To Be Alive

To Be Alive

When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability...

To be alive is to be vulnerable.

(Madeleine L'Engle)

Oliver was on his way home when a silvery shape stopped him in his tracks. He knew he shouldn't be walking around alone, even if it was a short walk - no one took walks any more, not alone anyway. The silver chimpanzee impatiently cleared its throat and rolled its eyes in exasperation when Oliver glared at it. Trust the twins to play some sort of stupid joke on him and scare the hell out of him!

"Get your sorry arse over to Hogsmeade, mate. Go see Ab; he'll fill you in. Apparate directly to the Hog's Head. Not a joke, Oliver, it's happening tonight!"

The twins rarely called him Oliver, usually preferring some sort of nickname. And even they would know better than to joke about that. Oliver felt his stomach tighten unpleasantly. Thus far he'd managed to stay clear of any trouble. After Quidditch had been suspended for the foreseeable future, he'd gone back home to Scotland. Things were quiet there. If it weren't for the news, one could almost believe there was no war at all. For the last couple of months, he'd tried not to think about the danger some of his friends were in: Fred, George and Lee with their radio station, always on the run. The students at Hogwarts were apparently having a hard time as well, and no one had heard from Harry, Ron and Hermione ... Oliver didn't think he was a coward, but he wished that some miracle would occur and they could all go back to normal. Many times he simply wanted to forget about it all. But the appearance of Fred's Patronus made it obvious that he'd have no such luck.

Oliver Apparated to the Hog's Head. He was taken aback when he saw just how many people were crammed into the run-down bar. Aberforth was impatiently ushering people up a narrow staircase. 'So, this is it, this is really it,' Oliver thought, and took a deep, if somewhat shaky breath.

"Olli, you coming?" Angelina urged.

"Yeah, coming."

Somehow, the whole thing felt strangely similar to a Quidditch match against an unknown opponent. Oliver imagined he was wearing his gear, clutching his broom. Only this was not a game. And as passionate as he was about his sport, it was just that: a game. This most certainly wasn't.

+~+~+

Oliver and Percy had become friends in school once they realised that they were both more ambitious than the rest of their year. Granted, it was Quidditch for Oliver and academia for Percy, but they understood each other, both feeling the need to keep going and the urge to push themselves harder. They also shared the desperate wish to prove themselves, and they had: Oliver became an excellent Quidditch player, while Percy had one of the best school records ever seen in Hogwarts. Things changed after they left school. While Oliver had the feeling that he'd come into his own, Percy just kept pushing, trying to get higher, further and farther away. Percy worked long hours, taking on more projects, until being on call for the Ministry became more important than seeing an old friend, more important than family even.

Oliver hadn't seen Percy since the Quidditch World Cup. There had been times when he'd missed his company. He'd wanted to see Percy again, but this was not how he had envisioned the meeting. Oliver hadn't seen Percy arrive at Hogwarts, hadn't known that he, too, had taken part in the Battle, that he had fought on their side. The first time he saw him was afterwards in the Great Hall, sitting a couple of feet away from his family who were gathered in a corner.

He was uncertain how to approach Percy. The fact that the Weasleys were assembled at that end of the Great Hall did not bode well. Oliver hesitated. Maybe it was best to talk to Percy later, catch him when he was alone. Oliver turned to leave when Percy looked up. They caught each other's eye, and Oliver wasn't quite sure how to read Percy's expression; it seemed to say 'I'm so glad to see you!' and 'Go away!' at the same time. Oliver mouthed, "Later?" which was answered with an almost imperceivable nod from Percy. He hoped that Percy understood his silently offered condolences.

+~+~+

"What's that?"

"Muggle thing. Pez. Have a taste, they're quite good." Oliver made Percy hold out his hand, flicked back the top of the odd plastic container - a monkey's head - and a small white square dropped onto Percy's hand.

"What are you doing with Muggle sweets?"

"Steve left them. He loved the stuff, said it reminded him of his childhood. He had a whole shelf full of the things."

Percy didn't ask who Steve was; if anything, he seemed amused that someone would collect monkey-headed plastic dispensers. Then Oliver remembered Percy telling him that his father collected batteries and plugs.

Oliver continued, "Must say I grew a bit addicted to the stuff. There was just no getting around the bloody things while Steve was still living with me."

They were silent for a while, a silence that fluctuated between comfortable and awkward. From their vantage point up on the roof, Oliver looked out over the Hogwarts grounds, still scarred from the recent battle, but somehow calming in its own way. In the evenings, when the rebuilding efforts had ceased for the day, it was quiet, and yes, peaceful. One battle, even with all the trauma that it had caused - affecting both of them and still very visible on the grounds below them - was not enough to change the fact that this had been and still was their home away from home.

Both Percy and Oliver had stayed after the Battle. Oliver didn't feel it was right to just go back home as if nothing happened. He guessed Percy didn't have anything to go back to. No more Ministry. Once again he was on speaking terms with his family, but he didn't seek out their company. Too much guilt, Oliver supposed. Not that he was complaining; he was glad to have Percy with him at Hogwarts, it felt right somehow. They had taken to meeting on roof after their work for the day was done. They would sometimes talk, sometimes just sit in companionable silence. There was comfort in being with an old friend.

When Percy took hold of Oliver's hand, the memories came back in a rush: sloppy, hurried kisses behind the greenhouses, in the change rooms; brushing against each other in corridors that were wide enough for two people to easily pass each other. Then trying to make sense of it, stuttered, uncomfortable conversations, trying to figure out where the whole thing was going to lead. Then there was Penelope, and the inevitable fight that followed.

Oliver gave Percy's hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. "I'm sorry, Percy." Sorry for what, he didn't say. Truth be told, he wasn't sure himself what he meant. Was the apology for Fred's death, their drifting apart after school, their drifting towards each other at school, or all of the above?

"Don't be. We didn't know what we were doing, did we?" Percy smiled, having chosen his own interpretation. It was a very Percy-esque smile, tight-lipped and barely visible, unless you knew how to read Percy. Which Oliver did.

Oliver bit back his comment that he had known exactly what he was doing. This was not the time to discuss the feelings he'd had when they'd been younger. A schoolboy crush, that was what Percy had called it. Oliver simply nodded, and silence once again descended over the pair.

Percy grew restless. He wrung his hands and then pushed his glasses back up into position. "You know, I always blamed my family for what happened. We were poor, my dad had a shitty job at the Ministry. You know how people used to mock me for it. I always thought it was worse when they were making fun of Ron and Ginny. The twins -" He broke off.

"Hey ..." Oliver clumsily patted Percy's shoulder. Percy hadn't spoken about Fred's death, in fact he'd strictly avoided the topic since they'd been meeting after the Battle.

Percy cleared his throat and shrugged off Oliver's hand. "I'm fine, I'm sorry."

"Percy." When Percy kept staring straight ahead, furiously blinking away his tears, Oliver repeated, "Perce, don't be daft. It's okay, it's me, Oliver. You don't have to pretend that everything's all right."

"I'm not. Look, I don't want to talk about it. Tell me about Steven."

Merlin, Percy could be so infuriating. "Come with me!"

"What?"

"Come on, get up," Oliver sternly insisted. He was already on his feet and grabbed Percy's hand. Oliver took the lead and, dragging Percy behind him, made his way down to the seventh floor.

He could feel Percy starting to resist as soon as he realised where they were going, but Oliver refused to relent. He kept pulling Percy along until they reached the destroyed section close to where the Room of Requirement had been - no one had been able to enter it again after the fire.

When the rubble came into view, Percy stopped dead, surprisingly strong in his refusal to move even an inch further. Oliver turned around but didn't let go of Percy's hand.

"Percy, you can keep running away forever!"

"Well, I don't think a couple of days count as forever, now do they? Let me go, Oliver."

"Percy, please. You know what I mean. You keep running, trying to get away. Well, guess what, you can't get away from yourself, ever."

"And when did you become a psychologist?" Percy spat.

"I'm only trying to help!" This was not going at all as Oliver had planned. He'd expected Percy to come with him, albeit reluctantly, but he was putting up a fair fight.

"You are not helping. I just want to get my life back in order. I don't need you reminding me of what happened. I know exactly what happened. In fact, I can't get any of it out of my damn head for even one second! Let go of me, Oliver!" Percy pulled his hand out of Oliver's grasp and left him standing amid the destruction.

Oliver groaned. That certainly hadn't gone according to his plan. What had he really expected, though? He wasn't sure any more. A reaction, yes. Well, he had received a reaction all right: Percy was gone. He'd pushed him away with his stupid attempt at shock therapy. He'd have to find him and apologise, if Percy let him.

Before he left, Oliver warily looked up and down the corridor. Blocks of stone were strewn across the whole length of it. The gaping hole in the solid stone wall let in an eerie cold breeze that whispered past him. Oliver shivered.

The castle was quiet, creepily so. Oliver checked their old room in Gryffindor Tower, but Percy wasn't there. He had a similar lack of luck in the library. Oliver cursed at himself for letting Percy leave when he heard noises coming from the Prefect's bathroom. He broke into a run and burst into the bathroom, no longer password-protected - there was no need for that any more.

Percy was standing in the showers, fully clothed, water beating down on him. He was facing half away from view, his right shoulder and head leaning against the tiles.

"Perce?" Oliver ventured carefully. Percy didn't answer. He lifted his head up, then let it drop back against the wall with a loud crack.

"Percy!" Oliver cried. He ran forward, almost sliding on the wet floor. He pulled Percy away from under the shower, away from the wall. The two of them slipped and fell, leaving Oliver winded as he broke Percy's fall.

He didn't let go of him, though, and cradled his head against his chest. "You stupid, stupid idiot! Why did you do that? Oh Merlin, Percy ..." Oliver continued to whisper into Percy's hair, feeling him shiver and shake in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you go there." Oliver ran his fingers through Percy's hair and along his back. He drew soothing little circles on Percy's lower back. Oliver didn't really know what to do, so he just held Percy in silent comfort.

He was surprised to feel Percy responding to his touches by moving closer and stroking his chest. Percy's touch was welcome - Oliver had never realised how much he'd missed the feel of Percy's fingers, but this was not the right time.

"Perce, don't. Let's get you up and dried off, okay?" He pushed Percy up off his chest and got to his feet, pulling Percy up with him.

Percy's eyes were red-rimmed behind his glasses. He looked lost and more vulnerable than Oliver had ever seen him. It was as though he'd finally allowed himself to actually feel the years of frustration, anger and fear that he'd kept bottled up. Oliver felt a surge of protection and reached out to brush the tears off Percy's face.

And then, none of it mattered any more. There was no grief or pain, no Hogwarts, no dead brother - just the two of them, Percy and Oliver. Percy grabbed two handfuls of Oliver's shirt and pulled him close. Their mouths crushed together, teeth clacking in their desperate possession. It was a kiss full of hunger; it was messy and it was perfect.

Somehow, in a tangle of urgent touches and reluctantly broken kisses, they lost their shirts, and then their trousers. Clad only in their underwear, they paused a moment. Breathing heavily, they sized up each other, asking for permission, looking for a confirmation.

They wouldn't have been able to stop what they had begun even if they'd wanted to, and there was no reason to. Nothing would ever be the same anyway.

+~+~+

The next morning, Oliver and Percy dressed in silence and after a quick breakfast in the Great Hall each went their own way, as they usually worked on different projects.

At the end of the day when Oliver went up to their spot on the roof, he was surprised to find it deserted. They always met here in the evenings. Did Percy have regrets about last night? Oliver waited for a while, then decided to go and search for him. He would hate to have the actions of the night before standing between them, especially when it had been such a memorable night!

It took Oliver a while to find Percy. He ended up on the seventh floor because he didn't know where else Percy could be, unless he'd gone to the forest, and he didn't particularly fancy going there after sundown. Percy was looking out of the hole in the wall, sitting on top of a pile of rubble. When Oliver got closer, he saw that Percy's shoulders were shaking. He was crying in perfect silence.

Oliver sat down and put his arm around Percy's shoulder. Percy stiffened. Oliver was just about to move away when he felt Percy relax into the embrace. They sat like that for a while. Oliver felt powerless faced with Percy's silent turmoil, and yet he couldn't help the excited little flutter tingling in his body where Percy was leaning against him. The flutter finally settled in his stomach, and Oliver leaned over to gently kiss Percy's forehead. Percy took a deep breath, then sat up straight and pushed his glasses up his nose.

He cleared his throat and fidgeted a bit. Oliver wasn't sure what was coming, but he knew that Percy was trying to muster his courage. He cleared his throat again.

"I only ever tried to do the right thing, you know. I stuck to the rules. The rules were there for a reason after all, though maybe not all of them for the right reason. And I made so many mistakes, I could understand if they couldn't forgive me. But they already have. Can you believe that? They already have. I don't think I can forgive myself for what happened, though. I'll never be able to make amends to Fred... None of this is fair. None of this seems right. I just don't know what to do any more."

Oliver took a few moments to contemplate Percy's words. It was Percy's way of asking for help. More than anything, Oliver wanted Percy to know that he wasn't alone. "We could do this together, Percy."

"Yes, I think we could." Percy swallowed. "I think I'd like that."

Those words, haltingly coming from Percy's mouth, said quite a lot, everything really.

Both men looked across the Hogwarts grounds into the dusk. Into an unknown future in a changed world. Nothing was certain, only that they'd continue helping to heal and rebuild. Together.