In A Time Of Uncertainty

Part One, Chapter Seven

Another boy might have stopped at that point and realized that the whole situation was growing more and more complicated by the minute. This other boy might have envisioned a friendship ended just as abruptly as it had begun, a silent roommate, whispers in the corridors, a teary and livid Penelope. Another boy might have reflected and seen that there was the slightest of chances for both Percy and Oliver to have what they wanted. But if there was one thing Oliver's Quidditch training had taught him, it was that rational thinking was no good in times of risk and daring. You either dove for the Quaffle or you hung back. If you never took the chance, you had nothing. If you left sensibility behind and did what your instinct told you to do, there was always the possibility of triumph. And right now Oliver's instinct was enjoying the feel of Percy's chest pressed against his back.

"Is your stomach any better?" he asked.

"A bit," came the nervous voice from behind.

"Well, we're almost there," said Oliver, pointing to the red roof of the Three Broomsticks. "You'll be safe on the ground in another minute, and after dinner we can walk back to school if you like. Except if you want to steer the broom - " He turned his head in time to see Percy blanch. "That was a joke, Perce."

"I know," said Percy, sounding as if he hadn't.

The Three Broomsticks was packed with customers; there were still hours left until sunset, when the dementors would roam the streets. Oliver and Percy got one of two remaining empty tables, back in a far corner.

"I'm paying," said Oliver as they sat down.

Percy's ears went red, and Oliver remembered (too late) that money was a sensitive subject with him. "You aren't," he said stiffly. "I insist upon - "

"I insist upon paying for guests, which you are, seeing as the whole thing was my idea. Besides, it's a rule in my family. You wouldn't want me to break a rule, would you?"

Percy scowled, and Oliver knew he had won.

"Oh hey," said Oliver, after the waitress had come and gone, "watch this." He lifted his hand and, in one swift gesture, put his little finger up over his fourth.

"I knew you could do it," said Percy, smiling a little. "I used to play the piano, and it's amazing how your fingers can twist if they need to."

"But you play the violin now," said Oliver, remembering their conversation in the common room.

"Yes, quite badly. When I was young, my mother used to insist that every member in the family had to play an instrument for at least one year. Bill and Charlie served their year and then quit, but I decided that I was going to learn how to play the piano. Every afternoon I would - am I boring you?"

"Not a bit," said Oliver. Percy could have been droning about eighteenth-century potion discoveries, and Oliver would have let him keep talking just to see that delicious mouth move. Not that he wasn't listening; as an only child, hearing about other people's siblings always intrigued him.

"Every afternoon, I would sit down at the piano and keep playing until my back hurt and my fingers felt sore. Eventually my mother made me quit because Ginny - she was around two years old at the time - started crying every time I played."

"That bad?" asked Oliver, impressed.

"Yes, it was quite horrible. The violin wasn't much better, but at least I could take it out into the garden."

"So you have a flaw after all," said Oliver, grinning. The minute the words left his mouth he knew they had been a mistake. Percy's face shifted into a hardened expression. "God, Percy, I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. I was trying to be teasing and I guess I wasn't."

"Oh, it isn't your fault," said Percy, sighing. "The rest of my family claims I was born without a sense of humor, and they're probably right."

"No, I'm sure they aren't," said Oliver, his voice firm. "It's probably just different than theirs." Percy didn't look convinced, but Oliver decided to let it pass. "Here, I'll make a deal with you. I'll stop teasing if you keep relaxing and not thinking about exams."

"All right," said Percy, and extended his hand. Oliver took it; it felt almost fragile in his own, and he squeezed only lightly. As soon as they let go, the waitress returned with fish and chips (Oliver's) and an enormous bowl of soup (Percy's), along with two bottles of butterbeer.

"So," said Percy, after a few spoonfuls of soup, "what did you do when you were young?" He was trying to make conversation, Oliver realized.

"Well, when I was really little, I basically ran around and drove my mum mad," he said. "Then when I was around six or so, a family moved in next door with triplets who were a year older than me."

"Triplets," said Percy, shuddering. "Twins are bad enough."

"They weren't much like Fred and George," said Oliver. "Paul was shy; he didn't play with us most of the time. Ian and Agnes, though, they were the wild ones. We used to pretend we were pirates - we built a little ship in their garden - and Ian always had to walk the plank because he was the skinniest and we could carry him there if he didn't want to."

"Oh, that was fair."

"Well, he wanted to most of the time."

Percy rolled his eyes and took a sip of butterbeer. "Well, we've found out another thing we have in common," he said. "When we were younger, both our mothers rejoiced when we left the house."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As they walked back along the road to Hogwarts (it was on the east side of the castle, and avoided both the forest and the lake), the sun was setting overhead. Whenever its light hit Percy's hair the right way, strands of gold appeared, highlights that were usually hidden in the relative darkness of the castle. Red and gold, Oliver thought. A true Gryffindor.

"Perce," he said suddenly, "what do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?"

"Go into the Ministry. My goal is to be Minister by the time I'm forty."

Oliver wasn't surprised.

"What do you want to do?" Percy asked. "No, don't answer, I'll guess. Play Quidditch."

"Yeah." Take the dive, he thought. "I've got a try-out with Puddlemere United scheduled already, for July. I'm nervous as hell, though."

"Don't be. You'll get on a team."

"I might not."

"You will. You're the sort of person who keeps going until you've done what you decided to do."

I hope so

, thought Oliver, his eyes resting on the gentle curve of Percy's neck.