Percy Weasley and the Gay Vampire Cult of Oliver Wood

"One needs something to believe in, something for which one can have whole-hearted enthusiasm. One needs to feel that one's life has meaning, that one is needed in this world."
-Hannah Senesh

    When the Ministry of Magic made the official announcement of the return of You-Know-Who, there were a great many remarkable reactions. The most disturbing of these was not the growing panic of the wizarding community at large, or even the quickness with which they re-recognized Harry Potter as their boy savior and candidate for sainthood. Rather, it was the strange milling about of many of the wizards and witches who had been key in the denial of His return. They became aimless, pale and withdrawn, and indeed, milled about Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley, or even the streets of London without purpose or explanation.

    Percy Weasley was one of these.

    "I've got nothing to believe in anymore," he said to the few people who stopped him, or tripped him, or bumped into him. "Nothing, you know. Can't go back. There's nothing for me."

    Mostly, the people he met simply let him pass, with a thump on the back or a pat on the head, or a good hard kick in the arse. He took no notice of those things, and kept walking.

    Sometimes, he was fairly sure he stopped to eat or drink or sleep, but he could never get a definite grasp on reality.

    Everything passed by, cracked and faded and beyond repair. He took to wandering the train station, because there was something comforting about the roar of the great metal creatures as they approached and departed. Come and go, he smiled, watching them, come and go.

    One day stood out to him, though he couldn't place it chronologically, couldn't tell which day it had been or if had been before today or before yesterday. He'd been sitting on a bench, head in his hands, humming to himself when a hand had gingerly rested on his shoulder.

    "Percy? Percy Weasley?" said a voice, and Percy knew him.

    "Oliver," he croaked.

    "Bloody hell, Percy, you look awful. Where've you been? You know people are mad to find you? Your mum and dad are beside themselves, and I think even the twins are worried now." Oliver dropped into a crouch in front of him, all solemn-eyed.

    It was entirely too much information for Percy, who managed a vague "What?".

    "Come on, man, look at me." Oliver pulled Percy's grimy hands from his face. "I've never seen you this dirty in your life. I don't think I've ever even seen you dirty at all. What's going on? Where have you been?"

    "I've been here," Percy said slowly. "I can't remember. It's blurred up."

    "Percy," Oliver said, just as slowly. "I want you to listen to me, all right? You have been missing for two and a half weeks. No one has been able to find you since the Ministry came out about You Know Who. Your family is going mad trying to locate you. People think you've been kidnapped by Death Eaters. You need to come with me. I'll get you something to eat." He wrinkled his nose. "I'll get you a bath, how does that sound?"

    It didn't make a difference to Percy, though he nodded and allowed Oliver to pull him off the bench and walk him places. Though he was later told that the trip was really only forty-five minutes, he was sure that he'd spent a month or so walking through London, taking regular Muggle buses, with Oliver Wood's arm tight around his shoulders. Those minutes stretched and warped when he thought about them, about the warm solid bulk at his side.

    There were other things that floated around in the space about that day.

    Elevators and doors and locks and Muggles that looked at him strangely and Oliver's hands, most of all.

    A flat that was vaguely comforting in its sparseness, in its crates as furniture, save an old couch and a metal and glass box.

    Having most of his clothing stripped off and being shoved gently into hot water. For a long time, he was sure that the hot water had swallowed several days as well.

    Percy did a lot of sleeping for the next couple days, Oliver told him later. Oliver's account of it all was so strange and different that what had been happening, so Percy made him retell it often. Apparently all Percy did was sleep and stare at the wall, until Oliver thought to turn on the telly, and then Percy stared at that during the times he wasn't asleep.

    It took, by both of their accounts, several days before Percy became even aware of simple things.    

    He became aware that Oliver was presenting food to him regularly, and that for the most part, he wasn't eating it. To his surprise, he found that the sad look in Oliver's eyes made him pick up his fork and eat most of his meals, most of the time.

    He became aware that Oliver was in contact with his family. "I've got him here, but he's in rough shape," he overheard him say to someone. "Wait a while before you talk to him, sir. He's just now started eating properly. I think he's taking this whole Ministry business hard."

    He became aware that the television in front of him for most of the day was filled with vapid trash. He did, however, rather like something American called "MTV". Most especially, he found he liked the "rock music". There was something inherently romantic about the rebellion involved.

    Upon saying so to Oliver, he was greeted with a stare of disbelief.

    "You want to be a rocker, do you?" Oliver kept laughing, so Percy scowled. "Oh, now, there's the look I remember from school. Bloody hell, Percy, you sure did take a shock. A year ago, or hell, a month ago, you would have perished the thought of being a rebel without a cause."

    "Maybe," said Percy, "it was the Establishment that was inhibiting my perception."

    "Who the sod is the establishment?"

    "The Establishment, Oliver, is comprised of those who wish, quite simply, to keep us down. They are also called, quite collectively, the Man."

    "The Man? Percy, did you hit your head at the train station?"

    Percy continued to scowl at him from the couch, and Oliver flopped down to join him, sweaty from Quidditch practice or something, Percy assumed. "I am perfectly fine. What you are witnessing is the evolution of my belief system. The Man wishes to keep us down."

    "I see. At least you sound more like yourself," Oliver said, grinning and spreading himself comfortably over the couch, one leg comfortably on Percy's skinny lap.

    Percy blinked at the invasion of space. "Excuse me?"

    "I said, you sound more like yourself." He seemed to be daring Percy to say something about the leg.

    So Percy didn't. It wasn't like it was hurting him. And it was rather friendly, which was something Percy didn't get a lot of. "You're dodging the issue, and that is that there is an Establishment that we must be struggling against."

    "But the Ministry owned up that He's back. What's there to struggle against?"

    Percy turned scarlet. "A lot, all right?"

    "Sorry, sore subject, I reckon. But why would you struggle against the Ministry? I thought you loved those bastards."

    He turned his burning face away for a moment. "It would appear I made a mistake. I participated in something I'm not proud of, Oliver."

    Oliver seemed to instantly regret the turn of conversation, and his hand was back on Percy's shoulder, this time rubbing tiny circles. "So you did, but all of us have done that before." Percy was silent. "Maybe it would be good for you to rebel a bit. I'll even help you, if that's what you want. But first, I've got to say something else you aren't going to want to be hearing."

    Percy looked back at him, and froze, with Oliver's hand on the back of his neck.

    "You've got to talk to your family, Perce. They miss you. Your parents are mad, I've told you."

    "I can't," he said simply. Oliver smiled at him, with his eyes dark, and Percy changed the subject. "Listen, I can't wear your pajamas forever. I need to going shopping tomorrow."

    "I'll go with you," Oliver said, still smiling, and before Percy could say anything else, he said, "because you never know when the Man might be out there, trying to keep you down."

    They went shopping on a Tuesday, or at least Percy was fairly sure it was a Tuesday.

    He'd specified before they left that he wasn't interested in new robes. He wanted Muggle clothes, and he wanted Muggle clothes like he'd seen on the telly. Lots of black, baggy pants, some strange materials that looked like netting, tight shirts, combat boots. He tried it all on and made Oliver give his opinion, which was surprisingly positive. In fact, Percy rather liked the fit of the new clothes better than his robes himself.

    The biggest change was the piercings. All of the singers on the MTV had them, Percy announced, and he'd have to get them too.

    "Oh, now I know you're bloody mad, because do you know how they give you piercings, Percy, they STICK THINGS IN YOU. Like NEEDLES. And then they hang things from the HOLES IN YOUR BODY."

    "Honestly, Oliver. I am a grown man now, and I can stand a little pain."

    "Now who's laughing," Oliver said glumly as he had to carry Percy out of the tiny rat's nest of a piercing parlor.

    "But LOOK, I am clearly anti-Establisment," Percy said, his new mesh shirt pulled halfway up his chest to show a pretty silver ring in his navel. "The Man hates piercings, I read about this in a magazine."

    "You read magazines?" said Oliver, shifting Percy's weight in his arms. When Percy tightened his grip unnecessarily, he said, "I mean, damn the Man!"

    Percy beamed as he was set down, barely registering the extra few seconds of contact between their bodies as Oliver slid him down. "Right on, Oliver! Damn the Man!"

    It wasn't long before Percy knew which day of the week it was every day, though Oliver's habits helped that along very nicely. It appeared that with the return of You Know Who, Quidditch was temporarily suspended, and while that made Oliver a bit moody sometimes, it meant that the two young men were able to fall into a stable routine.

    On Mondays, Thursdays, and Sundays, Oliver liked to watch something called football on the telly and eat Chinese food.

    Tuesday was his laundry day.

    Friday nights, he dragged Percy along to bars. Both Wizarding and Muggle.

    Friday nights were also the nights Percy acquired more and more piercings, usually when a bit tipsy. In his nose, his ears, his eyebrow, and one night, on his tongue. Oliver seemed very fond of that one, though Percy hadn't the faintest idea why.

    "Oh, it's just that it's very anti-Establishment, Perce. The Man hates tongue piercings."

    "Is it?" said Percy, impressed.

    "Very," grinned Oliver, and thumped him on the back.

    "So, listen," said Percy. "I've discovered that the Man hates several things that are important to youth culture today. Namely, drugs, sex, and rock n roll. As rebels in the fight against the Establishment, we need to capitalize on these things."

    "Percy, are you saying-"

    "I'm saying we need to acquire some drugs, some groupies, and some music. It cannot be that difficult. Ludo Bagman had several groupies at a time."

    Oliver shuddered. "All right, Perce, if that's what you want to do, we'll go find some. . .groupies."

    Percy gave him a brilliant smile from beneath the black eyeliner and lipstick. "Very good."

    The bar they were currently at was filled with writhing, sweaty, attractive bodies, Percy noted. Just pick some, and. . . .

    "Oliver," he said, "do you know how to go about this? I'm afraid I'm at a loss. Miss Clearwater. . .wasn't the type of girl that you find here." He left out that she was the extent of his experience. It was blatantly obvious anyway.

    To his surprise, Oliver blanched. "I, erm, I. . .haven't much experience with girls, either, Perce."

    "Well," said Percy above the roar, "just select a group and we will go over to them."

    If anything, Oliver looked more and more like he might be sick. "Right. How about them, over there?" He pointed to a small group of girls by the restroom doors.

    "Perfect. They are young enough to admire us, and hopefully, old enough not to get us thrown in jail." Percy took him by the arm and strode over, but stopped short. "Wait. We need an approach."

    Oliver looked like he might throw up, and then he took a deep breath, walked the rest of the way over, and slid an arm around one of the girls, saying something Percy couldn't quite catch. He couldn't hear it, but for some reason it made his blood boil. Seeing that little harlot snuggled up next to Oliver while he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, drugs-sex-and-rocknroll be damned -

    Then the girl pulled away and so did Oliver, who'd lost all color in his face. Percy was there in a second, as Oliver gasped, "GINNY WEASLEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!"

    She yelped. "Oliver, I'm sorry, but it's not my fault you didn't know me and it's okay, I forgive you and your hand on my, my arse. . ." Ginny trailed off as Oliver turned a myriad of colors.

    Before Percy could really help himself, he was over there too, because his little sister was in a BAR in a VINYL MINISKIRT. "VIRGINIA!" he bellowed. "VIRGINIA WEASLEY, WHAT WOULD MOTHER THINK?"

    Ginny looked at him and fainted dead away.

    "Really, Perce," said Oliver, as he lazily made tea, "she's being very understanding, considering that you haven't spoken to your family in nearly a year."

    "Mmmphmmmorg," said Percy, his face in his hands.

    "And you're not even the one who felt her up," he finished. "That was me, and she's been lovely to both of us, so you get that skinny arse of yours into the living room and talk to her!"

    Percy blushed under his make-up, and managed to stagger back into the living room and over to the couch before his legs gave out. Finding that he automatically crossed his legs and rested his hands calmly in his lap, the same position he'd always assumed when having a heart to heart with his younger siblings, he sighed. Then, when the sigh provoked no reaction but a raised eyebrow from his little sister, he told her in very eloquent and certain terms that he had come to grip with his identity as a member of the Underground, the Revolution, and an ex-member of the Establishment.

    Rather, he tried. "Er, Virgina. How are you?"

    She mimicked his posture. "It's Ginny, and I'm fine. I'd like it if you told me how you are."

    "I'm. . .fine, Ginny, I really am." Percy tried to smile encouragingly at her.

    She nodded, and then said, "You really have been here with Oliver the whole time? I mean, we just thought it was a cover story. The twins think you're running an underground office supply market."

    "I am now a part of the Underground movement," Percy said, with some pride. "I am a rebel. I am a punk. I fear nothing, yet everything fears me. It's quite lovely."

    "You fear nothing, then," she said speculatively.

    "Quite right."

    "All right. Then you'll come home for tea tomorrow."

    "I will not!" sputtered Percy.

    "Oliver's coming."

    "He's a traitorous flatmate," he said, and raised his voice. "A traitorous, treacherous flatmate!"

    "Up yours, Weasley!" rang the voice from the kitchen. "We're going to tea tomorrow, and you'd do well to lay out your best combat boots and fishnets!"

    Ginny broke into peals of laughter. "And how long have you two been married?"

    Percy scowled deeply. "I have been here for two months, Ginny. And we are most certainly not married. We are not even dating."

    Ginny's eyes went wide. "You want to date Oliver?"

    "NO! I. . .er. . .I didn't say that, did I?" Percy blushed furiously. "Why would you even think that?!"

    "Because. . .because! I have my reasons! You should have seen the two of you come into that bar! He had his arm around you!"

    "That's just the way Oliver is," said Percy defensively. "He does it a lot. To everyone."

    "I've NEVER seen him do it with anyone else," she said. "And he was gazing at you, which is pretty remarkable, considering you look like a gay vampire."

    Percy's blush darkened to a nice wine color. "You must have been tricked. By the colored lights and the disco ball."

    "I know you haven't been around much, Perce," she managed to bite off, looking stuck between anger and laughter. "But I've learned how to read boys in your absence. And Oliver Wood was gazing at my gay vampire brother."

    He pounded his fist on his knee. "I told you that I am a HARDCORE REBELLIOUS PUNK TEENAGER! ONE THAT LIKES WOMEN!"

    "Percy, you're practically twenty. You're living in an apartment with a mate from school, having good times and going clubbing on Friday nights. You're wearing glitter. Somehow, Oliver is wearing your glitter. Wake up and smell the subtext, Perce. Meet us at tea-time at the Burrow tomorrow. I'll see you there. I'm going to go see if my friends are still out." With that, Ginny was gone, leaving Percy to turn and gape at Oliver, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen, blushing very slightly.

    "Oh sweet holy fuck," said Percy, upon reaching the Burrow the next day. "I cannot go in."

    "You can too," said Oliver brightly, and he grabbed Percy's hand.

    "You're holding my hand," said Percy.

    "I'm aware. You'd run away if I didn't," said Oliver.

    "Oh," said Percy, and he was dragged through the doorway. He supposed, on seeing Ginny smirk at the two of them, that holding hands with Oliver did not help his case for heterosexuality.

    He stood still, gripping Oliver's hand, surveying each family member in turn. Bill and Charlie hadn't made it. Ginny sat nearest to where he stood, and she'd exchanged the vinyl for a sundress and that knowing smile. Ron had been in the middle of buttering something, and his knife clattered to the table, his mouth wide open. The twins turned as one to look at him, affecting the same expression as their little brother. His mother shrieked and dropped her cup, and his father simply stared.

    "Hello all," said Percy.

    "Hullo!" said Ginny. "Tea?"

    It appeared the whole of the Weasleys' ideas of reconciliation had vanished in favor of simply staring at Percy, and looking mildly abashed whenever Oliver glared at one of them. Not until six entire minutes had passed did anyone besides Ginny speak.

    During minute seven, Molly Weasley shakily picked up her cup, and said, "That's quite the new look, Percy."

    "F-fetching," stammered Fred.

    "L-love it," stuttered George.

    "GINNY WAS RIGHT!" yelled Ron, standing. "You've turned into some sort of gay vampire!"

    "Now, now, Ron," said Oliver, "Perce is just going through some changes and- -"

    "Bloody HELL!" said Ron. "PERCY'S JOINED OLIVER WOOD'S GAY VAMPIRE CULT!"

    Percy made a sort of strangled noise. So did his parents.

    "OI!" answered Oliver, starting to fill with rage. "TAKE THAT BACK!"

    "GIVE US BACK PERCY FIRST!'

    "HE CAN LEAVE WHENEVER HE WANTS!"

    "Do you want me to leave?" said Percy, starting to panic. "Oliver, I've got nowhere to go!"

    "You can stay here, Percy," said his mother sadly. "But I don't think we'll be able to support you in the lifestyle you've grown accustomed to. After all, we don't drink blood."

    "NEITHER DOES PERCY!" bellowed Oliver.

    "RIGHT, ONLY WHEN YOU ISSUE YOUR DARK COMMANDS, NOSFERATO!"

    "That's Nostferatu, Ron," said Ginny helpfully.

    "Are you wearing glitter, Percy?" asked Arthur Weasley.

    "He IS!" crowed the twins.

    "I'LL SHOW YOU A DARK COMMAND RIGHT UP YOUR ARSE!"

    "ENOUGH!" shouted Percy, and he picked up the sugar bowl and threw it against the wall. "All of you except Mother and Father get out of this room right NOW! Oliver, wait outside, please. AND IF ANY OF YOU TOUCH HIM I WILL HEX YOU." Piercings glinting in the afternoon light, Percy looked very much like he would do worse.

    The Weasley siblings skittered off to different corners of the house as directed, and when Oliver had stepped outside, Percy turned darkly to his parents.

    They stood in silence for a moment, until finally, his mother said, "Percy, sweetheart, are you all right?"

    "Why wouldn't I be?" It was a lovely, ironic, bitter line that Percy adored.

    "Because," said his father, "you've lost everything you believe in."

    "What?" said Percy.

    "Son, it happens to all of us at some point or another. Now that the Ministry's owned up to You Know Who being back, the staff has been mostly deranged."

    His mother cut in. "So we understand you wanting to replace the Ministry with this. . .this homosexual vampirism."

    "I am not! The Ministry was wrong, but I've turned against it! It's the Establishment! The Man! I have not become a gay vampire, I have become a danger to society!"

    "Percy, you can be both, you know," said Molly.

    "But I'm not! I'm not a vampire, and I'm not gay! I'm a rebel! I'm a punk! Maybe, just maybe I'm a Goth! But I draw the line there, you see?"

    Molly burst into tears. "I don't care if you want to be a vampire, or if you live with Oliver, I just want my son back!" She tried to hide her face in her hands.

    Arthur rubbed tiny circles on her back. "Now, now, Molly." He turned to Percy. "Son, we're willing to accept this new lifestyle. We just want you safe and loved. It doesn't matter by whom."

    Percy made the strangled noise again. Then, he turned and fled the house.

    He barreled straight into Oliver's chest. Oliver caught him by the arms, and pushed him back a bit to look at him.

    "Perce, are you okay? Did you have a row with your parents again?" Oliver was looking at him with such concern, such warm, solemn eyes. Percy clung to him a moment. "Percy, you're getting eyeliner on me. . .it's fine, but you look really upset. We should talk about it."

    "I'm confused," Percy finally managed to say. "I don't know where to go, or what to do, or what to believe, or-- " and his voice cracked, "who to love anymore." Oliver was so warm. . . .

    "Want to hear what I believe, then, Perce?" said Oliver, wrapping his arms a little awkwardly around Percy. "I believe that maybe we shouldn't pay to much attention to rules, and we shouldn't pay too much attention to rebelling against the rules, and that instead, we should pay more attention to the people we care about. How's that sound?"

    "Fine," choked Percy into the hollow of Oliver's neck.

    "Good, then look at me."

    He did.

    "Want to hear the conclusion that follows all that?"

    Percy shook his head. He had a good idea.

    Now Oliver's voice was the shaky one. "I'm going to tell you anyway, Percy, because I think you need to hear it. The conclusion is that I should keep doing what I've been doing, and that's caring about you. And it's that if you care about me, you should, well, do that."

    "I -- "

    Oliver kissed him, swiftly, as warmly and solemnly as he'd done everything else, one arm strong around Percy's waist and one hand resting on the back of Percy's neck. For a moment, Percy melted, opened, and then his eyes snapped wide, and he shoved Oliver away.

    He opened his mouth to say no, but Oliver backed away, looking as if he might be bleeding internally, and was gone.

    Percy walked a few feet, and then sat down in the grass. His parents trailed out into the yard, and he barely noticed when they embraced him as he cried, both his mother and his father rubbing his back and petting his head and telling him it would be all right.

    They agreed Percy would live at home until he found his own flat.

    Ron eventually stopped leaving the books on curing vampirism outside his bedroom door.

    The twins stole his make-up and got their tongues pierced, and made their mother stammer.

    Ginny eventually stopped leaving the books on coming out and gay wizarding life outside his bedroom door.

    He didn't see Oliver for a month.

    Harry Potter came to stay with them, and was surly and wanted his tongue pierced as well. He read all Percy's pamphlets on damning the Man, and drove Percy batty with questions about the Establishment. Percy found a picture of Draco Malfoy with hearts all over the back of it, and was able to successfully blackmail Harry for a month.

    "I'm not GAY!" yelled Harry, and Percy said, "Well, why not?"

    Neither of them could come up with a satisfactory answer. Especially as it soon appeared that being attracted to men was really one of the pros of being gay.

    Ginny began to cut out pictures of Oliver Wood from the sports section of the Prophet, and pasted them to Percy's door.

    Harry began to steal the pictures and keep them beneath his pillow.

    One day, Percy took them all back. He also stopped dying his hair black.

    Ron came home with his nose pierced not too long after. It was more fetching than anyone had expected.

    Harry made tiny paper dolls of Draco Malfoy, and carried them off to the garden.

    Percy found that he cared for them all, even when they used his toothbrush and made kissy faces at Oliver's pictures and asked what blood tasted like. He tossed out the pamphlets and his glitter, much to Harry and Ginny's dismay.

    Eventually, Percy found himself at the train station.

    Oliver sat on a bench, his head in his hands, giving off an air of exhaustion.

    "You look awful," said Percy.

    "Percy?" said Oliver, without looking up.

    Percy crouched in front of him. "I thought I might find you here. It's kind of an anniversary for us, isn't it?" When Oliver finally looked at him, his eyes looked nothing but tired. "Listen, Oliver, I've come around to a new way of thinking. A new system of beliefs, you might call it."

    "Did you," said Oliver.

    "Well, I thought at one point that the Ministry was the best thing in the world, and I believed they were always right and that they would never let me down. Then, they did. So I took to believing they were wrong. I believed a lot of crazy things then. Then, it turned out that got me nowhere either."

    "Are you taking this anywhere?"

    "Yes. Point is, Oliver, I've come to believe that the only important thing to believe in is loving people. Loving the important ones in your life. I think instead of believing in abstracts, I'll just try to believe in you, all right?"

    Oliver closed his eyes, looking for all the world as if receiving a benediction.

    Percy pulled him off the bench and kissed him soundly, and when they finally tumbled backwards onto the floor of the station, and Oliver opened his eyes, they fairly glowed all warm and solemn like Percy had missed so badly.

    "So, you gave up the good fight, Perce?"

    "Yes. It was time. They'll receive another freedom fighter, I'm sure."

    "Got rid of the make-up and the piercings?"

    "Not all of them."

    "No?"

    Percy kissed him again. It was a lovely thing, kissing Oliver. Better than MTV and the Ministry put together. Even better when he had hands up his shirt.

    "Oh, so you kept that one. I always did like it. It might come in handy when you're in my gay vampire cult." He caught Percy's chin with his fingers. "You know that doing this, people are going to talk, right? I'm in the spotlight, you've been too, a bit. You may as well join a gay vampire cult."

    "My family will be so proud."

    "Hey," said Oliver, dropping a light kiss on Percy's mouth. "I heard they already are."