incredibly mundane and stupid as a result. As it turned out, Oliver had no clue it was supposed to be a date, he just thought she was being nice and including him because they were Herbology partners. Much to the dismay of the poor girl, who had genuine feelings for the Gryffindor Quidditch captain only to find those feelings were not reciprocated. 

The green-eyed monster within him settled at that revelation, forcing him to backpedal and make up excuses to explain his irritation and general bad mood over the course of several days. Not that he had much right to be jealous, expecting Oliver to know he had some secret schoolboy crush on him had been a bit unrealistic. Expecting Oliver to return those feelings had seemed beyond the realm of possibility. Still, it hadn't changed how he felt at the time. 

Something he was certain Hermione was experiencing as well. Even though she had officially turned Fred down for a proper date, citing they were better off of friends, he had a sinking suspicion there was a bit more to the story than she was letting on. 

Penny seemed to agree with his silent sentiments. His so-called best mate's lips quirked up into a knowing smile as she stared at him across from the table. No doubt recalling their many late-night strolls on prefect duty where he lamented on Oliver's lack of affections, while doing absolutely nothing to change anything. Mainly because he was terrified of how the boy he had known since they were eleven years old made his stomach flop over whenever he smiled at him. 

It was much easier to bury his head in the sand and be irrationally jealous from afar. 

One thing was for certain, he decided as he gripped his date's hand under the table while whispered conversation continued uneasily around them, he certainly didn't deserve someone as wonderful, kind, and forgiving as Oliver. 

Chapter Text

"It used to burn. Every insult, every word. But it helped me learn self-worth I had to earn. So, I tried every night to sit with sorrow and eventually, it set me free. Have you ever felt like being somebody else? Feeling like the mirror isn't good for your health? Every day I'm tryin' not to hate myself, but lately, it's not hurtin' like it did before. Maybe I am learning how to love me more." Sam Smith- Love Me More

Since working together at the Ministry, he witnessed a new side of Hermione he hadn't noticed before the war. A girl who was once just his annoying little brother's best mate and seemed to run amuck about the school getting into one mess after another had somehow transformed into a formidable woman who fought tirelessly to ensure all members of wizarding society would have equal representation and protections to prevent unfair labor practices. 

While he was no longer in the throes of employing Ministry political tactics necessary to pass legislation, he would still often help Hermione. Identifying individuals who might be sympathetic to her causes, changes to wording to appeal to a specific committee he knew would be overseeing the document proposing new regulations, as well as offering advice on how to appeal to the small percentage of Ministry officials who still tended to quietly resist change. 

Political antics aside, he would put her firmly in the category of work friend who was a casual acquaintance by chance alone. So, when she abruptly excused herself from the group after Fred asked Flora to share a dance with him, he figured Ginny would go check on her; perhaps Harry or Ron if the occasion called for it. No one had been more surprised than him when his name was floated by the numerous Weasleys in attendance as the best person for the job. 

As he entered through the back door and wandered into the golden kitchen which smelled of Earl Grey and the lingering hint of baked goods, he was not surprised to find Hermione sitting comfortably at the weathered wooden table. Sipping some freshly brewed tea from one of the chipped teacups while munching on a large slice of blueberry pie. 

"Hiding from a certain redheaded idiot?" he asked quietly from the doorway, trying to hide his amusement at the way Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as though she had been caught roaming the Hogwarts' castle afterhours. Quickly wiping away the remnants of the flaky buttery crust around her mouth as she stared unblinkingly at him.  

"In case you haven't noticed. There is a rather large gaggle of redheaded idiots gathered in the back garden. You are going to have to be a bit more specific."

"And I have the unfortunate circumstance of being related to all of them," he quipped, ignoring her request for specifics and striding towards the stove to help himself to a large helping of pie. Plopping down in a seat across from Hermione who didn't look pleased at the intrusion but didn't ask him to leave either. "May I hide from my family with you?"

"Won't Oliver miss you?"

"Not really," he remarked, taking a large bite of pie and humming happily. "When I left there were several people who were fighting over who got to dance with him first. I believe Penny will win that fight, though Ginny would be my second guess if punches start being thrown."

At the mention of dancing Hermione bit her lip and seemed to debate whether or not she was going to remark. He readjusted his glasses to try and appear nonchalant regarding her sudden change in mood. "Want to talk about it?"

"I suppose you're not leaving until I do."

Plucking a rogue blueberry from his plate and popping it into his mouth, he allowed the tartness to wash over his tongue as he regarded the witch in front of him. They really weren't so different, both of them held their emotions close to their chest, never letting people see when they were struggling or when they felt like failures. A pleasant expression plastered on their faces at all times, a facade to hide the sea of tumultuous thoughts currently waring against each other in their minds.

He also knew those thoughts tended to lend themselves to self-sabotage if left to fester for too long. 

"You supposed correctly. Let's start with an easy question," he began, popping a few more blueberries into his mouth. "How many boxes does Fred check off your list?"

"What makes you think I have a list?"

"Because you're Hermione Granger," he answered, shrugging as he settled comfortably in his seat. "Now, I know Quidditch enthusiast is a bit of a turn off, but I think once you look past that you will find his other more positive qualities outweigh this one minor setback. I suppose intelligence is on the list. Fred certainly has a great deal of brainpower, while never top of his class or a prefect he is by no means stupid. Couldn't be. He and his twin not only successfully launched a business in Diagon Alley after leaving school before graduating but also create all of their own products. Which probably means 'focused' and 'driven' are on the list as well. Loyal- he is a Gryffindor after all, especially when it comes to his friends and family. He can be kind as well, you know, when he chooses to be-"

"Is this your list or mine?" Hermione interrupted with an amused smile. 

He grinned back at her, shrugging nonchalantly. "I have a feeling our lists are eerily similar-"

She shook her head sadly, staring pensively down at her now empty plate. "Doesn't matter how many boxes Fred does or doesn't check off on a list which may or may not exist. I can't date him."

"Is it because you don't want to date him?"

"No-" Hermione huffed out. "It's because I can't date him."

"Any particular reason why you can't?"

His question was met with stony silence as the pair of them sat across from each other, Hermione busying herself with chewing on her bottom lip as she tugged on the frayed edges of her favorite cardigan. 

"If it's because you are worried about the reactions of the other Weasley family members then I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. In fact, from what I hear Ron has all but locked the two of you in a broom cupboard together until you were either snogging each other senseless or you at least talked things out."

Her eyes drifted to the back door of the Burrow as though she expected her well-meaning ex-boyfriend to come busting through at any moment to demand she declare her feelings for his older brother. "Ron has already given me similar reassurance regarding the Weasleys. As has Harry and Ginny. They all seem to think Fred and I might actually end up being quite good for each other. It's not like I don't want to go on a date with Fred. I just-"

"Can't," he finished for her when she trailed off with another wistful glance in the direction of the garden. "It is just one date. If it doesn't go well, or if you decide that you don't want to pursue a relationship with Fred, then you just politely decline the offer for another date. Nobody is going to get angry at you, especially if they are a Weasley."

"It's- it's a bit more complicated than that-," she took a ragged breath but trudged on with her explanation. "My relationship with my own parents hasn't ever quite been the same since I wiped their memories and sent them to Australia. For their own protection of course, but they don't see it like that. To them it was a betrayal of trust. The tension-" she shook her head, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she shared a look with him which indicated she suspected he knew exactly how she felt. "It's practically palpable when we are together, and our visits hardly ever end without some snide remark from them that just makes me want to start screaming. I know they don't hate me, but they certainly resent me for choosing to become embroiled in a war they never even tried to fully understand the gravity of. At this point I have practically given up even trying to explain myself or have a normal relationship with them. Your parents have sort of taken their place. If things ended badly with Fred then- then I wouldn't just be losing a boyfriend or whatever- I would be losing a family- the only family I have left-"

When she finished, she had crumpled in on herself as though the weight of her decisions lay too heavy on her shoulders to remain fully upright. Face buried in her arms, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Regret always had a funny way of sneaking upon someone without their notice. He couldn't remember a time when even a seemingly casual conversation shared with his parents hadn't been weighed down by some remembered trauma of the past. He suspected Hermione felt the same, burdened with a sense of duty which made her continue futile attempts at reconciliation, to redeem herself in their eyes. 

A former golden child. 

A fall from grace. 

He reached over to grab one of her hands and squeezed it tightly, concern drawing his eyebrows together as she lifted her head just enough to peek at him with red rimmed eyes. "You have always been family and will always have a family," he promised, offering Hermione a small smile which she halfheartedly returned. "The Weasley brood will ensure it. You will have so many redheaded idiots on your side you will grow sick of the lot. And trust me, if it comes down to you or Fred- my poor brother will be eating his Sunday meals on the front porch steps and waving at us through the window."

"Ginny said something similar, apparently I am the sister she always wanted and would trade me for any one of her brothers any day of the week," she said, biting her lip as she sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her arm. "Except for you of course."

"Somehow I highly doubt that, while she might be more hesitant to get rid of me than some of the others- given the right price she would absolutely make a trade."

Hermione gave a wet laugh, lifting her head and looking at him before staring back down at the now empty plate still sitting in front of her. "Sorry for completely breaking down on you like this, especially over something as silly as boy troubles."

"I have boy troubles as well sometimes," he said, still watching her face intently with concern. "And it isn't silly. I would probably feel the same way if I were in your shoes."

Hermione hummed, watching as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her cardigan, dabbing at the corners of her eyes for a few moments before she lifted her gaze to him. After a moment or so of careful staring, her idle movements halted as she opened her mouth a time or two until she finally found the words. "Do you think I have mucked up my chances with Fred too badly to be fixed? 

"No, my brother's had a crush on you for at least a year. Fairly certain a polite rejection of his offer for a real date isn't going to deter him from still trying to pursue you. Just wounded his pride a bit is all," he replied. "I do think you should talk to Fred, though. The sooner the better."

Hermione only sniffed harshly again, groaning as she continued to dab at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. "I was afraid you were going to suggest that."

When he and Hermione came back out, most people were now on the dancefloor as the string lights twinkled overhead. A quick glance and he spotted Fred and Flora along with Oliver who was dancing with Penny. Well, dancing might not be the correct word, the two of them seemed to be doing more talking than anything with the occasional awkward wiggle when one of them remembered they were on a dancefloor. While Oliver enjoyed dancing during their years at Hogwarts, he had always been far more interested in the social aspect of the house parties than anything else and Penny would only go to parties if Oliver was going so she would have someone to chat with besides himself. 

The other thing he noted was the musical selection wasn't featuring the normal instrumental orchestrations so common with Weasley functions, he actually recognized the current song playing from the radio. Oliver would be so pleased at the surprise- unless of course he was somehow responsible for this pleasant change of pace. Not outside of the realm of possibility he supposed, when exactly he would have found the time to select a playlist while preparing for his last match plus the tour was beyond him. However, he had learned to never doubt the man once he set his mind to something. 

Especially when it involved music. 

Just before he could give much more thought to the familiar melody as it filled the garden, a certain witch darted around behind him and ducked down low as she tried to hide her face in his suit jacket. "What the-?"  

"I changed my mind," Hermione hissed, glancing anxiously around as she tried to use him as a human shield while he was actively attempting to extract her from his person. "Let's just go back into the Burrow. It was never that serious anyways."

"You are drawing an enormous amount of attention to us," he hissed back at her, attempting to pull one of his nicest suits out of her claw-like grip in an attempt to avoid wrinkles which would take him hours to resolve. 

"Then quit moving. I need you to hide me," Hermione ducked low once more, her bushy brown hair sticking out from behind his slim frame. Rendering the entire endeavor rather futile in his opinion.

He grasped her arm and towed her along behind him towards the dancefloor. Ignoring her repeated attempts to convince him this was a truly terrible idea, and they should abandon it immediately. "We had a deal. You dance a few songs with Fred and see how you feel from there."

Hermione wasn't quite convinced but at least she stopped struggling against him and seemed to resign herself to her fate. Begrudgingly allowing him to pull her along by the wrist. Honestly, he thought to himself as he re-scanned the numerous mops of ginger hair for one in particular. There are worse things in this world than having his younger brother step all over your toes for a few minutes. 

"The Burrow is always so warm and nice. Perhaps we could go back, have some more pie and unpack our multitude of traumas," she tried again, rising to nearly her full height finally, although her shoulders remained rather hunched, trying to look small in the hopes that perhaps Fred wouldn't notice her. 

He paused from afar, watching as Flora and Fred danced together looking as if they were having fun but not as though they were sharing a particularly romantic moment. Sparing a glance to Hermione, she pressed her lips together, inhaled deeply, and then continued to march along behind him as he neared the two of them.  

"As lovely as all that sounds," he whispered to Hermione while urging her take a few steps forward so it didn't look like he was forcing the poor woman to do something against her will. "I fear you must share a dance with my brother. Now, channel whatever nerve led you to break into Gringotts pretending to be Bellatrix Lestrange and try not to look as though you were a first year caught breaking a rule by McGonagall."

With Hermione finally cooperating, though somewhat still unwillingly, he patiently waited until the end of one song to tap Fred on the shoulder. Grinning at his younger brother who turned to stare at the two of them with his brows knitted together and his mouth hanging slightly agape. 

"Mind if I cut in?" he asked, looking to Flora pointedly before glancing between Hermione and Fred in a silent attempt to communicate with her. Fred either didn't register the silent conversation or was simply too lovestruck with Hermione who was staring up at him shyly from underneath her long eyelashes to notice anything happening around him. Probably the latter considering how Fred currently found himself at a loss for words, an impossible feat if there ever was one. Not that he could blame him, Hermione looked absolutely stunning in her black velvet dress with the chiffon sleeves which glimmered an almost silver color. Coupled with her hair in an elegant updo and he was surprised there wasn't a line of men looking to try and share a dance with one of the members of the golden trio. 

Hermione caught his eye briefly, glancing between Fred and Flora before looking at him with a trace of concern. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at the side of Fred’s face, his jaw still slack as he took in the wonder that was the woman he had been hopelessly falling in love with for months now, before looking back to Hermione and shrugging, ever so slightly. 

Flora caught on rather quickly. "Of course," she gave his brother a dazzling smile before nodding pointedly at Hermione who was standing awkwardly off to the side and was now staring at Fred with cheeks a deep shade of pink. "Sorry Fred. I suppose you will have to find yourself a new dance partner. Come Percy, I heard Oliver inquiring about your whereabouts a few minutes ago. Don't want to keep him waiting."

He shot his friend a wonderous look as he wrapped an arm around Flora's waist and towed her onto the dance floor. The two of them falling into step together easily as the music slowed down quite a bit in tempo, forcing couples to get much closer to each other. He was certain one of his family members or family-in-law had something to do with it, a effort to further what was apparently a wide-reaching conspiracy to force Fred and Hermione to just work it out already. "Care to tell me why I must suddenly dance with you?" Flora asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and stepping a few centimeters closer to him. "Not that I mind."

"Sorry," he said, shooting her a small smile as he glanced over towards the couple in question. Grimacing as he witnessed Fred faltering with his hands as he seemed to wonder where to put them, eventually landing on Hermione's hips though his arms were so stiff the two of them swayed as though they were the toy soldiers from the production of The Nutcracker he saw with Penny last Christmas. "Had to try and intervene so those two idiots didn't keep dancing around each other. Might all end up being for naught though."

Flora arched a brow at him, her grin never faltering. "Didn't take you for the matchmaking type."

"I'm not normally," he admitted. "Doing it as a favor so my idiot little brother and my clueless friend can at least attempt to be happy. Sorry I had to ruin your dance though-"

"S'nothing," Flora laughed at his pained expression as he witnessed both Fred and Hermione staring down at their now unmoving feet before glancing back up at each other with wide eyes. It was as if the two of them had never had a social interaction before and hadn't been seen dancing the night away at George and Angelina's engagement party. They had been quite close then if memory served him correctly. "If I'm being honest your brother is a little young for me. Not saying he isn't nice and all, we just didn't have much in common and I sort of got the impression he was on the rebound anyways. You actually did me a favor, I was sort of hoping someone would come interrupt us so I wouldn't have to be the one to initiate the exit."

"Glad I could be of assistance," he muttered darkly, shaking his head as Fred and Hermione bumbled their way through what should have been a scene straight out of one of those rom coms he had been forced to watch on multiple occasions. 

Flora hummed, following his gaze as she seemed to analyze the scene before them. She looked back at him and smiled warmly. "They will either figure it out or they won't. Nothing more you can do about it. Though, you are a good big brother for at least attempting."

"Try telling the twins that-"

"The twins are idiots," a deep Scottish brogue sounded behind him, halting him in his step as he turned slowly to be met with Oliver's warm brown eyes sparkling at him. "I wouldn't listen to a single thing that falls out of their mouths. Especially when it regards you."

Penny nodded; her arms crossed across her chest as she looked at him with a sort of fierce protectiveness which was reflected on Oliver's face as well. "I agree with Oliver. While your entire family has never truly appreciated how great and wonderful you are, the twin idiots are the worst offenders."

He looked to Penny and Oliver who were both nodding at each other in some sort of silent agreement on his family's treatment of him. Not that he should be surprised. The two of them were always a bit overprotective of him, especially when it came to the twins and their scathing remarks or pranks meant to publicly humiliate him. Fred and George hadn't known what hit them when Oliver became Quidditch captain in his fourth year and finally had the authority to assign extra drills when he witnessed his best mate breaking down because he just couldn't understand why his family wasn't proud of his achievements. Things got significantly worse when Penny became a prefect and could dock points from Gryffindor as well as assign detention, two things Oliver couldn't do but often threatened. 

Supposing he should be grateful for two friends who so fiercely loved him, even when he didn't always feel he deserved that sort of unconditional devotion and affection. 

"Come on," he sighed, rolling his eyes up towards the sky as Oliver narrowed his at George who was glancing over at the four of them curiously from across the dancefloor; blanching as he was met with his old Quidditch captain's ire while having done nothing to earn it for once. "I don't need you starting a fight with any of my family members. We shall have to dance together so I can properly monitor your behavior."

"Not so fast," Flora replied testily just as he and Oliver were reaching their hands out to clasp their fingers together. 

"What-" he gasped out as Flora skirted around the back of him and claimed Oliver's arm before anyone else could try and steal her new dancing partner. 

Flora's tiny hand tightened around Oliver's bicep, giving the burly keeper a sideways appreciative glance before replying to his half-formed question. "I am not going to miss my one shot to dance with Oliver. You have no idea how popular he has been all night, didn't feel like fighting off a hoard of people earlier."

He glanced around him bewildered, looking to Oliver for help who just shrugged unhelpfully and grinned down at Flora who looked rather proud of herself. "But-"

"Weasley," Flora held up a well-manicured hand to stop his protests. "Now my friends are going to hear all about how I officially met the new captain of Puddlemere United. They are going to be insanely jealous, by the way. I will not miss out on the opportunity to further their wishes to be me by not taking advantage of the opportunity to share one dance. You may have him back afterwards."

Oliver responded by turning to Flora, gently taking her hand in his own and giving her a slight bow, which elicited a high-pitched giggle from his friend recently turned stealer of his date for the evening. "Would you prefer a waltz or tango?"

Charming bastard, he muttered to himself as he witnessed Oliver twirling Flora about before dramatically tipping her over one arm, the witch laughing at him as he did so. 

"We will just see where the night takes us," Flora grinned up at Oliver, taking his proffered arm as he led the two of them out onto the crowded dancefloor where the guests quickly engulfed them. He probably would have lost sight of them completely were it not for the fact Oliver was quite tall, his brown hair bobbing along as Flora's laughter grew fainter. 

"He has no idea how to tango!" he called after them earning him a glare from Oliver who must have stood on his tiptoes because suddenly, he could see the just enough of his face to realize he was sticking his tongue out at him. "Seriously, watch your toes!"

"Want to get something to drink?" Penny asked, turning on her heel to aim towards the table holding flutes of bubbling Champaigne and a giant ice sculpture which was an almost exact replica of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. He didn't give a verbal answer, just started to follow along behind her when he realized with a start that he was quite parched at the moment. Having forgotten to make himself tea while chatting with Hermione earlier and thus having nothing to wash down the sweet and tangy blueberry pie he munched on. 

As they neared the table, he found the enchanted ice sculpture incredibly detailed and thankfully sans any deatheater likenesses. It alternated between two different depictions in a continuous loop. The first scene portrayed the castle in near ruins immediately post-battle, hundreds of people milling around the front steps all hugging and cheering post-victory. Complete with all varieties of dragons perched atop the many spires and watching over the people below. A nod to Charlie and his fellow dragon trainers' assistance during the battle when they arrived riding the very creatures they had dedicated their lives to protecting, who then in turn protected them. 

The second scene showcased the fully restored version many of them saw just that morning, a figurine which looked suspiciously like Professor McGonagall standing in front of the open front doors and ushering in a new group of students clad in robes and carrying trunks filled with books and parchment. To the side of the sculpture sat a long list thanking anyone who helped with clean-up efforts or donated money to the cause. 

One name in particular stood out to him. 

He also noted with a huff of quiet laughter there were three hoops sitting at either end of a pitch with numerous tiny ice figurines riding on broomsticks zooming around. One scene depicted fourteen people playing a rousing game of Quidditch in front of a roaring crowd, while the other showcased the valiant effort to save the burning pitch as well as attack the invading deatheaters from above.

Oliver had led the charge without any hesitation. 

"What are you doing?"

It was at that moment he realized how far he was leaning over the Quidditch pitch replica, muttering to himself like some sort of maniac as he inspected each of the figurines as though desperately searching for a certain someone amongst the chaos of a hard-won victory. He supposed he had been, if he was being honest with himself. "I was just- um- trying to figure out which one of these tiny ice humans looked most like- uh- Oliver."

"Oh, you've got it bad," Penny remarked with her own chuckle, nearing him and leaning in close to the sculpture as well. Her eyebrows furrowing together in concentration as she looked at each of the tiny ice people in turn, tapping her chin then shaking her head in what he assumed was her own method of ruling out the noncontenders. Eventually, she hummed, glancing over at him before pointing towards one particular figurine at the far end of the pitch. "I would say that one, not so much because it necessarily looks like Oliver, more of a general vibe."

He had to agree with Penny's assessment. The figurine in question had its' fist raised in the air, head turned back towards the others as though shouting out commands and attempting to get everyone into some semblance of a formation. Very Oliver-esque. "Definitely," he nodded. "Now that that's settled, let's find a nice place to sit for a bit."

The two briefly caught each other's gaze before they broke out in smiles, laughter quickly followed at the absurdity of their endeavor. Fueled by the self-refilling flute gripped in his hand and the general levity he felt despite the overarching sadness of despair this day usually dredged up within him. 

Despite his best efforts to be completely and utterly miserable he found he was rather enjoying May 2nd. Something he never thought he would be able to say with any amount of sincerity. Simply hollow words he would repeat in a monotone voice to appease his mother who insisted everyone needed to start moving on from the war, from fighting deatheaters, from the death which surrounded each of them for years. In very different ways and circumstances, but the one common thread was that death had been an ever present constant in their lives for far longer than anyone their age should have to endure. 

Now the constant seemed to be their ability to laugh in spite of the horrors they lived through.

The summer sun warmed their faces as they all milled about the back garden of the Burrow, every now and then a quick breeze would carry with it a hint of freshly cut grass and the sound of laughter- pure and bright. 

Oliver and Flora were on their third dance together, not that he minded considering Oliver had motioned him over after the first song ended. He had just shaken his head with a grin, motioning for Oliver to continue having fun. He much preferred to watch at the moment, his heart warmed by the sight of Oliver being surrounded by Alicia, Lee, Katie, Louann, Harry, Ginny, and Neville who were all trying to learn some sort of dance from Luna who moved her arms around her body as if she were void of bones and tendons. None of them were quite getting it. Oliver and Flora looked more like they were one of those giant blow-up things sitting outside the muggle car lots when he went his father to buy the Ford Anglia all those years ago. 

The sight was cracking them both up, leaving them with their hands on the knees and gasping for air as they tried to avoid eye contact with each other lest they get themselves going once again. For two people who only met a few hours ago, they were becoming fast friends. 

He found Oliver's mere presence at the Burrow to be an effective salve for his nerves. So far, he had managed to escape the evening with only the most perfunctory of greetings to his parents. Turnes out that having the person you were dating show up unexpectedly was an effective strategy to avoid participating in the normal dog and pony show, which was normal Weasley functions, but especially those which involved remembrance of the war in any way.

No digs about his career at the Ministry. No reminders he hadn't initially aligned himself with Dumbledore and his family. No insinuations he simply sat in a cushy office for several years and did nothing to help any of his fellow witches and wizards. 

Surrounded by the numerous people celebrating the victory of the battle as laughter filled the air around him, he thought for a moment he could maybe deal internally with his parents' supposed knowledge of his time at the Ministry without having to interact with them much and avoid any possibility of an incident. Just allow himself to fade into the background of the evening, a quiet participant, content to observe from afar. 

Perhaps in another hour or so he and Oliver could make their goodbyes and retire to Oliver's flat for some wine by a roaring fire and simply have a conversation, perhaps a snogging session or two. 

Just him and Oliver. The way it was supposed to be. 

Now that would be a celebration he wouldn't mind attending.  

The hour was now nearing seven in the evening, the sky changing from the dusty warm hues of sunset towards the dark blue of night as the stars glittered faintly overhead. Most of the guests had long since made their way home, leaving almost only family members and significant others in the garden as the celebration continued to wind down.

Oliver was supposed to be getting the two of them a glass of Champaigne for the Weasley family farewell toast as well as the robes they discarded while dancing together. It didn't take him long to locate him, standing near one of the refreshment tables on the opposite side of the garden and having a rather animated conversation with Ginny and Angelina as they seemed to be debating something. It looked like it was two to one, with Oliver being outnumbered.

He was sure to receive a full recap about whatever they were discussing later, especially if it involved anything even remotely related to Quidditch. Thoughts of Oliver made his heart flutter as he watched him across the lawn. He couldn't help but let a goofy grin settle across his face as he watched the man try in earnest to make his point heard, his arms waving about and nearly knocking over the two shoots of amber liquid sitting on the table and long forgotten.

Once again finding himself unable to take his eyes off the man as he tipped his head back at something Ginny said, the family member's surrounding him oblivious to the warmth filling his chest as his heart thudded heavily at the glorious sight in front of him. 

He always thought Oliver looked his best when he was laughing, the usual hints of tension in his expression smoothing as his nose scrunched up emphasizing the light smattering of freckles across the tops of his cheeks and bridge of his nose. 

It was getting harder and harder to ignore this feeling in his chest, a constant weight anchoring him to the man who was quickly consuming every thought racing through his mind. A fixed point around which he seemed to spin maddeningly around, unable to control the rate at which he was falling for Oliver Wood.

This was not a slow decent, it was a freefall. 

He could no longer stop it... probably wouldn't even if he could somehow find a way if he was being honest with himself. 

"Percival Ignatius?" a familiar, yet unwelcome voice called his full given name and abruptly pulled him out of his internal musings. Feeling his heart drop into his stomach as he slowly turned around to face his great aunt who was wearing a truly dreadful powder blue sunhat with what looked to be a raggedy moth-eaten bird-esque thing on top of it. 

"Aunt Muriel," he responded coolly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

His aunt fixed him with a hard stare, the amount of sheer disdain and judgement hit him like seven stunning curses. Enough to bring down an adult dragon, unfortunately he didn't have the added benefit of scales like iron nor the ability to eat people. Both would be highly useful right about now. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Not so surprising," he said. "Considering this is my childhood home and I was invited by both of my parents if you would believe it."

His aunt made a dismissive noise deep in the back of her throat. "Still working for the Ministry?" 

"Yes-" he replied through gritted teeth.

"You were always prattling on about becoming Minister of Magic. Should I be expecting an announcement in the Prophet any day now?"

Just before he could reply, Oliver appeared beside him. Without a single perfunctory greeting he ripped the glass from the outstretched hand with more force than he meant to, wincing slightly at the mixture of shock and concern on Oliver's face as he watched him down it in one gulp. Nodding his thanks, he tried to soften the edges of his mouth and smooth out the crease between his eyebrows while waiting for the empty glass to refill itself. 

"Hello," Oliver greeted in a falsely casual voice, turning to offer a nod of acknowledgement to the red-headed woman grinding her teeth in front of him. "I believe we met briefly at George and Angelina's engagement party. Forgive me for not quite remembering your name."

"This is my Great Aunt Muriel-" he seethed out, taking a few sips of his drink so as not to start rumors about him having a drinking problem. Normally he would have proudly exclaimed he was dating the gorgeous and slightly confused man standing next to him, but he didn't want the interaction to continue any further than it already had. "I am sure you know who he is if you pay even the slightest bit of attention to the professional Quidditch scene. Now you've met. Let's go, dear, I believe we have quite a bit more dancing to accomplish."

Unfortunately for him, Oliver was a people pleaser by nature. Instead of allowing himself to be pulled away from the situation by the elbow he relied on his bulk to keep him firmly in place with minimal effort on his part. A highly effective method as it turned out, regardless of how much of his own body weight he threw into pulling on the man's arm there was no moving him. Oliver didn't even have the decency to pretend like he was exerting any effort. Just stood there casually while sizing up his great aunt who seemed to be doing the exact same thing. 

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," his date grinned, extending his free hand with a small bow like a true pure-blooded gentleman towards his great aunt. "I'm Oliver Wood."

While Oliver might be half-blood at best by wizarding societal standards his father was from a well-known pure-blood family line. Not one of the sacred 28, but certainly higher up in society than most others. As such he was aware of the customs, traditions, and expectations of someone from such a status. Something he was employing at the moment in what he could assume was an attempt at impressing the formidable witch in front of him. 

A deviation from his normal casual attitude towards life, but the gesture was appreciated even if it was not currently being received well by all parties involved. 

His great aunt made no reply, pursing her lips unpleasantly. Acting as if Oliver had made mention of an unseemly event not appropriate for proper conversation at a garden party, not bothering to offer her hand in return. Oliver's mouth, which had been tilted up, thinned out into something taut as he slowly stood back up and stuffed his offending hand into his robe pocket. "Must be the callouses. No worries, comes with the territory of being a professional Quidditch player. Nothing but broom drills from sunup to sundown in all weather conditions, even the most expensive of leather gloves aren't enough to protect my poor little palms. Love my job but makes it difficult to assimilate back into polite society."

"I presume this is the boyfriend?" his aunt asked, not amused in the slightest by Oliver's attempt at humor as her eyes roamed the form of his date without the usual glimmer of appreciation he was used to seeing. 

"You presume correctly-" he answered in a bored drawl. 

Oliver, Merlin bless his sweet little soul, wrapped an arm around his waist to tow him closer to him. Staring up at him as the tension slowly melted off his face and was replaced with an emotion he couldn't quite place, a sort of reverent fondness with something unknown twinkling in his eyes. "I know what you are going to say, 'he is lucky to have a boyfriend such as me.' I can assure you that I am the lucky one. I heard mention of the likelihood we will have a Minister of Magic in the family- I assume Percy was filling you in on how he is putting in his application for the next Minister of Transportation. His boss asked him to highly consider going out for the position, on account of how much he impressed him with his work ethic and attention to detail. Our Perce is a real go getter, eh? Just twenty-five or so and already a front runner for department head. One of the youngest ones in the history of the Ministry according to my research, you see I am his campaign manager of sorts due to my propensity for excelling at strategy-"

Under the intense gaze of his aunt, he could see Oliver's newly restored grin faltering around the edges, so the man did what he always did best when he was nervous or uncomfortable- talked people's ears off. "Not that Percy's success at the Ministry is that surprising. I mean- you should hear his idea for the independent project, truly inspired. Though, I might be a bit biased. Not just because I am dating the most wonderfully thoughtful and intelligent man in the entire universe but also because it involves improving the cushioning charm on broomsticks. Truly revolutionary. No one has thought to make any improvements since the early 1900's. He showed me his initial diagrams and I was blown away by the sheer amount of thought which went into the design while keeping in mind not only the mechanics of flight but also what might be necessary for the individual positions. Most people don't realize this, but each position has a different center of gravity. As a keeper my center is towards the back of my broom which means quite a lot of pressure is being put on my tailbone for extended periods of time. Having something a bit more ergonomic is a luxury I would be incredibly thankful for, especially after playing a long match. Won't have a working prototype by the semi-finals, but perhaps by the finals. If we qualify of course, while we are favored to win against Pride of Portree for the semi-finals there is always the possibility of an upset. Currently our season is 2-1 in our favor when it comes to that team, they have a killer offense- in fact the one time we lost against them they-"

"I take it you are with him then," his aunt interrupted Oliver's ramblings with a curt nod towards the great nephew in question. 

Oliver frowned as his head swiveled between his date and the woman staring at them as though he were trying to solve a puzzle and failing miserably. "Well- yeah?-" the man scratched his head as his nose scrunched up in confusion. "I mean- I am dating him- so yeah- I am with him?"

"That's not quite what she meant," he groaned at the thought of having to speak for any length of time with his extended family members. The beginnings of a migraine were pounding away behind his eyes, causing him to rub at his forehead in an attempt to stave it off. Unfortunately, this took his attention away from Oliver who had apparently decided that his Gryffindor chivalry and loyalty were needed at this moment. 

"What exactly did you mean?" Oliver asked, the edges of his calm demeaner wavering as a coldness crept into his voice. When he finally raised his eyes, he was surprised to find that Oliver had opted to drop the arm around his waist to stand in front of him with his legs spread apart and hands resting firmly on his hips as though shielding him from a perceived threat. His aunt looked entirely unfazed at being questioned so directly, crossing her arms as she continued to glare up at the man standing nearest to her. 

The two of them were squaring up like a pair of wildcats. His aunt was likely thinking up several scathing remarks to hurl at him while Oliver was likely considering the repercussions of having an all-out duel with one of his date's family members. 

"Were you a Ministry sympathizer?" his aunt clarified with a curl of her lip. "Like him-"

"Don't you dare speak about Percy like that," Oliver spat out.

Apparently, Oliver had stopped all pretense of civility in favor of defending his honor.

"Oliver, I really don't think-" he tried to reason, only to be cut off by a large hand raised at him in a shushing motion. 

"You just let me handle her," Oliver continued on, moving a bit to the right to block him further from his aunt's furious gaze. "Funnily enough I don't remember seeing you at the Battle of Hogwarts. Certainly don't remember you staging any protests against the treatment of muggle-born witches and wizards. You definitely weren't an Order of the Pheonix member, nor did you help with the evacuation efforts for the thousands of innocent victims. Did you speak out at all or do anything worthy of note during the second rise of Voldemort? Because let me tell you something, you miserable old woman, just because someone didn't necessarily follow Dumbledore blindly doesn't mean they were sympathetic towards the Ministry and what they stood for."

"And do you really think he did anything of note?" his aunt's shrill cry brought a still hush over the straggling partygoers, made up entirely now of his family and their significant others. Even the music had stopped as people began moving towards them to see what the fuss was about. "He has no right to be here today. This is no place for traitors."

The back garden was near silent as the word hung heavily in the air. Traitor?

He was struck speechless; after all these years, after everything he had done to attempt to make amends- this was still how he was viewed. 

One quick glance over at Oliver and he knew this wasn't going to end without a fight. The vein on the man's neck was practically pulsing, fury radiating off of him in waves as his hands clenched together at his sides. Where was back-up when you needed them? The only people close enough to hear everything being said at the moment were his extended family members and Ron, fat lot of good any of them would do. He could make out Ginny and Harry quickly making their way over, followed closely by George and Angelina who were making a valiant effort to fight their way through the thick crowd of Prewitts and Weasleys. His parents were next, rushing over as well with a frantic Sirius and Remus pulling on them while waving their hands towards him and Oliver; concern etched into every line of their faces. 

Unfortunately for his aunt he didn't think they were going to get here fast enough, and he didn't fancy his chances against an Oliver with blind rage on his side. The man was significantly stronger than him on a normal day, let alone when there was adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

"HOW DARE YOU! How dare you insinuate that he was a traitor!" Oliver screamed, paying no mind to the approaching calvary, moving forward to quickly close the meter or so separating him from the person insulting his date. Fire in his eyes and purpose in each step as he pointed an index finger at his aunt who looked mildly stunned, taking a few startled steps backwards from the approaching bulk of a man coming at her. "And I will tell you one thing, he did plenty of note," Oliver challenged, ignoring the man desperately pulling on his arm yet again to try and get him to just walk away from the situation before things escalated further. "He did more for the war efforts than most of the Order members combined. He 'lost' paperwork which contained names and information for people on the muggle-born registry. Changed details so the registry enforcement officials were going after people who didn't exist or were showing up to empty fields of wildflowers, abandoned warehouses, anywhere which didn't put innocent lives at risk. Or showing up days after they were originally scheduled only to find the house empty and no forwarding addresses or known places of residence for remaining family members. Slipped vital information on the Ministry's plans to Order informants," Oliver paused to take a shaky breath, glaring at the small gathering of people who stood behind his aunt and were staring open-mouthed at the scene before them. "Percy worked for the Minister of Magic himself, spent countless hours with known deatheaters. He knew what they were capable of, yet still had the courage to do the right thing and commit what they viewed as treason. An offence punishable by torture and an extended stay in Azkaban. Perhaps even death if they weren't feeling particularly generous that day. He fought in that final battle, with no second thought. Stood alongside his family members and protected them and countless others. So do not stand in my presence and accuse him of sympathizing with the Ministry and never insinuate that he isn't worthy of being here today, far more worthy of it than any of you are!" 

His jaw dropped open in stunned silence. Apparently, espionage was not his strong suit, considering that this made two people today who informed him of his own actions during the war. How in Godric's name Oliver knew that much was simply beyond his current ability to comprehend. What he needed now were some de-escalation tactics, unfortunately those were not covered during his orientation at the Ministry. 

His aunt only scoffed her disbelief. "You think any of that absolves him of what he said to his father when he stormed out of the house? You think a few good deeds makes up for what he put his poor mother through? Put his entire family through?"

He felt something buried deep within him break. 

It was as if all the air had been stolen from his chest in a single instant, leaving him gasping soundlessly as the murmurs from the bystanders muddled together as though he were standing underwater. Watching the scene unfold through a hazy lens. 

He had never been very good at making people proud; making people love him. 

Never quite enough. 

No apology he uttered from the depths of his wounded soul would ever be enough for his family, no amount of pleading for their love, their acceptance, the forgiveness would ever bring it about for him. It was as though the very breath he breathed was an act of betrayal to his family. They would always think him capable of being a willing participant to the horrors Voldemort and his followers inflicted upon muggles and muggle-borns, a staunch advocate for the discriminatory policies set out by the Ministry. 

Always viewed as a traitor, the boy who broke his mother's heart.

He couldn't take it anymore. He wouldn't take it anymore. 

"Percy?" Oliver asked tentatively, his worried tone suggesting this might not be the first time he had said his name, merely the first time he had been capable of a response. If you could call him giving a few short gasps and staggering backwards a response. Oliver rushed forward to wrap him in his arms, after a long minute Oliver pulled back slightly and lifted his chin to meet his eyes, using his thumb to stroke his cheek gently. "You good?"

"Fine," he lied through the tears he refused to let fall, making the mistake of cutting his eyes over at his aunt who stood looking quite proud of herself as she silently gloated over the carnage her words left in their wake. 

He liked to think himself logical. Fair. Level-headed to a fault.

Then again, he was a Weasley. They weren't exactly famous for their ability to hold their tempers and think rationally about a situation before flying off the handle. He was never afforded that luxury however, always being cast as the good one- the golden child. The one who never needed anything. Who was always expected to let the insults and the constant mockery roll off his back, who was never allowed to show any emotion which wasn't positive. Always expected to never rise to the bait and allow his anger and frustration to bubble to the surface. 

He couldn't allow himself to get angry. However, at the moment the wild card was Oliver who looked positively murderous, his upper lip curled up in a snarl as his left hand inched closer to his back jeans pocket where he knew he kept his wand. Tightening his grip on the man's right arm to keep him from listening to his more impulsive side and doing something stupid. 

"Don't listen to her Perce!" he heard the voice of either Fred or George call out from somewhere nearby. 

"Let the old hag have it!" the other twin yelled out, probably accompanied by a lewd gesture of some sort if he knew his brothers. 

Before Oliver could, in fact, let the old hag have it, he gave a low warning sound deep in the back of his throat. "Don't," he hissed out, giving his date a pleading look. "I can handle this."

"You just give me the word," Oliver replied tersely, glancing over to see if his hesitant compliance had appeased him, and crossing his arms over his chest when it seemed that it had. "I will hex your aunt and that ghastly charity shop hat into another millennium."

His aunt gasped at the sheer audacity of someone speaking to her with such blatant disrespect. Going so far as to clasp one hand over her heart while the other came to rest on her forehead, swaying slightly as though she were about to faint from the fright. "Well, I never!"

"Oh, don't get too excited," Oliver huffed out with an accompanying eye roll at the overdramatics. "Wearing a poor attempt at taxidermy of a bird you found dead on the side of the road won't be in style there either."

A collective cheer sounded from behind him, followed by the numerous voices of his siblings all laughingly commending Oliver on his ability to put their aunt in her place and giving him increasingly inappropriate suggestions for what he could say next. 

One of his aunt's sons stepped up to put a steadying arm around his mum who collapsed into him, acting terribly wounded at the thought of her hat choice for the evening being the butt of some joke for months to come. He leveled Oliver with a hardened gaze that only made the other man roll his eyes again and lift one eyebrow as if daring him to actually do something. "Watch your mouth young man!" 

"You're the ones who need to watch your mouths," Oliver stated, looking at them almost dully. "If you can't find a nice thing to say about Percy then perhaps you just shouldn't speak at all. And if you can't manage that on your own then I will help you by hexing your mouths shut permanently."

This was somehow going to end up on the front page of the Prophet, he just knew it.

Errant curse thrown at civilized function by the former keeper for Puddlemere United. Prewitt matriarch still missing weeks later. Believed to be somewhere in the middle of the Sahara Desert without adequate food or water. Disgraced Quidditch star shows no remorse, claims 'the old hag had it coming.'

It seemed as if Oliver had calmed down a bit, giving him a kind smile before wrapping an arm around his waist and towing him against his side once again with a kiss atop his head. Glancing around he found all of his family members had finally made their way over to them. His mum was dragging her hands down her face as though she wished to die and be buried at that exact spot while his dad looked as though this was simply the best day of his entire life, going so far as to bounce on the balls of his feet while clapping his hands. Fred, George, and Ron were grinning ear to ear, pumping their fists in the air as they spurred Oliver on to continue his defense of their brother. Ginny and Harry looked like two proud parents at a little league Quidditch match. Bill and Angelina were taking a neutral approach, carefully watching the scene with unreadable expressions as though they hadn't yet decided if they should back Oliver up or drag him kicking and screaming into the Burrow. Fleur and Hermione were a bit more wary of the situation. 

“Do something,” he heard Hermione hiss, furtively glancing to Fred who just shrugged and towed her closer to him with a ridiculous grin on his freckled face. Realizing her possible future-boyfriend was absolutely no help she set her sites on Harry only to find him idly grinning with his chin resting on Ginny's shoulder. Both of them looking as though they were the most comfortable, they’d ever been in their life, and if he knew them as well as he thought he did also ready to jump in without a moment's hesitation. 

“I’d rather let this play out, if I’m honest,” Harry said. "Oliver tends to be quite quick to hex first and ask questions later, rather not find myself on the receiving end of his wand."

"Flint never saw it coming," George shook his head, trying to hide the fact that he was chuckling as Angelina hit him on the shoulder and gestured towards Oliver as though to discourage him from giving their hot-headed former captain any additional ideas. "Took a week to get rid of those boils. Had to eat practically standing up."

Apparently, the calvary was more like the peanut gallery. He should have known better. "Thank you for defending me," he turned to Oliver who beamed up at him like a pleased puppy who had just mastered a new trick. "But I can handle it from here. I don't have to explain myself to you, to any of you," he stated cooly, making an attempt to hold his head up high. Boldened by the fact that Oliver was standing right next to him and though his family wasn't exactly stepping in they weren't condemning him either. "I made my choices during the war- the good- and the bad. I have faced the consequences of them all. As Oliver stated previously, I have just as much right to be here as anybody else. I won't waste my breath defending that right to any of you though, you aren't worth my time or energy."

Great Aunt Muriel's eyes zeroed in on him, but she made no move to counterargue any of the points just made regarding his role at the Ministry or his right to stand in the garden of the Burrow alongside his other family members. Always one to have the last word she hissed out the words, "you always were a disappointment."

A hush descended upon the crowd. Oliver stood silently staring at him as though waiting for directive, he felt his face burn in mortification at his inability to do or say anything in this moment. He furiously blinked back the hot tears once again stinging his eyes, staring unseeingly in front of him as though he’d been slapped. He wished that it had been a physical blow instead, at least then he would know how to defend himself.

As it were there wasn't much he could do, his aunt had decided who he was- what he was- and nothing was going to change her mind. 

He didn't want today to finally be the day he broke down in front of his family, so he decided it best to leave her with her thoughts and accusations. He’d said his peace and anything further would only be in anger. He took one steadying breath before turning on his heel and stalking back inside the house, fully expecting that Oliver was taking his lead and following along behind him.

A naive assumption if there ever was one.

He’d just made it to the steps of the back door when he heard Oliver's angry voice snap at his great aunt. "YOU BITCH!"

Chapter Text

"We lost so much in the fire of time, but something about you has got me feelin' alive. There must be magic inside your bones. When I got lost here, I'm not alone... when the lights go out, when the walls come down. When the world gets cold, you are my home... You feel like home." Hills x Hills- You Feel Like Home

The arms engulfing him tightened at his involuntary shiver despite the warmth coursing through him. He hadn't realized how exhausted he truly was until all the adrenaline suddenly drained from his body, leaving him feeling disconcerted and in need of a place to sit now that his family knew the truth regarding his time at the Ministry during the war. There were no longer any secrets in the Weasley family- none, there would no longer be any hiding, any lying, any omissions to spare his families' feelings. 

He could have collapsed at the sense of relief he felt with this knowledge- a freedom which he had never known. He pulled incrementally away so he could look up and potentially mutter out his thanks to the man who once again found himself consoling his date who was falling apart in the middle of the kitchen in his childhood home. He never quite got the chance- Oliver's eyes immediately began tracing over every inch of him, worry and fear and relief pouring out of him as one of his hands released from his lower back and reached out to cup his cheek. Something warm and certain unspooled within him. It was a bit disconcerting, but not in a way that should have struck fear into his heart. Soft, calm- like standing next to the ocean at sunset as the waves rolled in the salt spray gently washing over his body. 

For the first time since the fateful night he stormed out of the house after a row with his father he felt true peace. He'd almost forgotten what that was like, almost forgotten it was possible for him not to feel at war with himself. All he wanted was to hang onto this feeling for just a bit longer- just for tonight. 

Home had always been a tangible thing, something which he could point to directly.  Home was no longer a place, made of bricks or stones all haphazardly held together with magic.

It was now a person. A fixed point around which his world revolved.

All he wanted now was to simply be home, to be with Oliver. 

*a hour or so later*

He had been robbed-

Robbed of the opportunity to spend any meaningful time with Oliver during the one night they actually had together for the foreseeable future.

Ginny and Harry had dutifully followed behind Oliver and himself upon their departure from the Burrow and were currently sitting idly in the overstuffed armchairs with no indication they intended to leave anytime soon. He thought his constant narrow-eyed glares at their stupidly chipper faces would be enough for them to finally get the hint that perhaps they should vacate the premises- apparently not. 

They just continued to sit there while his date for the evening kept up with a constant supply of snacks and tea, playing the part of obliging host who also couldn't seem to take a hint that he had been hoping for a bit of alone time. Oblivious to the world. All of them, completely and utterly oblivious. 

He should call the aurors to forcibly remove the extra people from Oliver's flat but considering Harry was still part of that department he didn't think they would be much help. Probably would end up being invited to stay for refreshments by a certain people pleasing Quidditch player.  

Come tomorrow morning he and Oliver were going to have a long discussion regarding context clues and his date's incessant need to mother hen every single person who apparated through the front door.

"It's getting late," he remarked through gritted teeth at the two interlopers to the romantic evening he had haphazardly been plotting for the past hour or so. 

"Yeah," the red headed she-devil, and the man she insisted upon marrying, handed him a cup of freshly brewed tea from the tray on the coffee table as he sat underneath a mound of blankets they had insisted upon piling atop him earlier. "And?"

"You live somewhere else."

Harry's only response was to pick up the remote and turn on the television, flipping aimlessly through the channels with his feet slung over the side of the armchair. Finally landing on a rerun of a Quidditch match between the Tornadoes and Harpies a few years ago, settling into the cushions with a loud slurp of his own cup of tea. "So do you, mate."

Thankfully his sister was a bit more perceptive now that she was finally aware of the way he was staring daggers at the two of them. Shaking her head at her fiance who was fully engrossed in the match and calling for Oliver to finish up with the latest round of snacks so they could watch it together. "Perhaps we could watch the match at home-" 

"Oh, sorry, Perce!" Harry cut his eyes over at him for a moment before a particularly close call with a bludger by one of the players once again captured his attention, yelling insults at the television while giving a play by play to Oliver who demanded on knowing exactly what was happening while he wasn't in the room. "Forgot you don't like Quidditch as much as the rest of us. What would you like to watch?" Harry finally asked distractedly, giving no indication he planned to change the channel or just, you know, leave in general. 

Ginny let out a low groan, running her hands down her face as her fiance was once again staring at the television and blissfully unaware to how close his future brother-in-law was to throwing him headfirst onto the street. "Harry, dear- perhaps we should-"

"Of course Percy likes Quidditch! He just doesn't always show his enthusiasm and passion for the greatest sport to ever exist in the most obvious of fashions," Oliver interrupted with a wink in his direction, appearing in the doorway with a plate full of fresh snacks grasped in his hand and another pot of tea in the other. "Is this the match where Robinson took out Flint with what appeared to be a flick of her wrist while her back was turned from the goal posts?"

"Yep," Harry nodded enthusiastically, taking a handful of offered water biscuits topped with blueberry goat cheese and sharing a grin with Oliver as though they were two buddies who were simply hanging out on a Saturday afternoon instead of one of them only being in town for less than twelve hours before he had to be back in Germany for another two weeks. "Thankfully we caught the match just as it started so we haven't missed any of the really good plays."

"Wicked," Oliver plopped down on the sofa cushion next to him, propping his feet up on the coffee table and stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. Turning slightly to face him and cocking his head as he took in his narrowed eyes and flared nostrils. "Don't worry, Flint sadly made a full recovery and continues to annoy me to this day. Fantastic arm Robinson had, though, top notch. Hate it for the Harpies that she decided to retire to her family farm in Australia but loved it for my team. Did you know her backhand was so powerful that from halfway across the pitch she could-"

He didn't really care what Robinson had been capable of doing on the Quidditch pitch at the height of her career, nor did he care to hear Harry and Oliver discussing the various tactics utilized during the match which apparently drug on for nearly ten hours while he and Ginny watched on in stunned silence at how two seemingly intelligent people could possibly be this dense. 

Read the room oh boy-who-lives-to-cock-block and the Quidditch obsessed buffoon who enables him. 

"Look at them! I have never seen two beaters more in sync for a flawless Dopplebeater Defense since Fred and George when you were captain!"

"Are you kidding me? The only reason the Dopplebeater Defense ever worked with them was down to pure brute strength and a love of smashing bludgers into things. Getting the two of them to focus and stick to a consistent strategy was like herding a litter of feral kittens. There was nothing in sync about it that could even compare to the Harpies when Robinson was on the team- you just don't remember correctly."

Merlin, help him! At this rate he would be up half the night having to listen to incessant chatter about Quidditch and Quidditch adjacent subjects. Ginny and Harry probably wouldn't leave either. No, around midnight or so Harry would casually remark on the time and Oliver would invite them to stay in one of the guest rooms. They would accept the invitation with his luck. How was he supposed to have a romantic evening with his date when his sister was in the same house? He didn't care if he knew how to cast silencing charms, no amount of them warded around Oliver's bedroom would obliviate the knowledge from his brain that his little sister and Harry were nearby. Now that was not an image he needed popping up at inopportune moments this evening. 

It was bad enough he had been waiting for a moment alone with Oliver for quite a while now. His dreams becoming more frequent and vivid with each passing morning he woke alone in his own bed, his body frustrated with want even as his mind revolted at the nocturnal imaginings of his sleeping brain. He might think they truly happened were it not for the distinct lack of a burly Quidditch player lying next to him.

The Quidditch player in question was finally within his grasp but the other stuff remained just beyond his current reach. He supposed he could simply start snogging Oliver on this couch and perhaps the two unnecessary bodies would finally get out of the armchairs and be on their merry little way. He didn't care where they went, they just weren't allowed to be here. 

Oliver had now moved his hand to his knee, tracing lazy circles on the pair of trackpants he borrowed while keeping up a steady stream of conversation with Harry and Ginny, who had abandoned her plan to help him and was also yelling at the television as though she hadn't ever seen this match before. Traitor. His own family, his favorite sibling if he was being honest with himself, abandoning him in his hour of need for Quidditch. Typical...

He swallowed the nervousness in his throat as Oliver's fingers left his knee and traveled halfway up his thigh. By most standards he was an idiot regarding anything even remotely related to falling and staying in love. So far it had been Oliver who had moved the relationship along. Not tonight- tonight he would take the Quidditch player by the broom and not allow his own internal musings to stand in his way. 

Well, no use delaying the inevitable. He needed to extract the interlopers from the armchairs, they had been hanging about far too long at this point. Their presence in the flat was neither needed nor wanted and he would not stand for it any longer. Unfurling himself from the mound of blankets he gave a series of very pointed coughs until he had three pairs of eyes trained on his face and a fresh cup of tea being forced upon him by Oliver who apparently thought he had a tickle in his throat. "Thank you both for checking up on me, but as you can see Oliver has it under control. Your assistance is no longer of any use."

"But- Percy-" Harry whined at the same time Oliver pouted and gestured toward the television where the Tornadoes were quickly making their way through the list of seven hundred possible fouls and adding in a few new ones for good measure. 

Ginny held up one hand to stop the inevitable protests from the two oblivious Quidditch fanatics, her head nodding between him and Oliver as she glared at the thick-headed love of her life. "It- is- getting- late-"

"Oh," Harry's eyes brightened as he finally caught onto what his fiance was referring to. "Oh. Well, would you look at the time? We should really get going. Wouldn't want to- interrupt- anything. Come along Ginny."

"Fantastic idea," he grumbled, as Oliver slowly lifted himself off the couch with his brows knitted together and a slight frown to see his guests to the door. He crossed his arms in a huff and remained firmly seated where he was in defiant protest. "Truly inspired, it's no wonder you were able to defeat the darkest wizard of our time with that sort of deductive reasoning at your fingertips."

Ginny and Harry shared an amused glance before snickering and cooing at him in a volume so loud he was surprised the entire neighborhood wasn't aware of his plans for Oliver and himself. Not that any of them would actually get to come to fruition at this rate.

"Bye, bye dear brother of mine. Have fun with your boyfriend!"

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do. Wouldn't want to tire Ollie out before he has to be at practice tomorrow morning."

"What are you talking about?" his sister snorted, pausing as she prepared to finally make her way home. "Percy, please consider doing quite a few things that we would most certainly do- and in very compromising positions!"

He practically snarled at the two of them as they laughingly waved goodbye to him before disapparating to their own flat with a resounding pop. Leaving him and Oliver in a tense silence without the buffer of other people to take away from the reality they were now truly alone- and in Oliver's flat late at night, nonetheless. 

The man was just standing in the entranceway with his mouth gaping open and his cheeks aflame, having finally caught onto why his date had been so desperate to get rid of the two spare humans. Neither of them saying anything as they made awkward eye contact with each other. He should probably look away- he wanted to look away- but that would almost be like admitting defeat. In the most endearing of ways, he was completely hopeless when it came to love. Never quite knowing exactly how to initiate anything or move a relationship along, so he just bumbled his way through life. 

He supposed he could bumble his way through this evening. He had to at least do something- Oliver was standing right there looking gorgeous as always, yet he wasn't currently engaged in snogging him senseless. A situation he planned to remedy as soon as he could get his brain working properly again and remember how to string two words together as well as how to use his hands. 

In the end he did nothing, just tracked Oliver's movements as he cautiously moved towards him. Probably weirded out by the constant and intense eye contact but at this point he couldn't look away; it was like a compulsion. He must keep staring down Oliver as though he were a territorial hippogriff sizing up his opponent. 

"Um- I- uh-" Oliver stammered out as he slowly sat down on the cushion next to him, leaving quite a bit of space between them, staring numbly at the television in a desperate attempt to not have to meet his eyes again. Eyes which were currently boring a hole into the side of his face. "That move right there, that's called the Double Eight Loop. Aptly named because it's a move typically used by the keeper during a penalty shot where they literally fly around the hoops at top speed in a double eight loop. Believed to first be used in the 1928 World Cup by-"

Quidditch? This idiot was going to speak to him about Quidditch at this very moment?

Just perfect. Just bloody perfect.

It couldn't have been more than a quarter of an hour of the two of them sitting on the couch, where the space felt too small, the room too silent- but it felt like a lifetime had passed. The seconds ticking by at an almost amusingly slow rate, only adding to the mounting tension between them.

With each passage of time his skin felt more like it was thrumming with some sort of energy he couldn't quite control, barely resisting the urge to fidget or wring his hands like he would normally do to soothe his nerves. 

He knew Oliver must also be feeling the awkwardness between them, more intuition on his part actually. Only evidence he had was the pretty blush which was now a permanent fixture on the man's cheeks. It was a good look, he decided after sneaking another sideways glance over at the burly keeper whose cheeks turned an even darker pink at realizing he was being watched yet again. He should have looked away immediately, but he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. Something about seeing the normally confident man somewhat flustered and unsure caused him to draw in a deep breath, feeling something warm and certain unspool within him.

Feeling his own temperature rise as his tongue grew heavy in his mouth when Oliver finally turned to look at him properly, opening his mouth before his eyes dilated and he snapped his jaws closed. In what he assumed was an attempt to explain his odd reaction Oliver reached for one of the teacups, taking a sip before realizing it was completely empty. Instead of admitting this though, the man just continued to sit there and daintily sipped his air as though nothing unusual had happened. 

This is getting ridiculous, he sighed to himself as he contemplated turning around and jumping out of one of the two large windows directly behind them. They were only on the first floor after all, if he got a running start, he might be able to leverage the natural bounce of the couch cushions and catapult himself over the bushes which lined the front of Oliver's row house and onto the green grass of his tiny front garden. Avoiding a rather prickly landing and enabling him to just keep running to the opposite side of London where his own darkened flat sat waiting for him. 

Granted by the time he arrived at his own flat his sister and Harry would likely be waiting for him, and they wouldn't be angling for a friendly chat either. He was certain they would absolutely murder him for running out on Oliver like that.

He would be angry at himself as well, after all the progress he had finally started making to ruin everything with a single knee jerk reaction would not be the best course of action. What he needed was to just take a moment and think, formulate a plan.

Simple would be best, no need to overcomplicate an already complicated situation. 

What he really wanted was the opportunity to stare into Oliver's eyes and tell him every single thought and emotion flitting through his brain at this moment. That was impossible though. For one, while he could theoretically spend hours talking about his feelings for the man, when it came down to it, he often found it difficult to string together two words when Oliver was the topic of conversation. 

Ironic, considering he spent most of his free time thinking about and searching for just the right words. The years of reading books filled to the brim with a multitude of letters strung together in varying patterns which elicited an array of emotions from him fueled his love of languages, of thought. Sorting through them all to find the perfect ones for the occasion, allowing him to be good at his job. Eloquent, as some would come to call it. Swaying people over to his favor and on occasion the words he penned to paper had saved countless lives, yet when it came to Oliver there was no way the English language could ever truly encompass how he felt about the man.

No language in existence could ever accomplish that particular feat. 

There were no poetic musings regarding Oliver's brown eyes, bits of gold woven into the irises reflecting back to him the depths of the man's soul. A soul so kind and generous, so full of compassion for everyone he met and a willingness to freely forgive. He didn't understand how one person could be so good, so noble, so unbelievably perfect in every aspect it often seemed as if the man wasn't real. A figment of his imagination, like smoke against a night sky. 

Yet, Oliver was here. Sitting next to him in the still silence which surrounded them as he struggled to find the right words to describe how he was feeling in this very moment. To give life to this thing growing in his chest with each passing day, pushing out all rational thought and only leaving room in his heart, his brain, his soul for one thing- Oliver Wood. 

He wanted to be the quiet, fading light which lulled Oliver to sleep each night and the sunrise by which they woke at each other's sides the following morning. The warmth of a crackling fire enveloping him when he was having a rough day, his constant source of comfort and deep sense of peace. A voice of reason in the midst of chaos. The guiding light leading him home. 

He wanted to be his everything. 

But no words ever seemed to be enough. To complicate matters further, none of that was simple- and simple was what he needed in this moment. 

A hand suddenly appeared on his thigh, startling him out of his inner monologue on the best approach to convince Oliver that the two of them should be snogging each other's faces off at the present moment. He turned to face him with what he hoped was a charming smirk on his face, and expected to find Oliver smiling in return, instead he found a found a confused look which bordered on irritation. The now empty pot dangling from one finger, Oliver cleared his throat, shattering the awkward silence of the room with a cute little tilt of his head like he was asking a silent question.

Brilliant! More tea! He should have thought of that, so simple, so subtle. "Uh-erm- sure?-"

While he had initially been more than happy to accompany Oliver like an obedient puppy, he now wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself and thus chose to lean against the doorframe awkwardly as he watched Oliver go through the motions of preparing a fresh batch of tea.  

A quiet had once again descended upon them, no longer the permeating awkwardness like they felt in the living room. This silence was lighter, more in line with the comfortable familiarity of their previous interactions.

While he might be getting a bit ahead of himself, for just a moment he thought he could get quite used to the peaceful domestic scene in front of him. Oliver was wearing a pair of well-loved dark gray sweatpants with 'Puddlemere' printed down his left leg pairing with it a white shirt sporting three gold goalposts as he stood before the stove with a slight frown on his face while impatiently waiting for the kettle to boil.

It was all so normal, so different from what he was used to experiencing with a potential romantic partner. Where in the past such a simple act would have left him anxious and wondering when the person could leave so he could resume his normal routine. Now- well, now his normal routine included Oliver. Or, at least he wanted it to for as long as the other man was willing.

"Why don't you just use magic?" he pushed himself off the doorframe, at the sound of his socked feet shuffling against the hardwood flooring Oliver's fingers stilled for just a moment before resuming their tapping on the countertop. "Would be faster."

He came to a cautious stop just behind him, standing so close that if Oliver took one step back, he’d be flush against his chest.

"Has a better flavor when you do it the muggle way," Oliver turned to grin at him over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want to serve you subpar tea."

He tentatively placed his hand on the small of Oliver's back. When the man didn't pull away from the touch but rather seemed to melt into it, he wrapped an arm around Oliver's waist, allowing himself to get lost in the heavy tension that settled where his fingertips met the well-worn fabric of his sweatpants. Lightly tracing a hip bone and relishing at the way Oliver gave a small shiver. 

The inevitable pull between them; an unbearable force, nerve-wracking and comfortable at the same time. He didn't fight it, wrapping his other arm around Oliver's waist as well and curling himself around him. Burying his face in the crook of a broad shoulder with a sigh. "That would certainly be a tragedy."

"It would be," Oliver teased, just as the tea kettle finally made a high-pitched whistle. Snatching it from the burner and pouring the steaming water into two identical mugs, watching as the tea leaves and sprigs of lavender scattered along the bottom swirled about. "My Nanna would roll over in her grave if she knew I was serving a guest tea which was not made to her precise specifications. She was very particular, you know. When I went to stay with her and my Granda over the summers there would be tea brewing classes where I would have to stand with her at the stove and watch her every movement so I could recreate them exactly. Wasn't interested in preserving my feelings either. Many a cuppa were unceremoniously thrown down the drain and I was instructed to start over, correctly this time-"

While he usually used an infuser, he supposed this was how the Nanna in question steeped her tea. He wasn't going to argue with the method, especially after having gulped down so many cups of tea tonight without any verbal complaint. Watching as Oliver began the process of gathering up the other necessary ingredients to finish off their cups. 

A few dollops of honey went into his with just a splash of milk, exactly the way he preferred it. 

Oliver added milk to his cup as well, a slice of fresh lemon, and two sugar cubes. Dropping them into the amber liquid with a resounding plonk which splashed a bit of it over the side and onto the man's otherwise pristine countertops. 

Silently laughing as Oliver huffed out an annoyed puff of air from his nostrils before grabbing a nearby tea towel with a glare at the tiny droplets of liquid as though they had personally offended him. He reached out and grabbed the towel out of the man's hand, placing his lips just next to his ear. “Allow me,” he murmured as a whiff of sandalwood and something earthy teased his senses.

Oliver turned slowly on the spot until they were face to face, his expression caught somewhere in-between surprise and confusion. "Uh... watcha' doin'?"

"I don't really think- I need the tea- after all," he whispered breathlessly.

He noticed Oliver's throat bob, releasing a shaky exhale as his brown eyes zeroed in on the way his hand carefully set the towel down on the counter behind them. There was no distance between them now, he could tell in the way Oliver's breathing quickened that the proximity of their bodies was affecting him as well.  

Unlike any of the other times they kissed, there was no real limit on their time together. No club closing for the evening, no siblings or teammates to interrupt a rather heated snogging session, no cameras flashing, and no bags to pack. 

There was just the two of them and an entire evening which lay before them. Daunting- yet, exciting at the same time. 

"I-" before Oliver could say another word, he cupped his face and captured his lips in a fierce kiss. The insistent press of his lips caught the other man off guard, allowing him to succeed in circumnavigating his lightning-fast reflexes to push the small of his back against the edge of the marble countertop. 

After a startled, frozen moment Oliver returned the kiss with equal force and enthusiasm. Both his hands knotted in his collar, tugging him in to fill every ounce of empty space between them. Using the leverage of the countertop, Oliver pushed up against his tall frame, peppering kisses along his jaw, down his neck resulting in him emitting a series of gasps and moans which only served to spur the other man on in his endeavor. 

Oliver wrapped a leg around his thigh, in one swift movement he managed to turn the two of them so that his muscular chest was now pinning him against the kitchen cabinets. One of the pulls for the drawers was digging uncomfortably into his skin, unfortunately for his comfort he wasn't in any position to stop Oliver whose leg was still wrapped around him and hands roaming dangerously close to the top of the waistband of his sweatpants. "I need-" was all he managed to gasp out as Oliver nuzzled his face against his cheek before capturing his lips once again in a passionate kiss. 

In a slow, practiced motion Oliver gently grazed his teeth over his bottom lip as he lifted his lithe frame, so he was now sitting on top of the countertop. "Me too-" 

He didn't have the heart to let the man know that he had been referring to his need to get rid of the feeling that the metal drawer pull was burrowing into his body to take up permanent residence in his spine- besides, it wasn't like he didn't want that as well. 

An overwhelming want snuck up on him once again from the quiet depths of his soul, the tension surrounding them, swelling until there was really nothing left for him to do but wrap his legs around Oliver's waist and pull him closer so they were pressed so tightly together that he could feel a steady heartbeat against his chest.

Wordlessly, he took his thumb of the hand not gently cupping Oliver's neck and smoothed it over the man's cheek. He repeated this action a few more times before sweeping his thumb down the line of his jaw, ending at the base of his lips.

He pressed a kiss to the soft lips resting gently against his own. Then another. Then another. 

His breath caught in his chest; the words he now longed to say stuck in his throat. They could wait for just a bit longer- he just needed a bit more time.

All he could feel in this moment was the pulse of his blood, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Something inside of him broke the moment he felt Oliver's fingers trace the line of his jaw, like the wall of a dam, this time though instead of freezing or running away- turning his back on the one thing which he knew would bring the most happiness, he was going to stay. 

All he needed to do was look to Oliver and he would always be able to find his way back home. Somehow, after all of this time and despite his past mistakes he just might have finally found a way to come back home. All he needed to do was stay.