In A Time Of Uncertainty

Part Two, Chapter Seven

Oliver was sitting on the other end of the kitchen, a glass of milk in his hand. He smiled at Percy and Percy's eyes widened in surprise; it was the same sad, serene smile that Oliver had worn in his dream.

"I'm sorry things were uncomfortable yesterday," Oliver said softly. "There was more I wanted to say but didn't."

Percy found himself involuntarily twisting his fingers.

Oliver set down his glass. "I always saw so much potential in you," he said, his eyes resting on Percy's wringing hands. "You know what I miss? I miss the way it was toward the end of our seventh year in school, when I'd quiz you for exams and we'd talk about murder mysteries and then we'd go to dinner. I miss how relaxed I always felt with you; you never expected anything from me. And I expected too much."

Percy shook his head. "No, you didn't. It isn't too much to expect that a person respect you."

"Right there," said Oliver immediately. "That's who I miss. I miss the boy - man - who thought and felt and cared about other people. The month we were a couple - that wasn't you, Percy. That was - fear? Immaturity? I don't know. I miss you."

He rose from his seat and walked over to Percy, sitting down in the chair next to him. "Perce, I want us to be friends again."

Percy sighed. "It's all changed, Ol."

"I know. Perhaps for the better."

"I disowned my whole bloody family, Oliver! I treated them like absolute dirt. That's what I do to people I care about. Is that what you want? I am a selfish, insensitive, arrogant idiot who shamelessly flattered the Ministry, who acted like a stupid social climber WHILE MY FAMILY WAS FIGHTING AGAINST A DARK LORD!" His hands were shaking. The air in his lungs was creating a pressure in his chest that made him feel like he was going to explode.

"And you don't have to act like that anymore," said Oliver, his voice controlled but equally forceful. "You are in control of your life, and you don't have to act like that any more."

It was the look on Oliver's face that stopped Percy from launching into his next tirade. Oliver was angry, fuming, as angry as he had bee on that day two years ago when he'd hissed at Percy to get out. Now he wanted him to come back.

"I don't," whispered Percy, not sure if he had uttered a statement or a question.

"You don't."

Percy lowered his head; Oliver placed two fingers under his chin and lifted, the same thing he had done with Ian. Percy forced himself to meet the warm brown eyes.

"I missed you too," he said awkwardly, suddenly aware of just how alone they were.

Oliver's hand moved from Percy's chin to his back, gently rubbing in slow circles. "Hey," he said.

Percy could feel his body relax under Oliver's touch. "So," he asked, "How long have you been with Ian?"

"Four months last week," said Oliver, his hand leaving Percy's back. "Yeah, he's been my neighbor since forever, didn't know he was gay until just before he asked me out, though. Our mums thought it was just so cute, their little babies were dating." He made a nauseated face. "They're a bit scary, my mum and Mrs. McTavish. You can't tell one of them something without the other knowing in under twenty-four hours." He leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, and yawned. "Sorry, I was up late last night. Anyway," he continued, "Ian's sweet. Bit difficult, though, with him being a Muggle, there's so much I always have to explain to him."

Although Percy wasn't sure he wanted to hear any more about Ian, his curiosity got the better of him. "Is his family all right, about yours being wizards and everything?"

"Yeah, Mr. McTavish's best mate from when he was a kid is a wizard," said Oliver. "They figured it out the second they saw our owl." He yawned again. "So, are you with anyone?"

"No," said Percy. Not since you.

Stop being jealous of Ian, you prat.

"Oh. Suppose you're busy, with work and all." He took an enormous gulp of milk, draining the glass. "So, what do you do all day while everyone else is gone? Besides making biscuits."

Percy rolled his eyes. "My mum wants me to rest."
He got up from his chair and began to pace across the kitchen, from doorway to stove. "How in the hell does she expect me to sit around all day while the rest of the world is doing something? I don't rest. I can't rest. She must be mad."

"So don't stay here," said Oliver, his eyes following Percy back and forth.

Percy stopped. "And where do you suggest I go?"

Oliver shrugged. "Come with me."

"So I can be in the way? No thank you."

"You wouldn't - " Oliver's mouth froze. A brightly glazed look had come over his eyes, a look Percy remembered from just before Quidditch matches. "Perce," he said, his gaze steady, "when you're at work, do you have access to the International Personal Files?"

"I have access to everything Fudge needs," said Percy.

"Which would be just about the entire Ministry, right?"

"If Fudge - "

"Forget him for a minute. If you were in the Hall of International Personal Files, would anyone find it unusual?"

"I shouldn't think so. I've been there a few times before."

Oliver was beaming. "You, my man, have just solved about half my problems in less than one minute." He clapped Percy hard on the back. "You want something to do besides sit about the house all day?"

"Of course, but - "

"Let's apparate back to my flat, I can explain better there, plus Charlie can help me."

"Charlie...?"

But Oliver was gone, and Percy had no choice except to follow.

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

Percy's first perception upon arriving in flat 2A was of being in a particularly noisy party, one full of noise and confusion and people. As his eyes came into focus he realized that the gathering of people was actually quite small, though it was every bit as loud as he'd thought.

"This is still headquarters, Mundungus, even if it isn't Grimmauld Place!" shouted a small woman from Oliver's leather couch. "It is for the Order and the Order alone! Last time I checked, stolen broomstick polish had nothing to do with defeating You-Know-Who."

"Oh come on, Figgy, my flat - "

"You mean Ali Bashir's flat that you squat in - "

" - hasn't got any space left for these jars."

"Sorry, Dung, they'll have to go," said Oliver from across the room. "I could lose my job if someone found them here."

"Exactly!" exclaimed the small woman, jumping in her seat so violently that her tartan slippers flew off her feet.

"Don't see what your Mr. Tibbles has to do with the Order," muttered the man standing to her right. His head was covered with lank strands of ginger hair that fell just past his shoulders. He pointed with his thumb to a large furry brown blob at his feet.

"Oliver likes him," said the woman stubbornly.

Mundungus swore under his breath. "What I wouldn't give for the days when Sirius let me keep my cauldrons under the stairs - "

"Leave him out of this," said Charlie sharply. Percy hadn't noticed him before; he was sitting in a beige armchair, scowling at Mundungus.

Oliver cleared his throat. "We have company."

The three others craned their necks toward Percy, who was standing behind all of them next to the door.

"Hello," said Mundungus, his mouth spreading into a broken-toothed smile. "You'll be Percy. I like you already, whenever your mum was angry at you she'd lay off me."

"Behave yourself," said Oliver at once, though his tone was much less defensive than Charlie's had been.

Mundungus crossed his green-sleeved arms over his chest. "Fifty-eight years old and here I am being ordered about by - "

"All in favor of Mundungus leaving with his jars and coming back when he can contribute something, say aye," said the old woman tartly. She was answered by a two-man chorus.

"Ach, you're a second Molly, Figg. All right, I know when I'm not wanted." He stormed out the door and into the corridor, whispering fiercely under his breath.

"I wish he'd stop mumbling like that," said Charlie, examining the half-healed burn on his arm. "Reminds me of Kreacher, the little toerag."

"Sit down," said the old woman, looking at Percy and patting the seat next to her. He obeyed.

"This is Arabella Figg, Perce," said Oliver as the woman stuck out her bony hand.

"And you're to call me Mrs. Figg," she said in a no-nonsense voice that reminded Percy strongly of Professor McGonagall. "No one's allowed to call me Arabella unless they're over thirty-five."

Oliver sat down in the other beige armchair, next to Charlie. "All right, Percy, here's the proposition."

Mrs. Figg yawned and folded her hands across her lap.

"You are currently sitting in the Order's Recruitment Headquarters, otherwise known as my flat," began Oliver.

"Room's run out at regular headquarters," said Charlie. "We're supposed to get protection charms the day after tomorrow."

"Here's what we need you for," said Oliver. "We've got this massive list of potential members - acquaintances, co-workers, family, et cetera."

"Enormous thing," interjected Mrs. Figg, beckoning to Mr. Tibbles. "Eight scrolls of parchment. And I had to recopy the entire thing because Mundungus's handwriting looks like fwooper scratches."

"But we need some sort of source to confirm that the people on the list are really on our side," Oliver continued. "That's where the International Personal Files come in. You can get anyone's criminal record, family background, place of business, all sorts of things."

Mr. Tibbles jumped over Mrs. Figg and landed on Percy's lap, sniffing about experimentally.

"Fudge is on our side now," said Charlie. "He can arrange for you to be in the Hall if we ask him to."

Percy bit a nail. "How much time would this take?"

"Just about every waking minute you're not at work," said Oliver. "And you would have to go back to work. The identities of Order members are supposed to be a secret, and it'd look weird if you were in a guarded room in the Ministry for no reason."

"You realize my mum is going to barbecue you, Ol," said Charlie conversationally.

"Yeah, probably. But if there's one thing I know about Percy, it's that he goes mad if he doesn't work."

Mr. Tibbles nuzzled against Percy's hand until he surrendered and scratched the cat behind the ears. The loud purring became the only noise in the room.

"So?" said Oliver. "You'd be great, you know. And we need to build up the foreign branches - you used to work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. We could really use you."

It had been far too long since he'd heard those words.