Fic: Percy says fwompp (Oliver/Percy)
Jun. 19th, 2012 07:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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hp_rarefestTitle: Percy says fwompp
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
naturegirlrocks
Prompt: .#100
Pairing(s): Oliver/Percy
Word Count: ca 4000
Rating: R to be safe
Warning(s): A little bit silly
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Percy is on a forced vacation, Oliver crashes into him, repeatedly...
Percy Weasley stepped out of the floo. He dusted the ashes of his clothes with a turn of his wand and placed his bag on the floor. He adjusted his square glasses on his freckly nose and put a wayward lock of red hair, that was escaping the come-back spell, behind his ear. He looked around the cottage; one room divided into one kitchen area and one sitting room area; a staircase leading up to an alcove over his head, where he was sure to find the bed. It looked just as a typical cottage in the Scottish highlands should look. That is, if the cottage was owned by the Ministry of Magic and was exclusive only to VIPs within that organisation.
Percy was not a VIP, he knew that much. He was a former ministry aid that had betted on the wrong horse in the war and was now working in the Janitorial and Guide Department. A group of people, that was horribly nicknamed 'the jiggedy's' who were responsible for, among other things, keeping the Ministry clean, everyone in good supply of paper-clips and keeping all guests entertained. Percy's job could be anything from recasting a Perpetual Lumus, to writing manuals for enchanted typewriters, to serving coffee to foreign dignitaries. He liked the variety of the work, since it was such a challenge to organize efficiently and schedule correctly. Percy lived for that challenge.
The head of this department, Mr. Fisher, had insisted on that Percy spent his vacation here at this VIP cottage. Mr. Fisher had even cleared it with the Minister of Magic himself when Percy insisted on that vacations were for people who didn't know how to organize their time. He had also handed Mr. Fisher an well-written essay stating just this. It was after Mr. Fisher read this essay that Percy was awarded with two weeks vacation instead of one. Percy suspected that Mr. Fisher didn't really get the point of the text. He sighed and put a self-unpacking charm on his bag.
From his inner pocket he then pulled out a sharp self-inking raven quill and a small leather day-planner that he bought in a Muggle book-store. Muggles; now there were some people who knew about efficiency. Percy opened the note book to the right page, licked the quill and looked over the first lines of his perfectly planned vacation.
“Arrival, eight thirty, check,” he checked the post. “Unpacking...” he glanced to his bag and the neatly folded and colour-coordinated clothes flying to the closet. “Check. Next... Tea!”
He closed his day-planner and placed it on the oak kitchen table with the quill next to it. The kitchen was supposed to be fully stocked, and he'd just have to floo if he missed anything. Percy opened one of the cabinets and found a row of different tinned food. Wizard kind tinned food, of course, the kind that contains a full meal with dessert, and not just soup or vegetables. No tea though.
Next cabinet proved more lucky; no more than seventeen different kinds of tea were lined up on the bottom shelf. Percy frowned as there was no English Breakfast. Feeling a bit adventurous Percy choose a teabag with black lemon flavoured tea instead. As waited ten seconds for the water to boil in his spelled cup he opened the envelope to the teabag and looked out the window on the sunny misty morning outside. This wasn't being half-bad at all, he thought. He might even have time to schedule in a walk later this afternoon, he had to look in his book. Percy lowered the teabag in the water. That was the end of tranquillity.
The next moment the kitchen window exploded. Or at least it seamed like it exploded when something big smashed right through it. Percy screamed loudly and covered his head with his arms, slapping himself in the face with the hot and wet teabag in the process. He fell backwards towards the cupboards, hitting his back hard on a knob handle, and then the cup of hot water fell in his lap. He screamed again.
“Woo-hee!” yelled someone with a happy laugh. “Awesome!”
Percy lowered his arms and adjusted his glasses. The kitchen was a mess full of scattered glass, plaster and wood. And Woods. Oliver Woods. The tall man brushed his robes and looked around. His eyes fell on Percy.
“Perce!” he yelled and held out his arms, a cloud of dust flew around him.
“Wha-, wha-” Percy struggled to his feet, his fist clenched around the tea bag. “What are you doing here?!”
“Slight miscalculation,” Woods turned around again, looking for something. “Ah!”
He picked up an advanced broom from the floor and started examining it.
“Excuse me!” Percy stomped his foot. “You have broken Ministry property! Executive property even! How dare you just stand there with your stupid broom like nothing happened! This is outrageous! I have a good mind to report you to...!”
“Cool your pants, Perce,” Woods laughed and clapped Percy on the shoulder, whisking away some debris. “And this is not a 'stupid broom', it's a Comet X!”
He held up the broom like a thing that was meant to be worshipped. Percy was not impressed. Though he had been growing up in a family of quiddich lunatics, he had kept himself to things that really mattered; like books and calculations. He folded his arms and looked passed the broom to Woods dirty face.
“Come on,” Woods tried again with the broom. “Comet X! Also known as 'The Blast'?”
“It certainly made a blast in the wall,” huffed Percy and bent down to take his day-planner and quill of the floor. “Now I have to do a complete new schedule...”
“Look. I’m sorry about your ‘executive property’. I’ll fix it for you; I do things like this all the time. I have come to be quite a good builder you know. What's that?”
He took Percy's day-planner, it was dusty and a piece of glass had pierced the outer cover. Percy gave a yell and reached for the book, but Woods kept it out of his reach and started reading it.
“Hey!” Percy tried to get to the book but Oliver kept it out of range. “That is my private property!”
“You only write a lot of numbers...” Oliver threw the book back with little care. “I thought you at least wrote sappy poetry or dirty limericks or something.”
Percy huffed at the very idea. He looked through his book, feeling a bit put off. He thought his numbers where very interesting. Though he had been told many times before, mostly by his brothers, that he shouldn’t show them to others.
“I always knew you were a smart chap,” Oliver winked at him and looked at the broken kitchen. “I can fix this.”
Oliver pulled his wand and started replacing the broken pieces of the window. Percy was quite impressed with his skill. As another part of broken glass melted together with the window-frame Percy shifted nervously. He was looking at Oliver’s strong hands as they moved easily though the air. He stood still for a while, thinking that he ought to do something. Percy decided to go outside.
He spent the rest if the morning walking around the outskirts of the cottage’s property, counting flowers and drawing graphs over them. He knew it was silly, but he really didn’t want to be close to Oliver for the moment.
At Hogwarts, he and Oliver had been in the same year, the same class, the same house, even in the same dorm room. Oliver had had a one track mind back then, and that track was quiddich. He had never seen Percy, because Percy was not one of his screaming fans. But Percy had seen him, and like so many others; had also given up on him. Percy had buried himself deeper in his studies and his work.
To now have Oliver so close was stirring old feelings inside Percy. He had deemed these feelings as silly teenage notions, but he wasn't a teenager anymore. He was an adult, a statistician, an expert in efficiency and a trusted junior of the Ministry of Magic that had earned a holiday the exclusive VIP cottage. These erratic thoughts about lost feelings was not him.
When he got back around lunch, Oliver was gone, and the kitchen was only half-mended. There was a note on the table saying that Oliver was going to return in the morning with some building material that he hadn’t been able to conjure up by himself. Percy guessed that the man had gotten bored and decided to go for a fly instead. He severely hoped that the idiot wasn’t crashing somewhere before the VIP cottage was finished.
He had to clench his fists not to fix the kitchen himself. It was Oliver’s responsibility and Percy was all for taking responsibility. To stop looking at the unfinished destruction he buried himself in the work he had brought with him. It lasted him all the way into the afternoon.
Then he walked straight to the kitchen and delicately mended everything that Oliver had left behind. There was no need to conjure any materials.
---------------
Percy rose at exactly 7:45 in the morning when his wand chimed. It was five hours since he fell asleep. By 7:55 he was showered, shaved, dressed and sitting by the kitchen table with a cup of plain black tea, a cheese sandwich and the Prophet. He glared over the newspaper to the wall and window. It looked good, but it made him irritated that Oliver had abandoned it.
He held up the paper so he didn’t have to look at the wall. On average it took about fifteen minutes to leaf through the news, twenty if there was anything interesting. He didn’t care for sports or entertainment, and he just browsed through the society page to see if there was anyone he knew mentioned.
There was an ad for brooms in the top right corner of the third page. Normally Percy wouldn’t care about ads, they were only about fooling people buying thing that they didn’t need. But “Comet X”, wasn’t that the broom Oliver had bragged about before? Now that he looked closer, wasn’t that Oliver in the picture that was actually holding the broom with a ridiculous smile? He squinted closer at the sparkling picture. Why did they always have to have sparkles? That was just vulgar. He glared at the picture.
The next moment there was a big confusing crash of wood and glass, the Prophet was torn apart, Percy was pushed backwards and landed on the floor with something big on top of him.
“Woo-hii!” said the big something and looked down at him. “Now that was a crash!”
“You...” Percy clenched his teeth.
“Perce!” Oliver smiled. “What are you doing there?”
“Trying not to kill you,” hissed Percy. “Didn’t they teach you how to fly in the Falcons?”
“You’ve been checking up on me,” Oliver suddenly seemed closer
“Get off me!”
They got up on their feet. Percy looked around the, again, destroyed kitchen. He sighed as hi eyes raked over his ruined breakfast, paper and morning peace.
“You have absolutely no respect what so ever for the Ministry’s property,” he said, taking out his wand to retrieve some order to the kitchen.
“I’ll have you know that I do respect the Ministry,” Oliver was inspecting his broom for damage. “If it wasn’t for the Department of Sports and Games I wouldn’t be flying these beauties.”
“Then I can only take it that you are a abysmal flyer,” Percy was mending his teacup, squinting closly at the cracks. “Though two times is too low a number of times to base a plausible hypotheses on, you have managed to crash into the same room both times that I met you within ten hours. Statistically it’s a one hundred percent chance that you’ll crash into this kitchen again the next time I see you and will thereby prove my point about your skills.”
He looked up from the now perfectly mended teacup. Oliver was staring at him with a slightly open mouth. Percy cleared his throat. He had to stop doing that. His brothers, sister, co-workers, boss and everybody else had told him many times that it was irritating when he went into one of his ‘statistic moods’. Then Oliver laughed.
“You are a funny guy,” he smiled.
Percy frowned, he had never been called funny before. Except from when his brothers or coworkers made fun of him and he ended up covered in some kind of disgusting potion. He quickly looked Oliver over to see if there where any kind of phials or contraptions on his person. Nothing but brown hair, lean muscles and well-fitting sports robes. He blushed.
“You fixed it,” Oliver inspected the newly crashed wall. “I said I would do it.”
“You done it all right...” Percy kicked a splinter of plaster on the floor.
"Lighten up, Perce. Do you want to come out for a ride?"
"I can't fly," said Percy, adding with half a un-used smile: “Either.”
"Come on," laughed Oliver. "Everyone can fly."
"Well, I can't." Percy irritably huffed and took up his journal from the floor. "Anyway, I already have plans for today."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. I'm going to the swamp gas mine museum. It's said to be very educational."
"Hey, the only thing there is to learn about swamp gas mines is that they smell and go fwampp when you crash in them, and then they smell even more."
Percy hid a laugh with a grunt and tried to look concentrated on restoring the kitchen table.
"I know!" Oliver excitedly hit his had with his fist. "There is a Muggle town festival in the next village, why don't we go there? My mother's father was a Muggle, he took me to places like that all the time."
"Muggle town festival?"
Percy thought about it. It actually sound kind of educating. It would also be something his father later would like to talk to him about. He looked down at his neat schedule, and then up at Oliver, who looked so handsome Percy's heart skipped a beat.
"I guess I could go..."
"Great!" Oliver grinned even bigger and took out his wand. "I'll go home and change my clothes, ten minutes."
He jumped on his broom and was gone before Percy had time to ask what he meant by that. Change? Did that mean into Muggle clothes? Percy didn't have any of those.
Luckily, Percy was the kind of person that wrote things down. He cast a spell on his journal and it opened on a page headlined: Muggles, clothes, summer.
"For bathing: By, key, knee," read Percy and found himself lost from the start, he looked further down. "Going out in day: Over knee blue trousers, colourful floral pattern short-sleeved shirt, soles tied on with straps, socks optional. Sounds easy enough,"
Percy spelled his trousers blue and shortened them. They now reached halfway down his thigh. He did worse on the shirt. It managed to turn bright pink and green and one size too small under his spells; shirts had never been Percy's best skill.
He had put in his best black socks and was still trying to figure out how to strap soles to his feet with twine when Oliver returned with a pop on the doorstep.
"What?" Percy looked up at him from his seat by the kitchen table.
"Has anybody ever told you that you are really cute?"
"What? Are the trousers too long?"
Oliver had on beige linen trousers, a short-sleeved light blue shirt and some sporty looking white shoes. He laughed.
"They look great on you. You have very nice legs."
"Don't say things like that," Percy huffed irritably.
"Let me help you with that," Oliver got down on one knee and took Percy's right foot in his hands.
Percy made a faint noise of protest, but was overwhelmed by the light touch.
"Let's take these off," Oliver pulled the black sock off. "You don't want to advertise to everyone that you are a nerd."
"Excuse me?!" Percy pushed his glasses up his nose.
"Never mind," Oliver laughed, smiled and rubbed Percy's toes.
It felt nice. They looked into each others eyes for a few moments. Percy blushed, turned away and cleared his throat.
"The straps," he said, adjusting his glasses again.
"Hrm, yes."
Oliver took out his wand and transfigured Percy's attempts of footwear to something he called sandals. Percy quite liked them, but still wished that he had been allowed to keep his socks.
They apparated to a the outskirts of a small town decorated in white paper flags and surrounded with music from brass instruments. At the sight of the Muggles Percy felt that his shirt was too bright and his trousers too short. Oliver assured him that he looked great, but Percy was beginning to think that the man was just pulling his leg.
The day was none the less quite enjoyable. They tried out seven different types of apple pie, six types of jam and no more that eight different kinds of homemade schnapps. At least Percy thought that was the number of things; Oliver had taken away his notebook. Percy found himself both full and tipsy at the end of the day, and it was not only because of the strange plastic-horse merry-go-round that Oliver had made him go on at least ten times.
"What is the use of such a contraption anyway?" asked Percy as an enthusiastic, and red-cheeked, inn-keeper held up a tray of fennel schnapps to his face and urged him forcibly to try it out.
"To have fun," Oliver took two small glasses from the tray. "Bottoms up."
"Completely non-efficient waste of time," huffed Percy. "Hey, hey... are you, you trying to get me drunk?"
"You are already drunk," Oliver chucked down his glass. "Watch out or I'll have my way with you."
"Was that then?" Percy swallowed his small, but strong, drink. "Crash me into a small house? Make me go fwompp?"
"Have I told you how cute you are? Especially when you say fwompp."
"Shut up," Percy frowned.
He pushed him in the chest, Oliver caught his hand, leaned forward and kissed him. Percy was shocked, but was also too drunk, or too willing, to tare himself away.
When Oliver dislodged from his lips Percy suddenly became aware of all stares and whispers from the Muggles around them. He blushed and corrected his glasses. Then he slapped Oliver in the face.
Then he hiccuped and fainted.
------------------
He woke up in the bed of the VIP cottage. His head was splitting and he couldn't find his glasses. Also, he needed to pee.
As he got up from the bed he noticed that he was wearing both pants and pyjama bottoms. Well, that was decent of him a small part of his painful brain thought. Percy staggered to the bathroom, pulling down his trousers and pants to his knees so he could just empty his bladder without hassle.
"Uh," he groaned listening to the sound of his urine hitting the toilet, it sounded too much, even after he stopped peeing.
"And I tried so hard not to sneak a peak of your arse last night."
Percy turned around in panic. He was standing face to face with, a very naked, Oliver Wood in the running shower.
"I like this view of you as well," Oliver leered.
"Wha- what are you doing here?" Percy's hands clenched around the sink behind him.
"Taking a shower, getting a hard-on."
"Stop joking around!" Percy huffed, tugging up his pants.
This motion did, unfortunately, get him a good view of the hard-on in question. While it was quite impressive, it more or less scared the shit out of him. Before anything more had time to be said or done, Percy had his trousers on and was out of the bathroom.
He didn't stop there but continued downstairs, passed the still broken kitchen, and out of the house. Since he didn't have his glasses he bumped into the doorframe and got disoriented. He had to sit down on the porch to stop the world from spinning. The morning sun was warm and birds were singing everywhere. Percy hid his face in his hands. He was sitting outside on the ground only in his pyjama bottoms and a head ache, because he was too scared of the naked man in the shower. Percy rubbed his face.
"How are you feeling?"
Percy looked to his side. Oliver, wearing a simple blue robe, sat next to him, holding forward a cup of steaming potion. It was probably for his hangover.
"Leave me alone," Percy sighed.
"I don't want to."
Percy took the cup and sipped the potion. He felt better immediately, but he was still embarrassed. Oliver handed Percy his glasses. Percy put them on with out looking at him. He wished he had his wand, which he had forgotten on the bedside table, so that he could apparate away.
"You look cool without your glasses," grinned Oliver.
"Please don't say that," Percy looked down at the warm cup in his hands.
"Why?" Oliver tried to catch his eye but didn't succeed.
"I'm not cool. Bill is cool, Charlie is pretty, the twins are funny, and Ron and Ginny are the cute ones."
"What are you then?"
"Me?" Percy shrugged with half a smile. "I'm the boring one," he placed the cup pn the ground. "I'm the one that doesn't need attention. I can manage fine on my own... I’m the traitor...”
"Stop it!" Oliver grabbed hold of Percy, forcing him to turn his way. "Don't say that about yourself!"
"But it's true." He pushed against Oliver's hard chest to get away, but it wouldn't budge. "Why do you bother with me? You're a rich, successful, handsome quiddich star. You could have anyone you want!"
"You think I'm handsome?"
Percy tried to hide the tears in his eyes, but Oliver had taken hold of his chin. He stared into two honest chestnut-coloured eyes.
"I don't want anyone else! I want you!" Oliver embraced him with his strong arms. "Why don't you understand, Perce? I think you are cool, pretty, funny and cute."
Oliver pressed his lips against Percy's.
"I'm in love with you, you dolt," he whispered. " I fell in love with you the moment I crashed into that window. I was a fool thinking only of quiddich in school, when I should have looked at you."
Percy couldn't help himself and leaned in closer. Oliver just held him tighter and kissed him even deeper.
“What do you say?” Oliver leaned his forehead against Percy’s.
“If you fix the kitchen, I’ll let you crash into me and say‘fwompp.”
“I knew you were a funny guy.”
Oliver threw a series of spells over his shoulder. There was a noise from inside the cottage. Percy turned to look and noticed the window was whole.
“I have crashed a couple of times before,” smirked Oliver. “You should see my house. I just wanted to come back here to see you.“
Percy blushed.
“fwompp"
The End.
Author/Artist:
naturegirlrocksPrompt: .#100
Pairing(s): Oliver/Percy
Word Count: ca 4000
Rating: R to be safe
Warning(s): A little bit silly
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Percy is on a forced vacation, Oliver crashes into him, repeatedly...
Percy Weasley stepped out of the floo. He dusted the ashes of his clothes with a turn of his wand and placed his bag on the floor. He adjusted his square glasses on his freckly nose and put a wayward lock of red hair, that was escaping the come-back spell, behind his ear. He looked around the cottage; one room divided into one kitchen area and one sitting room area; a staircase leading up to an alcove over his head, where he was sure to find the bed. It looked just as a typical cottage in the Scottish highlands should look. That is, if the cottage was owned by the Ministry of Magic and was exclusive only to VIPs within that organisation.
Percy was not a VIP, he knew that much. He was a former ministry aid that had betted on the wrong horse in the war and was now working in the Janitorial and Guide Department. A group of people, that was horribly nicknamed 'the jiggedy's' who were responsible for, among other things, keeping the Ministry clean, everyone in good supply of paper-clips and keeping all guests entertained. Percy's job could be anything from recasting a Perpetual Lumus, to writing manuals for enchanted typewriters, to serving coffee to foreign dignitaries. He liked the variety of the work, since it was such a challenge to organize efficiently and schedule correctly. Percy lived for that challenge.
The head of this department, Mr. Fisher, had insisted on that Percy spent his vacation here at this VIP cottage. Mr. Fisher had even cleared it with the Minister of Magic himself when Percy insisted on that vacations were for people who didn't know how to organize their time. He had also handed Mr. Fisher an well-written essay stating just this. It was after Mr. Fisher read this essay that Percy was awarded with two weeks vacation instead of one. Percy suspected that Mr. Fisher didn't really get the point of the text. He sighed and put a self-unpacking charm on his bag.
From his inner pocket he then pulled out a sharp self-inking raven quill and a small leather day-planner that he bought in a Muggle book-store. Muggles; now there were some people who knew about efficiency. Percy opened the note book to the right page, licked the quill and looked over the first lines of his perfectly planned vacation.
“Arrival, eight thirty, check,” he checked the post. “Unpacking...” he glanced to his bag and the neatly folded and colour-coordinated clothes flying to the closet. “Check. Next... Tea!”
He closed his day-planner and placed it on the oak kitchen table with the quill next to it. The kitchen was supposed to be fully stocked, and he'd just have to floo if he missed anything. Percy opened one of the cabinets and found a row of different tinned food. Wizard kind tinned food, of course, the kind that contains a full meal with dessert, and not just soup or vegetables. No tea though.
Next cabinet proved more lucky; no more than seventeen different kinds of tea were lined up on the bottom shelf. Percy frowned as there was no English Breakfast. Feeling a bit adventurous Percy choose a teabag with black lemon flavoured tea instead. As waited ten seconds for the water to boil in his spelled cup he opened the envelope to the teabag and looked out the window on the sunny misty morning outside. This wasn't being half-bad at all, he thought. He might even have time to schedule in a walk later this afternoon, he had to look in his book. Percy lowered the teabag in the water. That was the end of tranquillity.
The next moment the kitchen window exploded. Or at least it seamed like it exploded when something big smashed right through it. Percy screamed loudly and covered his head with his arms, slapping himself in the face with the hot and wet teabag in the process. He fell backwards towards the cupboards, hitting his back hard on a knob handle, and then the cup of hot water fell in his lap. He screamed again.
“Woo-hee!” yelled someone with a happy laugh. “Awesome!”
Percy lowered his arms and adjusted his glasses. The kitchen was a mess full of scattered glass, plaster and wood. And Woods. Oliver Woods. The tall man brushed his robes and looked around. His eyes fell on Percy.
“Perce!” he yelled and held out his arms, a cloud of dust flew around him.
“Wha-, wha-” Percy struggled to his feet, his fist clenched around the tea bag. “What are you doing here?!”
“Slight miscalculation,” Woods turned around again, looking for something. “Ah!”
He picked up an advanced broom from the floor and started examining it.
“Excuse me!” Percy stomped his foot. “You have broken Ministry property! Executive property even! How dare you just stand there with your stupid broom like nothing happened! This is outrageous! I have a good mind to report you to...!”
“Cool your pants, Perce,” Woods laughed and clapped Percy on the shoulder, whisking away some debris. “And this is not a 'stupid broom', it's a Comet X!”
He held up the broom like a thing that was meant to be worshipped. Percy was not impressed. Though he had been growing up in a family of quiddich lunatics, he had kept himself to things that really mattered; like books and calculations. He folded his arms and looked passed the broom to Woods dirty face.
“Come on,” Woods tried again with the broom. “Comet X! Also known as 'The Blast'?”
“It certainly made a blast in the wall,” huffed Percy and bent down to take his day-planner and quill of the floor. “Now I have to do a complete new schedule...”
“Look. I’m sorry about your ‘executive property’. I’ll fix it for you; I do things like this all the time. I have come to be quite a good builder you know. What's that?”
He took Percy's day-planner, it was dusty and a piece of glass had pierced the outer cover. Percy gave a yell and reached for the book, but Woods kept it out of his reach and started reading it.
“Hey!” Percy tried to get to the book but Oliver kept it out of range. “That is my private property!”
“You only write a lot of numbers...” Oliver threw the book back with little care. “I thought you at least wrote sappy poetry or dirty limericks or something.”
Percy huffed at the very idea. He looked through his book, feeling a bit put off. He thought his numbers where very interesting. Though he had been told many times before, mostly by his brothers, that he shouldn’t show them to others.
“I always knew you were a smart chap,” Oliver winked at him and looked at the broken kitchen. “I can fix this.”
Oliver pulled his wand and started replacing the broken pieces of the window. Percy was quite impressed with his skill. As another part of broken glass melted together with the window-frame Percy shifted nervously. He was looking at Oliver’s strong hands as they moved easily though the air. He stood still for a while, thinking that he ought to do something. Percy decided to go outside.
He spent the rest if the morning walking around the outskirts of the cottage’s property, counting flowers and drawing graphs over them. He knew it was silly, but he really didn’t want to be close to Oliver for the moment.
At Hogwarts, he and Oliver had been in the same year, the same class, the same house, even in the same dorm room. Oliver had had a one track mind back then, and that track was quiddich. He had never seen Percy, because Percy was not one of his screaming fans. But Percy had seen him, and like so many others; had also given up on him. Percy had buried himself deeper in his studies and his work.
To now have Oliver so close was stirring old feelings inside Percy. He had deemed these feelings as silly teenage notions, but he wasn't a teenager anymore. He was an adult, a statistician, an expert in efficiency and a trusted junior of the Ministry of Magic that had earned a holiday the exclusive VIP cottage. These erratic thoughts about lost feelings was not him.
When he got back around lunch, Oliver was gone, and the kitchen was only half-mended. There was a note on the table saying that Oliver was going to return in the morning with some building material that he hadn’t been able to conjure up by himself. Percy guessed that the man had gotten bored and decided to go for a fly instead. He severely hoped that the idiot wasn’t crashing somewhere before the VIP cottage was finished.
He had to clench his fists not to fix the kitchen himself. It was Oliver’s responsibility and Percy was all for taking responsibility. To stop looking at the unfinished destruction he buried himself in the work he had brought with him. It lasted him all the way into the afternoon.
Then he walked straight to the kitchen and delicately mended everything that Oliver had left behind. There was no need to conjure any materials.
---------------
Percy rose at exactly 7:45 in the morning when his wand chimed. It was five hours since he fell asleep. By 7:55 he was showered, shaved, dressed and sitting by the kitchen table with a cup of plain black tea, a cheese sandwich and the Prophet. He glared over the newspaper to the wall and window. It looked good, but it made him irritated that Oliver had abandoned it.
He held up the paper so he didn’t have to look at the wall. On average it took about fifteen minutes to leaf through the news, twenty if there was anything interesting. He didn’t care for sports or entertainment, and he just browsed through the society page to see if there was anyone he knew mentioned.
There was an ad for brooms in the top right corner of the third page. Normally Percy wouldn’t care about ads, they were only about fooling people buying thing that they didn’t need. But “Comet X”, wasn’t that the broom Oliver had bragged about before? Now that he looked closer, wasn’t that Oliver in the picture that was actually holding the broom with a ridiculous smile? He squinted closer at the sparkling picture. Why did they always have to have sparkles? That was just vulgar. He glared at the picture.
The next moment there was a big confusing crash of wood and glass, the Prophet was torn apart, Percy was pushed backwards and landed on the floor with something big on top of him.
“Woo-hii!” said the big something and looked down at him. “Now that was a crash!”
“You...” Percy clenched his teeth.
“Perce!” Oliver smiled. “What are you doing there?”
“Trying not to kill you,” hissed Percy. “Didn’t they teach you how to fly in the Falcons?”
“You’ve been checking up on me,” Oliver suddenly seemed closer
“Get off me!”
They got up on their feet. Percy looked around the, again, destroyed kitchen. He sighed as hi eyes raked over his ruined breakfast, paper and morning peace.
“You have absolutely no respect what so ever for the Ministry’s property,” he said, taking out his wand to retrieve some order to the kitchen.
“I’ll have you know that I do respect the Ministry,” Oliver was inspecting his broom for damage. “If it wasn’t for the Department of Sports and Games I wouldn’t be flying these beauties.”
“Then I can only take it that you are a abysmal flyer,” Percy was mending his teacup, squinting closly at the cracks. “Though two times is too low a number of times to base a plausible hypotheses on, you have managed to crash into the same room both times that I met you within ten hours. Statistically it’s a one hundred percent chance that you’ll crash into this kitchen again the next time I see you and will thereby prove my point about your skills.”
He looked up from the now perfectly mended teacup. Oliver was staring at him with a slightly open mouth. Percy cleared his throat. He had to stop doing that. His brothers, sister, co-workers, boss and everybody else had told him many times that it was irritating when he went into one of his ‘statistic moods’. Then Oliver laughed.
“You are a funny guy,” he smiled.
Percy frowned, he had never been called funny before. Except from when his brothers or coworkers made fun of him and he ended up covered in some kind of disgusting potion. He quickly looked Oliver over to see if there where any kind of phials or contraptions on his person. Nothing but brown hair, lean muscles and well-fitting sports robes. He blushed.
“You fixed it,” Oliver inspected the newly crashed wall. “I said I would do it.”
“You done it all right...” Percy kicked a splinter of plaster on the floor.
"Lighten up, Perce. Do you want to come out for a ride?"
"I can't fly," said Percy, adding with half a un-used smile: “Either.”
"Come on," laughed Oliver. "Everyone can fly."
"Well, I can't." Percy irritably huffed and took up his journal from the floor. "Anyway, I already have plans for today."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. I'm going to the swamp gas mine museum. It's said to be very educational."
"Hey, the only thing there is to learn about swamp gas mines is that they smell and go fwampp when you crash in them, and then they smell even more."
Percy hid a laugh with a grunt and tried to look concentrated on restoring the kitchen table.
"I know!" Oliver excitedly hit his had with his fist. "There is a Muggle town festival in the next village, why don't we go there? My mother's father was a Muggle, he took me to places like that all the time."
"Muggle town festival?"
Percy thought about it. It actually sound kind of educating. It would also be something his father later would like to talk to him about. He looked down at his neat schedule, and then up at Oliver, who looked so handsome Percy's heart skipped a beat.
"I guess I could go..."
"Great!" Oliver grinned even bigger and took out his wand. "I'll go home and change my clothes, ten minutes."
He jumped on his broom and was gone before Percy had time to ask what he meant by that. Change? Did that mean into Muggle clothes? Percy didn't have any of those.
Luckily, Percy was the kind of person that wrote things down. He cast a spell on his journal and it opened on a page headlined: Muggles, clothes, summer.
"For bathing: By, key, knee," read Percy and found himself lost from the start, he looked further down. "Going out in day: Over knee blue trousers, colourful floral pattern short-sleeved shirt, soles tied on with straps, socks optional. Sounds easy enough,"
Percy spelled his trousers blue and shortened them. They now reached halfway down his thigh. He did worse on the shirt. It managed to turn bright pink and green and one size too small under his spells; shirts had never been Percy's best skill.
He had put in his best black socks and was still trying to figure out how to strap soles to his feet with twine when Oliver returned with a pop on the doorstep.
"What?" Percy looked up at him from his seat by the kitchen table.
"Has anybody ever told you that you are really cute?"
"What? Are the trousers too long?"
Oliver had on beige linen trousers, a short-sleeved light blue shirt and some sporty looking white shoes. He laughed.
"They look great on you. You have very nice legs."
"Don't say things like that," Percy huffed irritably.
"Let me help you with that," Oliver got down on one knee and took Percy's right foot in his hands.
Percy made a faint noise of protest, but was overwhelmed by the light touch.
"Let's take these off," Oliver pulled the black sock off. "You don't want to advertise to everyone that you are a nerd."
"Excuse me?!" Percy pushed his glasses up his nose.
"Never mind," Oliver laughed, smiled and rubbed Percy's toes.
It felt nice. They looked into each others eyes for a few moments. Percy blushed, turned away and cleared his throat.
"The straps," he said, adjusting his glasses again.
"Hrm, yes."
Oliver took out his wand and transfigured Percy's attempts of footwear to something he called sandals. Percy quite liked them, but still wished that he had been allowed to keep his socks.
They apparated to a the outskirts of a small town decorated in white paper flags and surrounded with music from brass instruments. At the sight of the Muggles Percy felt that his shirt was too bright and his trousers too short. Oliver assured him that he looked great, but Percy was beginning to think that the man was just pulling his leg.
The day was none the less quite enjoyable. They tried out seven different types of apple pie, six types of jam and no more that eight different kinds of homemade schnapps. At least Percy thought that was the number of things; Oliver had taken away his notebook. Percy found himself both full and tipsy at the end of the day, and it was not only because of the strange plastic-horse merry-go-round that Oliver had made him go on at least ten times.
"What is the use of such a contraption anyway?" asked Percy as an enthusiastic, and red-cheeked, inn-keeper held up a tray of fennel schnapps to his face and urged him forcibly to try it out.
"To have fun," Oliver took two small glasses from the tray. "Bottoms up."
"Completely non-efficient waste of time," huffed Percy. "Hey, hey... are you, you trying to get me drunk?"
"You are already drunk," Oliver chucked down his glass. "Watch out or I'll have my way with you."
"Was that then?" Percy swallowed his small, but strong, drink. "Crash me into a small house? Make me go fwompp?"
"Have I told you how cute you are? Especially when you say fwompp."
"Shut up," Percy frowned.
He pushed him in the chest, Oliver caught his hand, leaned forward and kissed him. Percy was shocked, but was also too drunk, or too willing, to tare himself away.
When Oliver dislodged from his lips Percy suddenly became aware of all stares and whispers from the Muggles around them. He blushed and corrected his glasses. Then he slapped Oliver in the face.
Then he hiccuped and fainted.
------------------
He woke up in the bed of the VIP cottage. His head was splitting and he couldn't find his glasses. Also, he needed to pee.
As he got up from the bed he noticed that he was wearing both pants and pyjama bottoms. Well, that was decent of him a small part of his painful brain thought. Percy staggered to the bathroom, pulling down his trousers and pants to his knees so he could just empty his bladder without hassle.
"Uh," he groaned listening to the sound of his urine hitting the toilet, it sounded too much, even after he stopped peeing.
"And I tried so hard not to sneak a peak of your arse last night."
Percy turned around in panic. He was standing face to face with, a very naked, Oliver Wood in the running shower.
"I like this view of you as well," Oliver leered.
"Wha- what are you doing here?" Percy's hands clenched around the sink behind him.
"Taking a shower, getting a hard-on."
"Stop joking around!" Percy huffed, tugging up his pants.
This motion did, unfortunately, get him a good view of the hard-on in question. While it was quite impressive, it more or less scared the shit out of him. Before anything more had time to be said or done, Percy had his trousers on and was out of the bathroom.
He didn't stop there but continued downstairs, passed the still broken kitchen, and out of the house. Since he didn't have his glasses he bumped into the doorframe and got disoriented. He had to sit down on the porch to stop the world from spinning. The morning sun was warm and birds were singing everywhere. Percy hid his face in his hands. He was sitting outside on the ground only in his pyjama bottoms and a head ache, because he was too scared of the naked man in the shower. Percy rubbed his face.
"How are you feeling?"
Percy looked to his side. Oliver, wearing a simple blue robe, sat next to him, holding forward a cup of steaming potion. It was probably for his hangover.
"Leave me alone," Percy sighed.
"I don't want to."
Percy took the cup and sipped the potion. He felt better immediately, but he was still embarrassed. Oliver handed Percy his glasses. Percy put them on with out looking at him. He wished he had his wand, which he had forgotten on the bedside table, so that he could apparate away.
"You look cool without your glasses," grinned Oliver.
"Please don't say that," Percy looked down at the warm cup in his hands.
"Why?" Oliver tried to catch his eye but didn't succeed.
"I'm not cool. Bill is cool, Charlie is pretty, the twins are funny, and Ron and Ginny are the cute ones."
"What are you then?"
"Me?" Percy shrugged with half a smile. "I'm the boring one," he placed the cup pn the ground. "I'm the one that doesn't need attention. I can manage fine on my own... I’m the traitor...”
"Stop it!" Oliver grabbed hold of Percy, forcing him to turn his way. "Don't say that about yourself!"
"But it's true." He pushed against Oliver's hard chest to get away, but it wouldn't budge. "Why do you bother with me? You're a rich, successful, handsome quiddich star. You could have anyone you want!"
"You think I'm handsome?"
Percy tried to hide the tears in his eyes, but Oliver had taken hold of his chin. He stared into two honest chestnut-coloured eyes.
"I don't want anyone else! I want you!" Oliver embraced him with his strong arms. "Why don't you understand, Perce? I think you are cool, pretty, funny and cute."
Oliver pressed his lips against Percy's.
"I'm in love with you, you dolt," he whispered. " I fell in love with you the moment I crashed into that window. I was a fool thinking only of quiddich in school, when I should have looked at you."
Percy couldn't help himself and leaned in closer. Oliver just held him tighter and kissed him even deeper.
“What do you say?” Oliver leaned his forehead against Percy’s.
“If you fix the kitchen, I’ll let you crash into me and say‘fwompp.”
“I knew you were a funny guy.”
Oliver threw a series of spells over his shoulder. There was a noise from inside the cottage. Percy turned to look and noticed the window was whole.
“I have crashed a couple of times before,” smirked Oliver. “You should see my house. I just wanted to come back here to see you.“
Percy blushed.
“fwompp"
The End.
