Where We Begin

"Where We Begin"

by Elske

"It's like he saw inside of me, where I belong, what I could be, and in the flashing of the neon I could swear that he could see what's really there..." from the song 'At the Fountain' from the Broadway musical "Sweet Smell of Success"; lyrics by Craig Carnelia, music by Marvin Hamlisch

That morning, Percy Weasley lost his job at the Ministry of Magic. It was funny...he had always seen the Ministry as something glowing and perfect; a place where the people were different and better than those on the outside. The Ministry of Magic made the rules, and at the Ministry the rules would be better. The rules would be more real, they would mean more, not having been dissipated through the uncontrolled wide world. When he first was hired to work there, it felt as if he had found his place, gone to his heaven, the world created for Percy Weasley.

But quickly enough, the golden glow wore off. And, try as he did to remain blinded by the images he had dreamed of, Percy began noticing things. Like everything else that ever existed, the Ministry was so much less than he had imagined. When it came right down to it, the Ministry was full of corruption. It was the worse disappointment that Percy had ever faced in his entire life. Even worse than falling in love, Percy thought bitterly. It was a terrible lesson to learn, a terrible time to be getting an education in reality, at nineteen years old.

That morning, Percy Weasley lost his job at the Ministry of Magic. He had been wandering ever since, out of the part of the city he knew and into the crazed maze of streets of Muggle London. He just wandered, trying not to think of all the thoughts that were chasing themselves around in circles inside his brain and making his soul ache, as morning turned to afternoon turned to evening.

Night was different here, in the city, in the world of the Muggles. It was stranger, stronger, more poetic, Percy thought as he watched people disappear into darkened pubs lit with neon signs. He was anonymous here as he could never be in Wizarding London. It was tranquil and beautiful, somehow, despite the rush and the noise and the danger. He longed to lose himself in the crowds, to become someone different, to leave Percy Weasley behind. But of course, such things were impossible. And if they weren't, well, he knew he lacked the courage to do them.

He was reaching for his wand, ready to Apparate home, when a voice caused him to stop. A beautiful voice, a familiar voice, speaking two magical words - "Percy Weasley?" in incredulous tones.

It was a dream; it was a nightmare. "Hello Oliver." Percy said, casually, turning around. Oliver Wood. Percy would know him anywhere. People tend to remember those they've admired, adored, obsessed over, written bad poetry about in the dark hours of the night. His heart was pounding and his hands were fluttering, side effects of the adrenaline rush that always accompanied the mere thought of Oliver, never mind actual Oliver.

"Percy? What are you doing here?" Oliver asked, obviously quite shocked. Of all the places in the world one would expect to find Percy Weasley, this was not one of them.

"I don't know," he returned, smiling rather sheepishly. "I don't even know where here is. I...I was fired this morning, from the Ministry of Magic. I just...started wandering, I've been wandering ever since."

"Fired? From the Ministry?" It was another unthinkable thing to Oliver, who stood there for a long moment, blinking. "Whatever for?"

Percy could not lie to Oliver; Percy could never lie to Oliver, and perhaps this was part of the problem. "For finding out things I shouldn't have known; for knowing too much." He had been right in the center of the scandals surrounding Mr. Crouch and the Triwizard tournament, after all, was party to a thousand things that weren't even revealed to senior members of the Ministry. He was a liability, and so they got rid of him.

"That sounds...serious," Oliver replied.

"It is."

"Mmm," Oliver returned, fidgeting slightly, seeming either bored or anxious.

Percy couldn't quite tell which, but he knew that he was losing Oliver's attention. Needing to prolong the conversation, he said, almost desperately, "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"It has." Oliver looked surprised at that. "A little more than a year."

"How have you been?"

"Well. I'm playing Quidditch...reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United."

"Oh, yes. I heard that."

"An interesting job."

"I'd imagine."

Oliver sighed suddenly, turning his head, to look right at Percy. Percy lifted his head looking --up? How surprising. He had no idea that he was taller than Oliver was; he always pictured the other man as tall and strong. Larger than life, really. Knowing he really shouldn't, but not being able to help it, Percy let his eyes meet Oliver's. Percy would have been happy to stay like that forever, unblinking, in the middle of the street. However, that was not to be.

Oliver closed his eyes suddenly, shook his head. He looked as though he was on fire under the rosy glow of the neon lights. "How's Penelope?" he said quickly, in an almost nervous sounding voice.

"Penelope?" Percy echoed, surprised. "She's doing well. She graduated this year. She's working at a nightclub, singing..."

"In London?"

"Berlin, actually."

"Berlin?"

"Yes. She writes me sometimes...she meets all sorts of people there. She's engaged, I hear, to some American wizard. A writer." Percy shrugged neatly. Penelope was still a friend of his, despite the mediocre romance they had shared. Both were relieved when it ended, especially considering the circumstances surrounding the end of the relationship - it was of no fault of their own that it didn't work out between them the way it was supposed to. Penelope was the only one who knew Percy's truth - that she was of the wrong gender to ever be his true love.

"So...you're not still...?"

"No," Percy said, with a small smile. "We're not. Still friends, though."

"Ah." Oliver shook his head, a small smile playing across his face. The two stood for a long moment, saying nothing, together in the dark that was not really dark because of the neon glow. Finally, Oliver broke the silence. "Well, then. I...should be off. I'd offer to show you back to Diagon Alley, but you don't need me, you can Apparate home."

"Yes, I could."

"And so..." Oliver shook his head again, smiling to himself. "Well, farewell, then. Owl me sometime."

"I will," Percy replied, looking at Oliver, sadly...wistfully. It had been the worst day of his life, quickly turning to the best - because he got to see Oliver, to smell him, to hear his voice, to stare into his grey eyes under neon lights; all of these privileges just for managing to get himself lost in Muggle London. And now Oliver was walking away, walking back out of his life. And what was Percy to do about it? Nothing. He was not about to kill the one dream he had left, the dream of Oliver - not after having sufficiently killed the dream of Penelope and the dream of the Ministry. If he lost his dream of Oliver - what would he have left?

Oliver was walking away, had taken one step, and then another. He was walking slowly, almost reluctantly away. And...and he seemed shorter, somehow. Smaller, less sure of himself. He was, Percy realised, no longer glowing, no longer larger-than-life. He had been uncertain, he had been nervous. He had been human. He was only human.

"Oliver?" Percy called out, almost without really thinking about it.

The other man stopped, turned around, looked back at Percy with something like hope in his expression. "Yes?" He began to return to Percy's side.

"It...it's just that...I never expected to see you again," Percy told him, honestly. "And...well..."

"Yes?" Oliver breathed.

"It's just that..." He wasn't sure if he could go through with it, but he suddenly found himself saying it, in a whisper. "I love you. I always have, and...well..."

Oliver seemed startled, tense, as he looked at Percy for a long moment, meeting his eyes again. It seemed to Percy in that moment that Oliver was reading his thoughts, learning his soul, memorizing him. Finally, he smiled. "You do," he agreed, and reached forward, drawing Percy into his arms.