Unintended

Oliver Wood was enjoying the sun, like everyone else on a particularly pleasant summer day in London. He had just returned a couple nights ago from Paris, where he had played a match against their Quidditch team. They had won, three hundred seventy to two hundred forty. Now the team was back in London for a week before they were going off to play a team in Egypt.

As he walked among all the people in the street, noticing that he was much tanner than everyone else. The team had been travelling all summer and had seen quite a bit of sunshine. He continued to stroll along, his stomach rumbling with hunger. He'd spent the whole morning roaming around London, visiting his old haunts, with only a cup of weak coffee for breakfast. He was just wondering what he should eat for lunch when he accidentally walked right into a man stepping out of a building with a briefcase in his hand. The man stumbled, and Oliver grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

"Watch where you're going!" said the man irritably.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't see you," he apologized. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm--Oliver?"

Oliver took a closer look at the stranger: pale freckled face, red hair, and brilliantly blue eyes behind a pair of thin, wire-framed glasses.

"Percy Weasley," he said, shaking hands. "This is certainly a surprise."

"I'd have to say the same to you," said Percy, as they moved to the side so they weren't blocking the sidewalk. "I thought you were travelling the world."

"I am," he replied. "But the team's back in London for the week, and then we're going off to Egypt. But really, enough about me. You probably already know everything from reading the newspapers."

He laughed, and Percy joined in.

"Well, you know, I've been busy with work at the Ministry," said Percy, who was the Minister of Magic's Senior Assistant. "It's not too interesting."

"Oh, come on, Perce, assistant to the Minster? I'd call that interesting," said Oliver, putting his arm around Percy's shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "I'm just about to get lunch. Want to come with me?"

"Same here," said Percy. "What do you want to eat?"

"Anything," replied Oliver. "I'm starved."

Chatting the whole way, they made their way to a nearby deli, where they bought sandwiches.

"So, you married yet?" asked Oliver, chewing on a pickle.

"No, not married. I read that you were getting engaged," said Percy.

"Nah, nothing of the sort. That was just a rumour put out by an angry reporter. I had her banned from my games after she followed me into the locker room and tried to get pictures of me."

"That's horrible," said Percy, stirring his coffee.

"I'm used to it," said Oliver nonchalantly. "Reporters are nosy people, and I just happen to be one of the people they're interested in." Oliver was currently ranked amongst the top ten Quidditch players in Britain, a status that he had worked hard to earn and worked even harder to keep.

They began to talk more about Quidditch until a sharp dinging noise from Percy's watch interrupted them.

"Sorry, that's my alarm," he said, switching it off. "I've got a meeting with the Minister in twenty minutes. I should probably get back."

"No problem," said Oliver, waving over the waitress. "You go ahead. Lunch is on me."

"No, really, Oliver. It's fine," protested Percy.

"I've got it," said Oliver, handing the waitress a few bills. "Don't worry about it. Say, why don't we meet for drinks tonight? I don't have anything else to do."

"Sure," agreed Percy, "that sounds great. Where do you want to meet?"

"Well, I saw this place called Eclipse while I was walking around this morning. Looked pretty nice."

"Alright," said Percy. "What time should I meet you there?"

"If it's not too late for you, how about ten?" he suggested.

"It's a Friday night. I can indulge myself a bit," said Percy, smiling. They said their goodbyes and went separate ways. But the entire way back to his hotel, Oliver could not help thinking about Percy.

He collapsed onto the hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling. Did he actually feel attracted to Percy? Indeed, he was still trim like before, but he had lost the overwhelmingly nerdy demeanor, though if you paid close enough attention, it peeked out from underneath his carefully selected words. But there was something else about him, something that Oliver couldn't place. Deciding not to overtax his brain worrying about something so trivial, he rolled onto his side and fell asleep.

------------------------

By the time Oliver awoke, it was seven thirty in the evening. He yawned and called room service, ordering filet mignon and a slice of cherry pie. He knew that it was probably not a good idea to overeat and gain weight before the match, but like Percy had said, he could indulge a little. He ate at a leisurely pace, with the television tuned to the evening news. The report gave the grisly details of a recent murder, cautioning the public that the killer had not yet been caught and was armed and extremely dangerous.

Tired of hearing about depressing news, he turned the television off and stood up to rummage in his suitcase. He found his swim trunks and went to the hotel's pool for a refreshing swim. He came back, showered, and then stood staring at the pile of clothing he had brought, trying to figure out what he was going to wear.

After digging out every single item of clothing, he realized that he had absolutely nothing appropriate to wear to meet Percy at the bar. He had brought mostly some faded jeans, a pair of khaki pants that were missing a button, and about half a dozen t-shirts, which he wore interchangeably. Though he earned substantial sum each year, he had never really spent much of it on clothing. He just wore whatever was comfortable, unless he was asked to be interviewed for a talk show or photographed for some magazine ad. There was once a time where he had yearned for expensive clothing, but once he had acquired it, discovered that it was mostly stiff and uncomfortable and went back to his old style of dress.

Now, for whatever inexplicable reason, he felt self-conscious and wanted to impress Percy. No, that wasn't right. Not impress him, but at least gain his approval. Percy had always dressed nicely, often sporting crisply ironed shirts, argyle patterned vests, and nice slacks.

After some deliberation, Oliver threw on jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his wallet, and went out to hail a taxi. He asked the driver to drop him off at whatever men's clothing store was nearest, and went inside.

After enlisting the help of several salespeople who fawned over him and rushed to grab clothes from the racks, suggesting that he try them on, he finally purchased an outfit. Dressed in his new stylishly crinkled button down shirt, nice jeans, leather belt, and Italian leather shoes, he thanked the salespeople, signed autographs and left, dumping his old clothes in the trash.

It was a quarter to ten, and knowing that Percy valued punctuality, Oliver hailed a cab. He arrived at the bar, which was still fairly empty because of the hour, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Percy had not yet arrived. Then he waved the bartender over and ordered a beer for himself. Minutes later, Percy came in and spotted him.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized.

"I'm sorry that I was early," laughed Oliver. "I'm never early. On time at best."

"I remember you were usually the last one to burst into the classroom," said Percy, chuckling. They had been in Advanced Transfiguration together, though they had not really talked very much. It was odd that they were like this now, chatting like a couple of old friends, but perhaps it was because they hadn't seen each other for years.

"Another beer please," said Oliver to the bartender, then turning back to Percy. "McGonagall got so sick of it that one day she turned me into a billy goat. It actually wasn't so bad. That girl that I'd liked back then, Morgan Fyste, she kept petting me." He grinned. "Though I can't say I wasn't glad to be human again at the end of the lesson."

"You never were late again after that," said Percy, and they both burst into peals of laughter.

Oliver ordered another round of drinks, and the bar began filling up, creating a comfortable buzz of voices.

"I'll have another," slurred Oliver, after his fourth or fifth drink.

"I think you've had enough, Oliver," said Percy, who was also feeling quite drunk. He had never really acquired a taste for alcoholic drinks, except for the occasional glass of wine with dinner.

"Jus' one more," said Oliver, and the bartender brought him and Percy another. Oliver raised his glass. "To old times! To billy goats!"

They clinked glasses, and while Oliver drained half the glass in one gulp, Percy only took a small sip.

"Wha's the matter, Perce?" said Oliver, noticing Percy's mostly full glass. "Why aren't you drinking up?"

"I think I've already had enough," said Percy.

"Ah, one more won't hurt...drink up, drink up..."

At Oliver's urging, Percy finished half the glass and then declared that it was really time for them to go. He managed to get Oliver out of the bar and hail a taxi.

"Oliver, where are you staying?" he asked, but Oliver had already fallen asleep. Left with no other choice, Percy gave the driver directions to his apartment.

He somehow half-dragged, half-lifted Oliver out, even though the man was considerably taller and heavier than he was. They managed to get into the lift and into Percy's apartment, where he laid Oliver on the couch with a wastebasket by his head just in case.

"Oliver?" he said, shaking his shoulder. "Oliver, can you hear me?"

He didn't respond, so Percy splashed his face with a glass of cold water. Oliver sputtered awake.

"Eh?" he said, sitting up. "Where'm I?"

"I took you back to my apartment because you were too drunk to tell me what hotel you were staying at," said Percy, brewing coffee now.

"Thanks, Perce," said Oliver, falling back onto the couch.

"Here, drink this," said Percy, holding the cup of coffee to Oliver's lips and trying to pour a bit into his mouth.

"Ow, hot!" Oliver jerked and caused Percy to spill the coffee all over both of them and the couch. Sighing, Percy cleaned up the mess and removed Oliver's coffee soaked clothes and threw them in the sink. He would wash them in the morning. He rummaged in his closet and found an extra floppy t-shirt that he sometimes slept in, and pulled it over Oliver's head. All of his pyjama pants were too small for Oliver, so he just left him in his own boxers, which he tried hard not to notice were covered with little squirrels. He found some spare blankets, covered him, and went to bed, dizzy from drinking.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Percy awoke with the strange feeling that someone was standing over him. He switched on the light and saw Oliver there in his boxers, his eyes half shut.

"Turn it off," groaned Oliver, shielding his eyes from the sudden light.

"What are you doing?" said Percy, checking the clock on the nightstand. "It's three in the morning. Go back to sleep."

"I can't," said Oliver. "I'm scared."

Scared? He could think of nothing that could be possibly more absurd.

"Scared of what?"

"Things," said Oliver vaguely. He shivered. "Can I come sleep with you?"

"Fine," said Percy, lifting the covers on the other side of the bed for Oliver to get in. He assumed that all of this was the result of Oliver being drunk, and he wasn't about to argue with someone who was clearly not in his right mind at the moment. "But you'd better not vomit in my bed."

Oliver got in and Percy turned out the light.

A few minutes later, Oliver whispered, "Percy? Are you awake?"

"Yes," said Percy irritably. "And I will continue to be if you don't shut up and go to sleep right now."

"Percy?"

"What do you want, Oliver?"

"I have to tell you something," he mumbled. "It's really important."

"Well hurry and tell me so we can both get to sleep."

There was a slight pause, and then Oliver said, "I love you."

Percy stiffened at the words. Was this just the alcohol talking? "Don't be stupid," he replied. "You're dreaming, okay?"

"I see you in my dreams, all the time," murmured Oliver, rolling over so that Percy could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He inched away towards the edge of the bed. This only prompted Oliver to scoot closer.

Percy quickly turned towards him, now angry. "Oliver, will you quit that? This really isn't funny. I swear, if you say another word, I'm going to kick you out of my apartment. I'm serious."

"You were always so serious, Perce," said Oliver. Now their faces were only inches apart. "I want to kiss you."

"You're mental," said Percy, but before he knew what was happening, Oliver had snaked a strong, tanned arm around his waist, pulling him close. He could smell the beer on his breath. "Oliver, let go of me right now, or I will jinx you."

He tried to reach behind him to grab the wand resting on the nightstand, but it was too far away. And Oliver was too close, much too close. Percy opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced when Oliver's lips met his. He tensed, struggling to get away, but Oliver was too strong for him. Eventually, he just fell back onto his pillow and waited for it to be over. Sure enough, moments later, Oliver mumbled something and then rolled back to his own side of the bed, snoring loudly.

Though puzzled and disturbed by Oliver's exceedingly strange behavior, he was too tired to think about it anymore and drifted off to sleep himself.