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tourdefierce Oliver was singing a song he didn't know, with people whose names he couldn't remember, but he was sure the bloke on his left was called Tom. Tom, who liked a football team, which had something to do with feet and an oddly checked ball in some sort of stadium. Oliver wasn't clear on the details, but Tom's team was called United, and it was a catchy tune because Oliver didn't even have to know the words for his mouth to follow. Tom was cute, and they were chanting some song that Tom seemed to really like, and Oliver just focused on Tom's lips because they were pretty and wet and, wait— where was he?
Oliver looked up at the ceiling.
He was not in a pub. With a second glance around, he noticed that the walls were a shade of grey stone and the hangings on the wall looked very familiar.
Tom.
Pesky memories. Tom was the Head Boy and he was a Hufflepuff and he liked… some Muggle sport or another and they were singing a song. Right.
"I'm forever blowin' bubbles! Pretty bubbles in the air— They fly so high—"
Why was he here again? Singing a song about bubbles? Fuck. The last lager had really got to him... Oh yes, some bloke's home brew he brought with him on the train. Yes. It all seemed to be coming back to him, well not all of it, but the important parts. Like Tom, who smelt good and had pretty lips. And who was rubbing circles on his waist. Oh. Oh.
"Pretty bubbles in the air! UNITED! UNITED!"
Oliver laughed against Tom's neck, scraping his teeth against the soft flesh there. Tom tasted like sweat and, oddly, walnuts. Oliver had a strange urge for Tom, pretty singing Tom, to taste like peaches, but he didn't, so Oliver laughed again and tried to take in the room around him. There were people scattered everywhere. Some of them didn't look like they were Hogwarts students, but that seemed impossible, so they were probably just people Oliver didn't know. Because Tom, Tom was a Hufflepuff and Tom, Tom was Hhheeeaddd Bbboyyyy.
Oliver giggled. He'd just said 'head' in his head and then wondered if Tom, Tom the Head Boy, gave head. Head. With the Head Boy. Oliver giggled again.
"Oi!"
Oliver swivelled his head away from Tom's neck, who seemed to be singing again, to stare at the three Katies... When had she grown so many heads?
"I didn't grow heads, Oliver Wood, you're just tossed out of your mind."
"Seems so. How'd that happen?"
Katie laughed and leaned against him. Oliver tried to take most of her weight but imagined that Tom, singing Tom, was taking most of both him and Katie's weight together.
"It happened when we did shots of Firewhisky to get your mind off—" Katie paused and dropped her voice to a whisper. "To get your mind off the infidel named Percy."
"INFIDEL!"
Katie giggled and Oliver leaned back against Tom, who was still singing, but also stroking Oliver's thigh. The sensation buzzed warm against his trousers, and he rocked into each stroke.
"And then we had that bloke's lager."
"Good lager."
"Oliver, it tasted like piss. But I'm pretty sure I'm drunk."
Oliver giggled.
"I imagine that I'm drunk too."
Katie sighed, and Oliver tried to pay attention to the top of her head and not the hand roaming around his trousers, or the length of Tom's cock pressing into his arse. Tom gave a jovial shout and placed a sloppy kiss on the back of Oliver's neck. Oliver tried not to moan, but he was pretty sure he made some sort of strangled noise.
"Oliver, mm'tired."
Pretty singing Tom's hand was on his crotch, rubbing his erection.
"Let's go back."
Oliver couldn't think. Something about Katie was trying to process through his mind, but all he could think was Tom and fuck and harder. Tom's trousers felt warm against the palm of Oliver's tingling hand.
"Hey, we'll walk you back to the tower, Katie."
Oliver blinked his eyes open. Katie was looking at him with a sleepy grin. Oliver blushed and adjusted his trousers, idly wondering why Tom had removed his hand.
"Thanks, Tom!"
"Not really a problem. Wouldn't want you gettin' caught by a Prefect. This way, I'll be your excuse."
Oliver felt himself nodding. Tom's hand had somehow found its way up the back of his shirt and was tracing really fabulous patterns. Tom moved forward, and Oliver followed Tom's soft hand and Katie's bouncing ponytail.
If it wasn't for the group effort, Oliver was quite certain that they would have never made it back to the tower. There was much more groping than there was walking, and Katie finally got fed up with it and walked to the tower without their help. Oliver couldn't really remember how they got there, but it wasn't long before pretty singing Tom had Oliver pressed up against a stone wall with his trousers around his ankles.
It seemed that the Head Boy did, in fact, give head.
Oliver threaded his hands through Tom's blond hair as he sucked and bobbed. It was a glorious feeling, the wet heat of Tom's mouth and the stone of the wall behind him. He moaned and pressed his cock farther past Tom's pretty lips. Oliver gripped Tom's head and tried to remember that they were in public, but the thought just wouldn't resonate. All he could think was that Tom was really very good at this, and oh fucking Merlin—
Oliver's eyes flew open to meet Tom's deep blue eyes. Tom hallowed his cheeks and Oliver felt his cock hit the back of Tom's throat.
"Fuckin' hell—"
Tom seemed to grin around Oliver's cock — which Oliver thought to be very impressive considering the circumstances — and then Tom's pretty hands left the base of Oliver's cock and palmed his balls, making Oliver arch and fuck Tom's face a bit faster. He seemed to take it gracefully, even encouraging it, and Oliver just stopped thinking after Tom's pretty finger found Oliver's needy hole. It wasn't long before Tom was swallowing around Oliver's cock with two fingers up his arse, and Oliver was practically screaming.
Oliver calculated about three seconds to his orgasm as Tom's cheeks hallowed again, and his fingers found his prostate…just as Percy came around the corner and yelped his surprise. Oliver opened his eyes, and he came hard, his back arching off the cold stone of the wall, Tom milking his prostate and swallowing everything down his throat as Oliver locked eyes with Percy.
"Fuck! Perrrcceeeee."
Oliver slouched against the wall and suddenly felt very drunk.
Head Boy Tom, on the other hand, grinned naughtily, wiped his mouth and walked over to talk to Percy. Oliver could barely hear their raised voices. His legs felt heavy, and all he could remember was the feeling of absolute bliss and the way Percy's eyes had looked, staring at him when he came. For some reason, Oliver was having a hard time remembering Tom at all, only the flush on Percy's cheeks and, wait—
"Oliver?"
He opened his eyes to see Tom grinning. Oliver tucked his cock back inside his trousers.
"Looks like Weasley is going to let us off the hook."
Oliver could only nod.
"I promised to put in a good word for him when nominations for next year's Head Boy came round."
Oliver nodded again, not really hearing him. He had just been sucked off by the Head Boy. Head from the Head Boy. Head. Oliver actually giggled aloud.
"Well, I'll see you around, Oliver."
Oliver nodded again, which seemed the only movement he was capable of making. Tom grinned and kissed him sloppily. Oliver sighed into the kiss, tasting himself on Tom's sweeping tongue before it was gone, and Oliver was left boneless, spent, very drunk, and alone in the corridor with Percy.
For some reason, Oliver thought he should be worried, but then Percy was there and all Oliver could think about was how lovely Percy looked as he carried Oliver down the hall to the tower.
"Perce, always so pretty."
Oliver tried to stare down his nose at his own mouth. It seemed to be speaking without his permission. That was okay though, because Percy really was always pretty. Oliver raised his eyes and watched more of Percy's freckles bloom.
"Dammit, Oliver."
Percy was mad. Oh no.
"Don' be maaaaaad, Perce. Please— don' be mad." Oliver tightened his grip on Percy and buried his nose into Percy's neck. Oliver whimpered when he smelled sweet peaches, and only restrained himself from tasting because Percy was talking and Oliver wasn't sure he could taste and listen at the same time. And Oliver always listened to Percy.
"Oliver, I am not having any sort of conversation with you about your absurd behaviour because I'm certain that you will not remember it in the morning."
Oliver took a deep breath of Percy's neck before he withdrew. They had made it into the tower and were walking up the stairs. Percy was such a quick boy— no, man. Percy was a man.
"Yes, Oliver. I am aware of my gender. Now, can we please just go to bed?"
Did he say that aloud?
Oliver felt himself being dropped onto his bed. He tried to get back up, but his legs had suddenly turned to pudding.
"Perce," Oliver said as he reached out and blindly fumbled for any piece of Percy left. His eyes felt too heavy to open, but his mouth wasn't done disobeying him yet. He clutched at the piece of cloth in his hand.
"Don't go, Perce. M'sorry. Just missed you…missed you..."
Oliver felt a blanket on his skin as sleep finally captured him, and he drifted into unconsciousness with the smell of peaches in his nose and the nagging feeling that the morning would not bring good tidings.
Oliver understood two things when he blinked into consciousness. One; that something had gone and died inside his mouth, and two; the sun was literally accosting him, which was not in any shape or form, calming the angry herd of hippogriffs that had taken residence in his head. He was vaguely concerned that he'd been letting the things take control of his body whilst he was asleep, but the only panic he could muster was in the form of a moan as he rolled over.
Why, in Merlin's name, did his body feel like he had been run over the by the Knight Bus? Twice?
"For a while, I couldn't decide if I was going to help you, even with Katie's pleading to take pity on your possibly senseless soul. But seeing you now is just too pathetic."
Oliver tried to look up, but for some reason his eyes had started searing with the sun, and his stomach was threatening to upturn. He just moaned. His only fleeting thought was that Percy's voice was soft, certainly not helping his head, but not hindering it and that, of course, his aversion to light was a sign of vampirism.
"You are not a vampire. Although your friend Tom might be, from what I could see of his abilities—"
Oliver tried to focus on Percy's words, but he felt the bed dip and suddenly there was a warm body pressed up against his back. He wanted desperately to turn around and bury himself in the warmth and safety that was Percy, but he thought moving would upset his stomach and then there would be sick up on Percy, and Oliver was pretty sure throwing up on someone was not a sign of affection. So instead, he pushed his head back slowly until he found Percy's hand and then waited.
It had been so long since Percy had been in Oliver's bed. When they were in their younger years at Hogwarts, Oliver would always find a way to get Percy to study or nap in his bed. Some days, it had felt like Oliver had to drag Percy there, but Percy would always run his hands through Oliver's hair until he fell asleep, listening to Percy talk about everything from his family to his preference of quills. And it had been nice. It had been innocent and nice and fabulous. Naturally, Oliver had ruined it when he realized he fancied boys and that maybe Percy didn't fancy boys, and then, of course, freaked out when he realized he fancied Percy. Then the cuddling, which frankly was exactly what it was, was off-limits because cuddling and freaking out about sexual identity did not go well together.
Oliver had no idea who Tom was, but Percy's hand carding through his hair felt like it was calming the angry hippogriffs.
"Here, drink this."
Oliver recoiled further up against Percy's thigh. Whatever Percy was offering possibly smelled worse than Oliver's breath, and he didn't think that was possible.
"Ollie, just drink the hangover potion."
And then suddenly there was potion in his mouth, and Oliver was swallowing because that was just the polite thing to do, even though he felt like the liquid was eviscerating his soul. Merlin, it was foul and it was rolling around in his stomach even more violently. Oliver was pretty sure he was going to vomit everywhere.
"Drink this."
Then there was cool and refreshing iced tea chasing away the awful potion and calming the sea of his stomach. Oliver couldn't have been more grateful. He gulped down the tea until there was only droplets left, ignoring Percy's soft laughter. Oliver felt insanely better as he relaxed against the pillows and Percy's hand.
"Katie did say you were a child when it came to hangovers and it really shouldn't surprise—"
Wait just one damn minute.
And then it was all coming back at a mind blowing pace, and oh fucking hell! Oliver shot up so fast the room was spinning dangerously, and his limbs were moving quite uncontrollably.
"I got head from the Head Boy."
Percy's jaw dropped.
"Oh fuck, and you were there!"
Percy blushed.
"You fucking know I'm a poofter."
Percy, jaw still dropped, nodded.
"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. I've ruined my life. This wasn't in the plan. This wasn't anywhere near the fucking plan."
Oliver dropped his head in his hands because suddenly, everything about anything was just a little bit too fucking much.
Beside him, Percy coughed uncomfortably and said, "And here I thought we weren't going to talk about it."
Oliver huffed and lifted his hands, gesturing almost frantically. "How can we not fucking talk about it! I've been courting you for fucking months and I go and get blown by the Head Boy in a CORRIDOR. Not to mention the fact that I was coming down…" Oliver paused, trying to remember the Head Boy's name. Pretty lips didn't seem appropriate for his freak out. Footie...United...Blondie...Tom! "…down Tom's throat from the sight of you, and now you're probably freaked out and you're still helping me and my list-making was all for nothing!"
It was word vomit. There was no other way to describe how the words just flowed out of his mouth without any respect for his dignity. It was awful. And all Oliver could do was be still, and hope that Percy would get the hint and just go away for a while so they could not talk about this moment ever again, and live the rest of their Hogwarts careers in complete, awkward silences. Oliver had never been in a bigger disaster in his life, except for maybe the first day of Keeper try-outs his first year, which still held that title. But at least Katie wasn't around to witness the Great Percy Debacle, which is what he planned to call this in his head for the next fifty years as he mourned the loss of his first love, and probably lived the rest of his life with Katie and her breeder family, hiding in their basement. Oh for fuck's sake, he was doomed.
"You made a list?"
Oliver looked up from where he was trying to smother himself with his hands. Percy was still blushing, very prettily if Oliver's cock had anything to say about it, and it was saying something, which was terribly inconvenient since Oliver was trying to FOCUS, and this was certainly a CRISIS, and he shouldn't be HARD for fuck's sake.
Oliver shook his head, focusing on Percy's face and not on his freckles and fantastically pink skin. He looked confused but not horrified, which seemed like a good thing…or at least, not a bad thing.
"Yes, a list."
"What kind of list?"
It was Oliver's turn to blush because saying it out loud to someone other than Katie made him feel like a huge nancy. Not that he wasn't a huge nancy, but suddenly saying, "A list about all the things that you loved, so I could worm my way into your life because I hopelessly and desperately fancy you, so much so that even now, while I'm having the biggest queen-out in the history of queer-kind, I am still hard at the sight of you and want nothing more than to hold your hand" didn't seem like the best option. So obviously, he said it aloud anyway.
Oliver felt his jaw drop as his voice trailed off. It was like he had lost complete control of his mouth, like his heart had just hijacked his body. It was disturbing and oddly liberating.
Oliver stared at Percy. Percy, who, bless his heart, looked to be taking in each of Oliver's outbursts sentence by sentence. Oliver felt like fleeing, which considering the turn of the conversation, he was quite proud that he was only now considering just running and never looking back. It wasn't as if he couldn't be a professional Quidditch player without N.E.W.T.s, and although it would be pretty hard to avoid every single Weasley in the entire world — that family alone could populate a small country — Oliver was pretty sure there was some sort of spell out there that could help him avoid all redheaded men for the rest of his natural born life.
"So," Percy said, tilting his head and looking as if Oliver was a very complicated Arithmancy problem. "You're gay?"
Leave it to Percy to boil it down to the essential facts.
"Yes," Oliver whispered. It was strange hearing it said out loud. Not that Katie wasn't fucking loud, but she didn't count because she thought everybody was secretly gay.
"And you fancy me?"
"Yes."
"So you made a list?"
"Yes."
"And the getting drunk and erm, sexual favours from Tom was just an accident?"
"Emotional disruption due to alcohol and patheticness."
"Ah."
Oliver stared at Percy. What the hell was he thinking? Why wasn't Percy running for the hills? Why was he still just sitting on the bed as if they weren't discussing Oliver's entire life?
"All right. I'll think about it then."
And then Percy squeezed his hand. Oliver felt like his life was full of dramatic moments and very anticlimactic climaxes, and wondered if he should be worried about what that said about the rest of his life, his sexual life in particular.
"What?"
Percy shifted back against the headboard until his long limbs were stretched out and his back was cradled by Oliver's pillow. He looked comfortable. Oliver felt confused and he expressed this.
"What?"
"I said I'll think about it."
"Think about what?"
"About you," Percy said, and Oliver swore there was a hint of a smile on his face.
"About me?"
"Yeah, about you making lists."
Oliver nodded. Percy patted his leg, and Oliver decided that he was done thinking for the time being. He didn't fucking care what Katie would say later after he regurgitated this whole story to her, because he was certainly still confused and was going to need a great deal of counselling on this whole thinking business of Percy's. But for the time being, he was just going to sleep off his hangover with his head in Percy's lap, Percy's hand in his hair, and Percy's voice talking about school and rules and tea.
"So, just so we're on the same really gay — and when I say gay I mean flaming queen — page. You professed your undying love for Percy Weasley. He said he would think about it. And then you two just cuddled and fell asleep."
Oliver looked at Katie and felt the need to just tackle her and beat the living daylights out of her because she was the most annoying best friend in the entire world. And she was right. He was really gay.
"Yes, you little shit."
"Huh."
"Yeah."
"Have you talked about it since?"
"It's been a day, Katie. Percy isn't like you. He doesn't need to insert himself into every situation the exact moment it happens."
"How am I not supposed to make an arse joke when you say things like insert?"
"Please refrain and focus on what the hell I'm supposed to do about this."
"Maybe you should read up."
"Read up on what?"
"Gay lifestyle and such."
"Lifestyle?"
"Sex, mostly in public, from what I gather from the back covers of all those trashy homoerotic novels Angelina swears she doesn't read. I think I read one with a stalker," she said contemplatively. "I think they lived happily ever after in Blow Job Land eventually. Maybe it'll work for you, too."
"I'm not a stalker and I'm pretty sure I've had enough of the public sex."
Oliver wished he had better control of his mouth. Katie looked like the cat that had demolished the canary with alarming speed.
"I've been meaning to speak with you about the head by the Head Boy thing."
"Katie," Oliver said. "I can make the head and the Head Boy joke all by myself."
"Isn't that a pity? He really is a babe. Did you see that blond hair? Hot damn."
"I'm leaving now."
"Do you think Tom and Percy would do a threesome with you? And could I watch?"
Oliver choked on his tongue.
"You know how much I've always wanted to shag a Weasley!"
"Not this one!"
"I'm joking, Oliver."
"Christ."
Percy's mouth was tentative but desperate against his, lips pressing firmly with small licks that had Oliver gasping and clutching at Percy's thin shoulders. And then Percy's tongue was pressed up against his, and Oliver was moaning because this was exactly what he had been imagining since he'd figured out he liked cock.
Percy pressed against him until Oliver could feel his whole body against the wall of the cupboard. His practice uniform was itchy in the cloth areas, but the leather felt like a second skin as Oliver writhed against Percy. He was so warm, and he smelled like the library and peaches. It was intoxicating, the way he smelled, his mouth open and demanding against Oliver's. Making out with Percy was so much better than getting blown by Tom. It was hard to explain, but when Oliver felt Percy's cock pressing through his trousers and against his own aching cock, Oliver felt like a thousand blow jobs by Tom wouldn't hold a candle to just kissing Percy. So much so, that Oliver actually felt like he was on the edge of coming the moment their hips connected, and he moaned into Percy's mouth, clutching at Percy's back until Percy gasped and broke their kiss.
They didn't move apart, but Oliver didn't move in for a second kiss. He felt like he was ultra sensitive at every point where his body was connected to Percy, as if his entire body had been waiting to be touched by Percy. Percy was panting against his cheek, and Oliver could barely make out the rim of his glasses down around his nose. Oliver pushed them back into place and Percy sighed.
"Gods, Perce," Oliver whispered as his hips seemed to move in tiny circles without his consent, but it felt so bloody fantastic. And Percy was panting. Panting!
Percy leaned forward, pushing their cocks together and causing Oliver to make a dramatic little whimpering noise.
"Have a good practice, Ollie."
And then he was gone, and Oliver was coming in his pants.
After pulling himself together and cleaning the inside of his underwear and practice uniform, Oliver walked to the pitch with a spring in his step, filing away three things to tell Katie later.
One, that Percy was a fantastic kisser. Second, he was not as stuffy as she always accused him of being because he had pulled Oliver into the linen cupboard, not the other way around.
And third, that Percy's cock was huge if the bulge in his trousers was anything to go on.
Oliver didn't see Percy in the day after the impromptu snogging. It wasn't that Percy was avoiding him. At least Oliver didn't think that was what was going on, because Percy had smiled at him and blushed in the morning when Oliver had woken up to an almost-dressed Percy writing him a note. Oliver hadn't been very coherent, but Percy had bid him a good practice and said that he wouldn't be back to the dorms because he had a meeting with the Prefects and a tutoring group afterwards, and he was supposed to meet with McGonagall, too. Oliver had nodded, and drifted back to sleep before Percy had even left his bedside.
Despite the fact that the note only said, Ollie, it was still in Percy's handwriting, and so Oliver kept it. If that made Katie call him a sentimental queen, then so be it.
Unfortunately, after such a promising morning, his day slowly turned to shit. He didn't have any classes with Percy that day, and when he did see him, it was from a distance and it was only the top of his head as he moved through the crowded halls. Oliver had Divination first, which always gave him a headache from the smell, and he was tired of the prediction that he was going to fall tragically from his broom in mid-air and splatter all across the ground in a gruesome death. As entertaining as it had been the first thirty times Trelawny foretold it, the fortune had become tiresome and only made him irritated today. Katie called him bitchy. It did not improve his mood.
Care of Magical Creatures was usually one of Oliver's favourite classes because it was out of doors. Unfortunately, today was not his day. Twenty minutes into class, he was attacked by some hybrid animal that Kettleburn had been showing them in an example of the dangerous temptations of meddling with the cross-breeding of species. Katie had laughed hysterically while Oliver beat the thing off as it squawked and flailed, and dug its talons and fangs into Oliver's ribs. Kettleburn had been lamenting about the damage Oliver had done to the thing as Katie had helped him to the infirmary. She had stopped laughing so hard when she realized he was bleeding so much, but she still grinned when Madam Pomfrey had tutted over him and asked him if it was a hate crime.
Seriously? Oliver had wanted to laugh, but Katie had been so hysterical about the whole event that he just stuck with sulking, and told Madam Pomfrey that the only hate involved was his own for magical creatures. She looked on disbelievingly and wrote him a note for the rest of the day off due to 'emotional distress'. She had no idea.
He had wanted to spend the rest of the day sleeping, but he had completely forgotten to write the rest of his History of Magic essay, and he still had practice that evening. By the time he was dashing off to practice, ink still covering his hands from where the ink well had dumped over everything, Oliver was in a wretched mood. He was bitchy, and there was a good chance that practice wasn't going to go well with his sore ribs and bad attitude.
It was worse than he could have imagined.
The weather had turned even more wretched than his mood — a near-on hurricane — which normally wouldn't have been too bad, because they had played in hurricane weather before and a little practice in it wouldn't hurt. Only the twins had picked that practice to show up high, which also wouldn't have been much of a problem because honestly, they flew better when high. But the weather made it so that they needed to have their wits about them. After the fifth bludger took out a player, Oliver wasn't happy. When the eighth bludger hit his sore ribs, causing them to bleed again, Oliver was livid and in considerable pain. Katie tried to help but it was no use, and after two hours of rogue bludgers, awful weather, and a lot of yelling on his part, Oliver packed it in and went to go drown himself in the showers. He was cold and upset, and needed some time to just be unreasonable.
The team left the locker room without even a backward glance. Oliver felt there was some decency in the world when the twins looked slightly guilty, but it wasn't enough to cheer him up. Plus, the shower drowning would have been better executed if the water hadn't burned like a mother fucker, and he hadn't slipped on the soap and fallen on his arse.
It just wasn't his day.
Oliver practically crawled to the dorm. His side was aching and he was pretty sure there was still some soap in his arse to top it all off. Again, not his day. But the dorm room was exceptionally warm, and there were a few candles still lit, which meant that Percy was likely still up. Oliver idly wondered what time it was, but he was so exhausted he barely had the energy to get his kit off before he extinguished the light beside his bed and collapsed.
On top of someone.
Naturally, Oliver panicked a bit because he was still afraid Davies was going to come out of nowhere, and this was the sort of creeper thing that Davies would do, but when the body that Oliver had landed on squeaked instead of grunted, Oliver was surprised and pleased. He rolled off of the lump that was presumably Percy, and the covers lifted up.
"'lo."
"Hi."
Oliver was grinning so wide that he was afraid he was going to break something, but there wasn't a better ending to a completely shit day than Percy in his bed. Fuck, just the smell of Percy in his bed, clean and parchment and peaches, was enough to make the tragedy of the day melt away. The thought, probably actually made him grow a twat, but Oliver was too far gone to care. He just kept grinning.
"I've had a complete shit day."
His voice felt too loud in the dorm, but he could see Percy smiling in the sliver of moonlight, his glasses gone from his face. And then his hand was around Percy's wrist, and Percy was pulling him closer. Percy shifted, and Oliver slid up into a spot against Percy's neck that Oliver had only daydreamed about, his nose pressed against the soft skin of Percy's throat. The rest of their limbs just seem to tangle together, and Oliver didn't even think about how fucking perfect it all was. He did notice the warmth of Percy's chest, and the way Percy's legs were much longer than his own. Percy's hands roamed around until he found the bandage across Oliver's ribs and stopped. Oliver mewed at the lack of caress against his skin.
"What happened?" Percy asked in a sleepy voice that would have turned Oliver on if he wasn't so tired. Instead, it felt comfortable and gave him a feeling like pixies were in his stomach.
"'S nothin'."
Percy doesn't argue, and Oliver is grateful for the silence. It wasn't long before Oliver could actually feel Percy's breaths deepen and even out. Percy's hands had ended up in very Percy places; his right was tangled in Oliver's hair, and his left was tucked into the back of Oliver's pants in such a way that had Oliver more on top of him than next to him. It was bloody fantastic.
Oliver just hung on for dear life and prayed that morning would never come, which was a distinctly different opinion of the day than he'd had before.
Oliver woke up with his head pressed into his pillow and Percy's erection pressed against his arse.
He wasn't sure if there had ever been a better morning in the history of boarding school gays.
His own morning wood was present but that wasn’t not much of a surprise. The clock on the wall read just half six, which was entirely too early for anything but sleep in Oliver's opinion, but just then there were lips against the back of his neck and Oliver moaned. He felt Percy chuckling before he heard it, and it made him arch his back, pushing his arse against Percy's erection and his neck against Percy's open mouthed kisses. There was a quiet confidence about Percy that Oliver had always admired, and it certainly seemed to shine through when it came to Oliver and sex. Between the linen cupboard and finding Percy in his bed when he got back the night before, it seemed Percy was done thinking. Oliver thought thinking was over-rated anyway. He thought Katie might agree.
And then, all thoughts of Katie were gone because Percy's fingers had slipped beneath the waist of Oliver's pants, and holy god. The same hand that held quills and flourished wands with confidence was wrapped around his prick, and Oliver was pretty sure he was never going to be able to look at Percy without coming in his pants for the rest of his life.
"Fuck, Percy."
He didn't comment, just moved his hand tightly up and down Oliver's cock, and Oliver's mind felt like it would explode. Percy was rocking with each tug on Oliver's cock, pressing his own against Oliver's arse. Oliver ground back as Percy's other hand wandered to Oliver's nipples, and Oliver's own hands alternated from tugging on Percy's hair to pulling at Percy's pants. Percy pinched a nipple, and Oliver whimpered, and suddenly the pants just had to go.
"Perce, pants—" Oliver didn't have the mind to finish his sentence before he was twisting around to kiss Percy while he simultaneously tried to rid Percy of his pants. The idea was there, but the execution needed a little work, which sounded strangely like his practice schedule. But Percy, ever prepared Percy, was there to help him yank down Percy's and then his own without breaking their sloppy kiss. Oliver wanted to care about Percy's morning breath and the fact that Percy's toenail was digging into his calf, but he just couldn't. They were naked and touching. Oliver was happy to have any mental function at all.
Their cocks were rubbing against each other and the friction was maddening, but not enough, and Oliver wanted, needed more. The position on their sides was awkward, but Oliver was beyond caring as he wrapped his hand around both of their cocks as they thrust together, pre-come bubbling up from both of theirs slits as Oliver stroked them in time to the rocking of their hips. How many times had Oliver imagined them here? God, but reality was so much better. For one, Percy's cock was so much bigger and more freckled, and all Oliver could think about was next time. Next time, he'd get to suck Percy's orgasm out of him, or the next time, when he'd let Percy stretch him out with ink-stained fingers and his tongue until Percy could fit his cock up there, and then—
Oliver moaned and tightened his grip on their cocks, faster, harder, more.
"God, Ollie," Percy said in a breathy tone that had Oliver moaning and pressing his face against Percy's neck and sucking. Percy's hand joined Oliver's around their cocks, his long fingers pulling and tugging with the snap of their hips. Oliver's leg had managed to crawl up to curl around Percy's lower back, and they seemed maddeningly close. Oliver had to kiss him. It was sloppy and desperate, and Oliver could practically taste tea and sleep on Percy's tongue. Percy pulled away, and Oliver opened his eyes to find Percy looking, blue eyes wide with lust, from where they were stroking together into Oliver's face. He leaned his forehead against Percy's and watched the way they thrust against each other, cocks red and swollen.
"Perce, I'm so close."
Percy sped up their hands, and Oliver hadn't even noticed that Percy's other hand had left the nape of his neck until he felt a finger pressing into his entrance. The small tingle of his orgasm that had started in his spine just seemed to erupt out of him in a moan as he buried his face in Percy's neck and bit down. God, he was coming so hard he was shaking. He felt Percy continue stroking him through his orgasm, and then Percy was coming too, his head thrown back and his come splashing against Oliver's stomach.
"Fuck."
Oliver laughed. It was one of the only times he had ever heard Percy curse and it was fantastic. Oliver looked up, caressing the angry mark he had made on Percy's shoulder when he had come. Oliver smiled, and he saw Percy blush.
"You're blushing now?"
"You bit me!"
"You cursed! And you jumped into my bed last night and took advantage of my fragile state!"
"I did not jump or take advantage," Percy said with his cheeks flushed. Oliver grinned and pulled Percy close until their foreheads were touching once more. He felt high, like when they won the House Cup, or when Charlie had handed him the Quidditch Cup and the Captaincy. It was like that, except better. A million times better.
"So, I guess this means you're done thinking."
"It certainly does."
This time, Oliver kissed Percy, and it was soft and a little bit sexy and all sorts of right. He thought, maybe he wasn't as bad at seducing as he'd thought, and that maybe love and Quidditch had just as much in common as sex and Quidditch.
Years later, Oliver would realize that he hadn't been in love with Percy at Hogwarts. He'd been falling, surely, but after spending the rest of this life getting to know the anal retentive bastard, Oliver realized there was much more to love, and that Oliver had barely unwrapped the mystery that was Percy Weasley until after three break-ups, two Lubrication Spell accidents, one war and several drunken nights later.
But, he was certainly glad that he had made a list, ignored most of what Katie had ever said, and taken to Percy like he'd taken to a broom.
In the end, they all got what they wanted, Oliver supposed. Oliver got Percy. Percy got Oliver.
And Katie finally got to shag a Weasley. Which one? Well, that's another story.
Oliver looked up at the ceiling.
He was not in a pub. With a second glance around, he noticed that the walls were a shade of grey stone and the hangings on the wall looked very familiar.
Tom.
Pesky memories. Tom was the Head Boy and he was a Hufflepuff and he liked… some Muggle sport or another and they were singing a song. Right.
"I'm forever blowin' bubbles! Pretty bubbles in the air— They fly so high—"
Why was he here again? Singing a song about bubbles? Fuck. The last lager had really got to him... Oh yes, some bloke's home brew he brought with him on the train. Yes. It all seemed to be coming back to him, well not all of it, but the important parts. Like Tom, who smelt good and had pretty lips. And who was rubbing circles on his waist. Oh. Oh.
"Pretty bubbles in the air! UNITED! UNITED!"
Oliver laughed against Tom's neck, scraping his teeth against the soft flesh there. Tom tasted like sweat and, oddly, walnuts. Oliver had a strange urge for Tom, pretty singing Tom, to taste like peaches, but he didn't, so Oliver laughed again and tried to take in the room around him. There were people scattered everywhere. Some of them didn't look like they were Hogwarts students, but that seemed impossible, so they were probably just people Oliver didn't know. Because Tom, Tom was a Hufflepuff and Tom, Tom was Hhheeeaddd Bbboyyyy.
Oliver giggled. He'd just said 'head' in his head and then wondered if Tom, Tom the Head Boy, gave head. Head. With the Head Boy. Oliver giggled again.
"Oi!"
Oliver swivelled his head away from Tom's neck, who seemed to be singing again, to stare at the three Katies... When had she grown so many heads?
"I didn't grow heads, Oliver Wood, you're just tossed out of your mind."
"Seems so. How'd that happen?"
Katie laughed and leaned against him. Oliver tried to take most of her weight but imagined that Tom, singing Tom, was taking most of both him and Katie's weight together.
"It happened when we did shots of Firewhisky to get your mind off—" Katie paused and dropped her voice to a whisper. "To get your mind off the infidel named Percy."
"INFIDEL!"
Katie giggled and Oliver leaned back against Tom, who was still singing, but also stroking Oliver's thigh. The sensation buzzed warm against his trousers, and he rocked into each stroke.
"And then we had that bloke's lager."
"Good lager."
"Oliver, it tasted like piss. But I'm pretty sure I'm drunk."
Oliver giggled.
"I imagine that I'm drunk too."
Katie sighed, and Oliver tried to pay attention to the top of her head and not the hand roaming around his trousers, or the length of Tom's cock pressing into his arse. Tom gave a jovial shout and placed a sloppy kiss on the back of Oliver's neck. Oliver tried not to moan, but he was pretty sure he made some sort of strangled noise.
"Oliver, mm'tired."
Pretty singing Tom's hand was on his crotch, rubbing his erection.
"Let's go back."
Oliver couldn't think. Something about Katie was trying to process through his mind, but all he could think was Tom and fuck and harder. Tom's trousers felt warm against the palm of Oliver's tingling hand.
"Hey, we'll walk you back to the tower, Katie."
Oliver blinked his eyes open. Katie was looking at him with a sleepy grin. Oliver blushed and adjusted his trousers, idly wondering why Tom had removed his hand.
"Thanks, Tom!"
"Not really a problem. Wouldn't want you gettin' caught by a Prefect. This way, I'll be your excuse."
Oliver felt himself nodding. Tom's hand had somehow found its way up the back of his shirt and was tracing really fabulous patterns. Tom moved forward, and Oliver followed Tom's soft hand and Katie's bouncing ponytail.
If it wasn't for the group effort, Oliver was quite certain that they would have never made it back to the tower. There was much more groping than there was walking, and Katie finally got fed up with it and walked to the tower without their help. Oliver couldn't really remember how they got there, but it wasn't long before pretty singing Tom had Oliver pressed up against a stone wall with his trousers around his ankles.
It seemed that the Head Boy did, in fact, give head.
Oliver threaded his hands through Tom's blond hair as he sucked and bobbed. It was a glorious feeling, the wet heat of Tom's mouth and the stone of the wall behind him. He moaned and pressed his cock farther past Tom's pretty lips. Oliver gripped Tom's head and tried to remember that they were in public, but the thought just wouldn't resonate. All he could think was that Tom was really very good at this, and oh fucking Merlin—
Oliver's eyes flew open to meet Tom's deep blue eyes. Tom hallowed his cheeks and Oliver felt his cock hit the back of Tom's throat.
"Fuckin' hell—"
Tom seemed to grin around Oliver's cock — which Oliver thought to be very impressive considering the circumstances — and then Tom's pretty hands left the base of Oliver's cock and palmed his balls, making Oliver arch and fuck Tom's face a bit faster. He seemed to take it gracefully, even encouraging it, and Oliver just stopped thinking after Tom's pretty finger found Oliver's needy hole. It wasn't long before Tom was swallowing around Oliver's cock with two fingers up his arse, and Oliver was practically screaming.
Oliver calculated about three seconds to his orgasm as Tom's cheeks hallowed again, and his fingers found his prostate…just as Percy came around the corner and yelped his surprise. Oliver opened his eyes, and he came hard, his back arching off the cold stone of the wall, Tom milking his prostate and swallowing everything down his throat as Oliver locked eyes with Percy.
"Fuck! Perrrcceeeee."
Oliver slouched against the wall and suddenly felt very drunk.
Head Boy Tom, on the other hand, grinned naughtily, wiped his mouth and walked over to talk to Percy. Oliver could barely hear their raised voices. His legs felt heavy, and all he could remember was the feeling of absolute bliss and the way Percy's eyes had looked, staring at him when he came. For some reason, Oliver was having a hard time remembering Tom at all, only the flush on Percy's cheeks and, wait—
"Oliver?"
He opened his eyes to see Tom grinning. Oliver tucked his cock back inside his trousers.
"Looks like Weasley is going to let us off the hook."
Oliver could only nod.
"I promised to put in a good word for him when nominations for next year's Head Boy came round."
Oliver nodded again, not really hearing him. He had just been sucked off by the Head Boy. Head from the Head Boy. Head. Oliver actually giggled aloud.
"Well, I'll see you around, Oliver."
Oliver nodded again, which seemed the only movement he was capable of making. Tom grinned and kissed him sloppily. Oliver sighed into the kiss, tasting himself on Tom's sweeping tongue before it was gone, and Oliver was left boneless, spent, very drunk, and alone in the corridor with Percy.
For some reason, Oliver thought he should be worried, but then Percy was there and all Oliver could think about was how lovely Percy looked as he carried Oliver down the hall to the tower.
"Perce, always so pretty."
Oliver tried to stare down his nose at his own mouth. It seemed to be speaking without his permission. That was okay though, because Percy really was always pretty. Oliver raised his eyes and watched more of Percy's freckles bloom.
"Dammit, Oliver."
Percy was mad. Oh no.
"Don' be maaaaaad, Perce. Please— don' be mad." Oliver tightened his grip on Percy and buried his nose into Percy's neck. Oliver whimpered when he smelled sweet peaches, and only restrained himself from tasting because Percy was talking and Oliver wasn't sure he could taste and listen at the same time. And Oliver always listened to Percy.
"Oliver, I am not having any sort of conversation with you about your absurd behaviour because I'm certain that you will not remember it in the morning."
Oliver took a deep breath of Percy's neck before he withdrew. They had made it into the tower and were walking up the stairs. Percy was such a quick boy— no, man. Percy was a man.
"Yes, Oliver. I am aware of my gender. Now, can we please just go to bed?"
Did he say that aloud?
Oliver felt himself being dropped onto his bed. He tried to get back up, but his legs had suddenly turned to pudding.
"Perce," Oliver said as he reached out and blindly fumbled for any piece of Percy left. His eyes felt too heavy to open, but his mouth wasn't done disobeying him yet. He clutched at the piece of cloth in his hand.
"Don't go, Perce. M'sorry. Just missed you…missed you..."
Oliver felt a blanket on his skin as sleep finally captured him, and he drifted into unconsciousness with the smell of peaches in his nose and the nagging feeling that the morning would not bring good tidings.
<3<3<3<3<3
Oliver understood two things when he blinked into consciousness. One; that something had gone and died inside his mouth, and two; the sun was literally accosting him, which was not in any shape or form, calming the angry herd of hippogriffs that had taken residence in his head. He was vaguely concerned that he'd been letting the things take control of his body whilst he was asleep, but the only panic he could muster was in the form of a moan as he rolled over.
Why, in Merlin's name, did his body feel like he had been run over the by the Knight Bus? Twice?
"For a while, I couldn't decide if I was going to help you, even with Katie's pleading to take pity on your possibly senseless soul. But seeing you now is just too pathetic."
Oliver tried to look up, but for some reason his eyes had started searing with the sun, and his stomach was threatening to upturn. He just moaned. His only fleeting thought was that Percy's voice was soft, certainly not helping his head, but not hindering it and that, of course, his aversion to light was a sign of vampirism.
"You are not a vampire. Although your friend Tom might be, from what I could see of his abilities—"
Oliver tried to focus on Percy's words, but he felt the bed dip and suddenly there was a warm body pressed up against his back. He wanted desperately to turn around and bury himself in the warmth and safety that was Percy, but he thought moving would upset his stomach and then there would be sick up on Percy, and Oliver was pretty sure throwing up on someone was not a sign of affection. So instead, he pushed his head back slowly until he found Percy's hand and then waited.
It had been so long since Percy had been in Oliver's bed. When they were in their younger years at Hogwarts, Oliver would always find a way to get Percy to study or nap in his bed. Some days, it had felt like Oliver had to drag Percy there, but Percy would always run his hands through Oliver's hair until he fell asleep, listening to Percy talk about everything from his family to his preference of quills. And it had been nice. It had been innocent and nice and fabulous. Naturally, Oliver had ruined it when he realized he fancied boys and that maybe Percy didn't fancy boys, and then, of course, freaked out when he realized he fancied Percy. Then the cuddling, which frankly was exactly what it was, was off-limits because cuddling and freaking out about sexual identity did not go well together.
Oliver had no idea who Tom was, but Percy's hand carding through his hair felt like it was calming the angry hippogriffs.
"Here, drink this."
Oliver recoiled further up against Percy's thigh. Whatever Percy was offering possibly smelled worse than Oliver's breath, and he didn't think that was possible.
"Ollie, just drink the hangover potion."
And then suddenly there was potion in his mouth, and Oliver was swallowing because that was just the polite thing to do, even though he felt like the liquid was eviscerating his soul. Merlin, it was foul and it was rolling around in his stomach even more violently. Oliver was pretty sure he was going to vomit everywhere.
"Drink this."
Then there was cool and refreshing iced tea chasing away the awful potion and calming the sea of his stomach. Oliver couldn't have been more grateful. He gulped down the tea until there was only droplets left, ignoring Percy's soft laughter. Oliver felt insanely better as he relaxed against the pillows and Percy's hand.
"Katie did say you were a child when it came to hangovers and it really shouldn't surprise—"
Wait just one damn minute.
And then it was all coming back at a mind blowing pace, and oh fucking hell! Oliver shot up so fast the room was spinning dangerously, and his limbs were moving quite uncontrollably.
"I got head from the Head Boy."
Percy's jaw dropped.
"Oh fuck, and you were there!"
Percy blushed.
"You fucking know I'm a poofter."
Percy, jaw still dropped, nodded.
"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. I've ruined my life. This wasn't in the plan. This wasn't anywhere near the fucking plan."
Oliver dropped his head in his hands because suddenly, everything about anything was just a little bit too fucking much.
Beside him, Percy coughed uncomfortably and said, "And here I thought we weren't going to talk about it."
Oliver huffed and lifted his hands, gesturing almost frantically. "How can we not fucking talk about it! I've been courting you for fucking months and I go and get blown by the Head Boy in a CORRIDOR. Not to mention the fact that I was coming down…" Oliver paused, trying to remember the Head Boy's name. Pretty lips didn't seem appropriate for his freak out. Footie...United...Blondie...Tom! "…down Tom's throat from the sight of you, and now you're probably freaked out and you're still helping me and my list-making was all for nothing!"
It was word vomit. There was no other way to describe how the words just flowed out of his mouth without any respect for his dignity. It was awful. And all Oliver could do was be still, and hope that Percy would get the hint and just go away for a while so they could not talk about this moment ever again, and live the rest of their Hogwarts careers in complete, awkward silences. Oliver had never been in a bigger disaster in his life, except for maybe the first day of Keeper try-outs his first year, which still held that title. But at least Katie wasn't around to witness the Great Percy Debacle, which is what he planned to call this in his head for the next fifty years as he mourned the loss of his first love, and probably lived the rest of his life with Katie and her breeder family, hiding in their basement. Oh for fuck's sake, he was doomed.
"You made a list?"
Oliver looked up from where he was trying to smother himself with his hands. Percy was still blushing, very prettily if Oliver's cock had anything to say about it, and it was saying something, which was terribly inconvenient since Oliver was trying to FOCUS, and this was certainly a CRISIS, and he shouldn't be HARD for fuck's sake.
Oliver shook his head, focusing on Percy's face and not on his freckles and fantastically pink skin. He looked confused but not horrified, which seemed like a good thing…or at least, not a bad thing.
"Yes, a list."
"What kind of list?"
It was Oliver's turn to blush because saying it out loud to someone other than Katie made him feel like a huge nancy. Not that he wasn't a huge nancy, but suddenly saying, "A list about all the things that you loved, so I could worm my way into your life because I hopelessly and desperately fancy you, so much so that even now, while I'm having the biggest queen-out in the history of queer-kind, I am still hard at the sight of you and want nothing more than to hold your hand" didn't seem like the best option. So obviously, he said it aloud anyway.
Oliver felt his jaw drop as his voice trailed off. It was like he had lost complete control of his mouth, like his heart had just hijacked his body. It was disturbing and oddly liberating.
Oliver stared at Percy. Percy, who, bless his heart, looked to be taking in each of Oliver's outbursts sentence by sentence. Oliver felt like fleeing, which considering the turn of the conversation, he was quite proud that he was only now considering just running and never looking back. It wasn't as if he couldn't be a professional Quidditch player without N.E.W.T.s, and although it would be pretty hard to avoid every single Weasley in the entire world — that family alone could populate a small country — Oliver was pretty sure there was some sort of spell out there that could help him avoid all redheaded men for the rest of his natural born life.
"So," Percy said, tilting his head and looking as if Oliver was a very complicated Arithmancy problem. "You're gay?"
Leave it to Percy to boil it down to the essential facts.
"Yes," Oliver whispered. It was strange hearing it said out loud. Not that Katie wasn't fucking loud, but she didn't count because she thought everybody was secretly gay.
"And you fancy me?"
"Yes."
"So you made a list?"
"Yes."
"And the getting drunk and erm, sexual favours from Tom was just an accident?"
"Emotional disruption due to alcohol and patheticness."
"Ah."
Oliver stared at Percy. What the hell was he thinking? Why wasn't Percy running for the hills? Why was he still just sitting on the bed as if they weren't discussing Oliver's entire life?
"All right. I'll think about it then."
And then Percy squeezed his hand. Oliver felt like his life was full of dramatic moments and very anticlimactic climaxes, and wondered if he should be worried about what that said about the rest of his life, his sexual life in particular.
"What?"
Percy shifted back against the headboard until his long limbs were stretched out and his back was cradled by Oliver's pillow. He looked comfortable. Oliver felt confused and he expressed this.
"What?"
"I said I'll think about it."
"Think about what?"
"About you," Percy said, and Oliver swore there was a hint of a smile on his face.
"About me?"
"Yeah, about you making lists."
Oliver nodded. Percy patted his leg, and Oliver decided that he was done thinking for the time being. He didn't fucking care what Katie would say later after he regurgitated this whole story to her, because he was certainly still confused and was going to need a great deal of counselling on this whole thinking business of Percy's. But for the time being, he was just going to sleep off his hangover with his head in Percy's lap, Percy's hand in his hair, and Percy's voice talking about school and rules and tea.
<3<3<3<3<3
"So, just so we're on the same really gay — and when I say gay I mean flaming queen — page. You professed your undying love for Percy Weasley. He said he would think about it. And then you two just cuddled and fell asleep."
Oliver looked at Katie and felt the need to just tackle her and beat the living daylights out of her because she was the most annoying best friend in the entire world. And she was right. He was really gay.
"Yes, you little shit."
"Huh."
"Yeah."
"Have you talked about it since?"
"It's been a day, Katie. Percy isn't like you. He doesn't need to insert himself into every situation the exact moment it happens."
"How am I not supposed to make an arse joke when you say things like insert?"
"Please refrain and focus on what the hell I'm supposed to do about this."
"Maybe you should read up."
"Read up on what?"
"Gay lifestyle and such."
"Lifestyle?"
"Sex, mostly in public, from what I gather from the back covers of all those trashy homoerotic novels Angelina swears she doesn't read. I think I read one with a stalker," she said contemplatively. "I think they lived happily ever after in Blow Job Land eventually. Maybe it'll work for you, too."
"I'm not a stalker and I'm pretty sure I've had enough of the public sex."
Oliver wished he had better control of his mouth. Katie looked like the cat that had demolished the canary with alarming speed.
"I've been meaning to speak with you about the head by the Head Boy thing."
"Katie," Oliver said. "I can make the head and the Head Boy joke all by myself."
"Isn't that a pity? He really is a babe. Did you see that blond hair? Hot damn."
"I'm leaving now."
"Do you think Tom and Percy would do a threesome with you? And could I watch?"
Oliver choked on his tongue.
"You know how much I've always wanted to shag a Weasley!"
"Not this one!"
"I'm joking, Oliver."
"Christ."
<3<3<3<3<3
It turned out that Oliver hadn't needed to worry about the thinking that Percy had been doing. Oliver was on his way to the pitch when he was pulled into a linen cupboard and snogged. There were a few moments when Oliver had panicked, thinking that Roger Davies had finally caught him and was dragging him to his secret lair. But Oliver felt the press of glasses against his cheek, and Percy's long fingers around his wrists. It was the most blissful forty-five seconds of Oliver's life thus far.Percy's mouth was tentative but desperate against his, lips pressing firmly with small licks that had Oliver gasping and clutching at Percy's thin shoulders. And then Percy's tongue was pressed up against his, and Oliver was moaning because this was exactly what he had been imagining since he'd figured out he liked cock.
Percy pressed against him until Oliver could feel his whole body against the wall of the cupboard. His practice uniform was itchy in the cloth areas, but the leather felt like a second skin as Oliver writhed against Percy. He was so warm, and he smelled like the library and peaches. It was intoxicating, the way he smelled, his mouth open and demanding against Oliver's. Making out with Percy was so much better than getting blown by Tom. It was hard to explain, but when Oliver felt Percy's cock pressing through his trousers and against his own aching cock, Oliver felt like a thousand blow jobs by Tom wouldn't hold a candle to just kissing Percy. So much so, that Oliver actually felt like he was on the edge of coming the moment their hips connected, and he moaned into Percy's mouth, clutching at Percy's back until Percy gasped and broke their kiss.
They didn't move apart, but Oliver didn't move in for a second kiss. He felt like he was ultra sensitive at every point where his body was connected to Percy, as if his entire body had been waiting to be touched by Percy. Percy was panting against his cheek, and Oliver could barely make out the rim of his glasses down around his nose. Oliver pushed them back into place and Percy sighed.
"Gods, Perce," Oliver whispered as his hips seemed to move in tiny circles without his consent, but it felt so bloody fantastic. And Percy was panting. Panting!
Percy leaned forward, pushing their cocks together and causing Oliver to make a dramatic little whimpering noise.
"Have a good practice, Ollie."
And then he was gone, and Oliver was coming in his pants.
After pulling himself together and cleaning the inside of his underwear and practice uniform, Oliver walked to the pitch with a spring in his step, filing away three things to tell Katie later.
One, that Percy was a fantastic kisser. Second, he was not as stuffy as she always accused him of being because he had pulled Oliver into the linen cupboard, not the other way around.
And third, that Percy's cock was huge if the bulge in his trousers was anything to go on.
<3<3<3<3<3
Oliver didn't see Percy in the day after the impromptu snogging. It wasn't that Percy was avoiding him. At least Oliver didn't think that was what was going on, because Percy had smiled at him and blushed in the morning when Oliver had woken up to an almost-dressed Percy writing him a note. Oliver hadn't been very coherent, but Percy had bid him a good practice and said that he wouldn't be back to the dorms because he had a meeting with the Prefects and a tutoring group afterwards, and he was supposed to meet with McGonagall, too. Oliver had nodded, and drifted back to sleep before Percy had even left his bedside.
Despite the fact that the note only said, Ollie, it was still in Percy's handwriting, and so Oliver kept it. If that made Katie call him a sentimental queen, then so be it.
Unfortunately, after such a promising morning, his day slowly turned to shit. He didn't have any classes with Percy that day, and when he did see him, it was from a distance and it was only the top of his head as he moved through the crowded halls. Oliver had Divination first, which always gave him a headache from the smell, and he was tired of the prediction that he was going to fall tragically from his broom in mid-air and splatter all across the ground in a gruesome death. As entertaining as it had been the first thirty times Trelawny foretold it, the fortune had become tiresome and only made him irritated today. Katie called him bitchy. It did not improve his mood.
Care of Magical Creatures was usually one of Oliver's favourite classes because it was out of doors. Unfortunately, today was not his day. Twenty minutes into class, he was attacked by some hybrid animal that Kettleburn had been showing them in an example of the dangerous temptations of meddling with the cross-breeding of species. Katie had laughed hysterically while Oliver beat the thing off as it squawked and flailed, and dug its talons and fangs into Oliver's ribs. Kettleburn had been lamenting about the damage Oliver had done to the thing as Katie had helped him to the infirmary. She had stopped laughing so hard when she realized he was bleeding so much, but she still grinned when Madam Pomfrey had tutted over him and asked him if it was a hate crime.
Seriously? Oliver had wanted to laugh, but Katie had been so hysterical about the whole event that he just stuck with sulking, and told Madam Pomfrey that the only hate involved was his own for magical creatures. She looked on disbelievingly and wrote him a note for the rest of the day off due to 'emotional distress'. She had no idea.
He had wanted to spend the rest of the day sleeping, but he had completely forgotten to write the rest of his History of Magic essay, and he still had practice that evening. By the time he was dashing off to practice, ink still covering his hands from where the ink well had dumped over everything, Oliver was in a wretched mood. He was bitchy, and there was a good chance that practice wasn't going to go well with his sore ribs and bad attitude.
It was worse than he could have imagined.
The weather had turned even more wretched than his mood — a near-on hurricane — which normally wouldn't have been too bad, because they had played in hurricane weather before and a little practice in it wouldn't hurt. Only the twins had picked that practice to show up high, which also wouldn't have been much of a problem because honestly, they flew better when high. But the weather made it so that they needed to have their wits about them. After the fifth bludger took out a player, Oliver wasn't happy. When the eighth bludger hit his sore ribs, causing them to bleed again, Oliver was livid and in considerable pain. Katie tried to help but it was no use, and after two hours of rogue bludgers, awful weather, and a lot of yelling on his part, Oliver packed it in and went to go drown himself in the showers. He was cold and upset, and needed some time to just be unreasonable.
The team left the locker room without even a backward glance. Oliver felt there was some decency in the world when the twins looked slightly guilty, but it wasn't enough to cheer him up. Plus, the shower drowning would have been better executed if the water hadn't burned like a mother fucker, and he hadn't slipped on the soap and fallen on his arse.
It just wasn't his day.
Oliver practically crawled to the dorm. His side was aching and he was pretty sure there was still some soap in his arse to top it all off. Again, not his day. But the dorm room was exceptionally warm, and there were a few candles still lit, which meant that Percy was likely still up. Oliver idly wondered what time it was, but he was so exhausted he barely had the energy to get his kit off before he extinguished the light beside his bed and collapsed.
On top of someone.
Naturally, Oliver panicked a bit because he was still afraid Davies was going to come out of nowhere, and this was the sort of creeper thing that Davies would do, but when the body that Oliver had landed on squeaked instead of grunted, Oliver was surprised and pleased. He rolled off of the lump that was presumably Percy, and the covers lifted up.
"'lo."
"Hi."
Oliver was grinning so wide that he was afraid he was going to break something, but there wasn't a better ending to a completely shit day than Percy in his bed. Fuck, just the smell of Percy in his bed, clean and parchment and peaches, was enough to make the tragedy of the day melt away. The thought, probably actually made him grow a twat, but Oliver was too far gone to care. He just kept grinning.
"I've had a complete shit day."
His voice felt too loud in the dorm, but he could see Percy smiling in the sliver of moonlight, his glasses gone from his face. And then his hand was around Percy's wrist, and Percy was pulling him closer. Percy shifted, and Oliver slid up into a spot against Percy's neck that Oliver had only daydreamed about, his nose pressed against the soft skin of Percy's throat. The rest of their limbs just seem to tangle together, and Oliver didn't even think about how fucking perfect it all was. He did notice the warmth of Percy's chest, and the way Percy's legs were much longer than his own. Percy's hands roamed around until he found the bandage across Oliver's ribs and stopped. Oliver mewed at the lack of caress against his skin.
"What happened?" Percy asked in a sleepy voice that would have turned Oliver on if he wasn't so tired. Instead, it felt comfortable and gave him a feeling like pixies were in his stomach.
"'S nothin'."
Percy doesn't argue, and Oliver is grateful for the silence. It wasn't long before Oliver could actually feel Percy's breaths deepen and even out. Percy's hands had ended up in very Percy places; his right was tangled in Oliver's hair, and his left was tucked into the back of Oliver's pants in such a way that had Oliver more on top of him than next to him. It was bloody fantastic.
Oliver just hung on for dear life and prayed that morning would never come, which was a distinctly different opinion of the day than he'd had before.
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Oliver woke up with his head pressed into his pillow and Percy's erection pressed against his arse.
He wasn't sure if there had ever been a better morning in the history of boarding school gays.
His own morning wood was present but that wasn’t not much of a surprise. The clock on the wall read just half six, which was entirely too early for anything but sleep in Oliver's opinion, but just then there were lips against the back of his neck and Oliver moaned. He felt Percy chuckling before he heard it, and it made him arch his back, pushing his arse against Percy's erection and his neck against Percy's open mouthed kisses. There was a quiet confidence about Percy that Oliver had always admired, and it certainly seemed to shine through when it came to Oliver and sex. Between the linen cupboard and finding Percy in his bed when he got back the night before, it seemed Percy was done thinking. Oliver thought thinking was over-rated anyway. He thought Katie might agree.
And then, all thoughts of Katie were gone because Percy's fingers had slipped beneath the waist of Oliver's pants, and holy god. The same hand that held quills and flourished wands with confidence was wrapped around his prick, and Oliver was pretty sure he was never going to be able to look at Percy without coming in his pants for the rest of his life.
"Fuck, Percy."
He didn't comment, just moved his hand tightly up and down Oliver's cock, and Oliver's mind felt like it would explode. Percy was rocking with each tug on Oliver's cock, pressing his own against Oliver's arse. Oliver ground back as Percy's other hand wandered to Oliver's nipples, and Oliver's own hands alternated from tugging on Percy's hair to pulling at Percy's pants. Percy pinched a nipple, and Oliver whimpered, and suddenly the pants just had to go.
"Perce, pants—" Oliver didn't have the mind to finish his sentence before he was twisting around to kiss Percy while he simultaneously tried to rid Percy of his pants. The idea was there, but the execution needed a little work, which sounded strangely like his practice schedule. But Percy, ever prepared Percy, was there to help him yank down Percy's and then his own without breaking their sloppy kiss. Oliver wanted to care about Percy's morning breath and the fact that Percy's toenail was digging into his calf, but he just couldn't. They were naked and touching. Oliver was happy to have any mental function at all.
Their cocks were rubbing against each other and the friction was maddening, but not enough, and Oliver wanted, needed more. The position on their sides was awkward, but Oliver was beyond caring as he wrapped his hand around both of their cocks as they thrust together, pre-come bubbling up from both of theirs slits as Oliver stroked them in time to the rocking of their hips. How many times had Oliver imagined them here? God, but reality was so much better. For one, Percy's cock was so much bigger and more freckled, and all Oliver could think about was next time. Next time, he'd get to suck Percy's orgasm out of him, or the next time, when he'd let Percy stretch him out with ink-stained fingers and his tongue until Percy could fit his cock up there, and then—
Oliver moaned and tightened his grip on their cocks, faster, harder, more.
"God, Ollie," Percy said in a breathy tone that had Oliver moaning and pressing his face against Percy's neck and sucking. Percy's hand joined Oliver's around their cocks, his long fingers pulling and tugging with the snap of their hips. Oliver's leg had managed to crawl up to curl around Percy's lower back, and they seemed maddeningly close. Oliver had to kiss him. It was sloppy and desperate, and Oliver could practically taste tea and sleep on Percy's tongue. Percy pulled away, and Oliver opened his eyes to find Percy looking, blue eyes wide with lust, from where they were stroking together into Oliver's face. He leaned his forehead against Percy's and watched the way they thrust against each other, cocks red and swollen.
"Perce, I'm so close."
Percy sped up their hands, and Oliver hadn't even noticed that Percy's other hand had left the nape of his neck until he felt a finger pressing into his entrance. The small tingle of his orgasm that had started in his spine just seemed to erupt out of him in a moan as he buried his face in Percy's neck and bit down. God, he was coming so hard he was shaking. He felt Percy continue stroking him through his orgasm, and then Percy was coming too, his head thrown back and his come splashing against Oliver's stomach.
"Fuck."
Oliver laughed. It was one of the only times he had ever heard Percy curse and it was fantastic. Oliver looked up, caressing the angry mark he had made on Percy's shoulder when he had come. Oliver smiled, and he saw Percy blush.
"You're blushing now?"
"You bit me!"
"You cursed! And you jumped into my bed last night and took advantage of my fragile state!"
"I did not jump or take advantage," Percy said with his cheeks flushed. Oliver grinned and pulled Percy close until their foreheads were touching once more. He felt high, like when they won the House Cup, or when Charlie had handed him the Quidditch Cup and the Captaincy. It was like that, except better. A million times better.
"So, I guess this means you're done thinking."
"It certainly does."
This time, Oliver kissed Percy, and it was soft and a little bit sexy and all sorts of right. He thought, maybe he wasn't as bad at seducing as he'd thought, and that maybe love and Quidditch had just as much in common as sex and Quidditch.
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Years later, Oliver would realize that he hadn't been in love with Percy at Hogwarts. He'd been falling, surely, but after spending the rest of this life getting to know the anal retentive bastard, Oliver realized there was much more to love, and that Oliver had barely unwrapped the mystery that was Percy Weasley until after three break-ups, two Lubrication Spell accidents, one war and several drunken nights later.
But, he was certainly glad that he had made a list, ignored most of what Katie had ever said, and taken to Percy like he'd taken to a broom.
In the end, they all got what they wanted, Oliver supposed. Oliver got Percy. Percy got Oliver.
And Katie finally got to shag a Weasley. Which one? Well, that's another story.
