In a World of Their Own

The blue flames of the bonfire spiraled high into the dark night surrounding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Watching the flames, Oliver Wood shivered, as if cold. But he wasn't; his shudder was more at the utter finality of the situation than the current temperature. It was, of course, the last night before the rest of his life began.

Earlier that day, Oliver's class had graduated. They had their NEWTs (Oliver had scraped through with just a few) and they were now certified witches and wizards. After seven long years, they had finally finished their schooling.

Of course, Percy Weasley had spoken at the graduating ceremony, and in Oliver's opinion he had done so marvelously. But then again, Percy always did do things perfectly, didn't he?

While he was speaking, Oliver had been bewitched. He had been unable to tear his eyes away from the tall redhead. Percy's voice, magically amplified, had rung clear, washing over them all. But Oliver had felt that Percy was speaking only to him.

Never once during his speech did Percy lift his eyes from Oliver. And when Percy had spoken of "bonds beyond anything created by a wand," he had smiled at him. That subtle, slightly self-conscious, perfectly Percy smile. Oliver had found himself grinning back like an idiot, feeling uncannily like he and Percy were, for one beautiful moment, enclosed in some glass casing separate from their classmates.

Their former classmates, that was. The seventh years were now enjoying their last act as a class: a magical bonfire on the Quidditch pitch.

Oliver stood separate from the others, leaning against the central Quidditch post he'd spent so many years defending. The faces of the rest of his class were illuminated by the flames, their smiles and tears amplified equally by the shadows being cast.

All day long, everybody had been talking and asking about the future. The future, they said in breathy tones, aglow and excited. The students had answered in generally orthodox ways. A few in the class were going on to further their wizardry studies in European colleges. A few, Marcus Flint included, were simply going to work with their parents - although Oliver wasn't sure what Marcus's parents did apart from raise trolls like him. A couple of the more brilliant students were going into Auror training.

And then there was Oliver.

"I suppose you'll just play Quidditch," Penelope Clearwater had said loftily to Oliver from her place at Percy's side, tone by itself implying how foolish she considered that career path.

Oliver had squirmed a little and answered, "Well... yes." After all, what else was there for him to do? He couldn't stand the thought of being confined behind a desk all day, and he knew for sure that he wouldn't handle further studies. His NEWTs had been bad enough. Quidditch was the natural option.

Percy, of course, had answered promptly to anyone and everyone that he was going into the Ministry as soon as he could. Every time he had said it within Wood's hearing, Oliver had found himself a little more alienated. Percy had such a future. Miss Clearwater certainly approved of his career choice, judging by her seemingly permanent attachment to Percy's arm that day.

But then again, Oliver reminded himself, girlfriends did have a tendency, and a right, to act like that.

Oliver really couldn't hide his resentment of the girl. He had no idea where he stood with Percy, and Clearwater was one of the reasons for his confusion.

By now, Oliver knew for certain that Percy had feelings for him that extended beyond friendship. They had talked about it long into many nights, and stolen several hurried kisses behind drawn curtains. The little that had taken place between them, had done so quickly. So alarmingly quickly, in fact, that Oliver had hardly had time to stand back and assess about how he felt about it.

He had feelings for Percy. He knew that. That wasn't the issue. He may have never recognised the feelings before the night they had started to talk again (and almost kissed, he reminded himself), but he was now almost comfortable in the knowledge that they existed.

Since that night, Oliver had found himself looking at the man anew. He had paid as much attention to observing Percy as he ever had to studying opposition Chasers, and that was certainly saying something. Oliver knew every damn nuance and habit of Percy's. It came as a surprise to Oliver that he was capable of obsessing over something that wasn't carrying a Quaffle.

So, certainly, he had feelings for Percy. Feelings far beyond friendship.

No, that wasn't the issue.

The issue was Percy himself.

Percy was special, Oliver knew that. He seemed at times to reciprocate Oliver's feelings tenfold. But at other times - especially around Clearwater, naturally - he was totally unreadable. It was at those times that Oliver felt - no, he knew that he meant nothing to Percy.

Oliver knew that he and Percy weren't together, not really, because Clearwater was still the one whose hand Percy held in the hallways, her lips still the ones Percy's met awkwardly outside the Great Hall.

Shifting his weight against the goalpost, Oliver sighed a little. He was jealous of Clearwater; he was completely unable to deny it. But then again, the whole mess was his own fault for leaving everything so late.

And so, he thought as he looked skyward, it would end between he and Percy Weasley. It would end after barely beginning. He would go play Quidditch professionally, Percy would go into the Ministry of Magic and marry Clearwater once she graduated, and everybody would live happily ever after.

Well, everybody would live happily except for Oliver, after all.

"Oliver!" A sudden female cry broke into his cynicism, accompanied by a light giggle. Oliver looked up to see Patricia Reid, a Hufflepuff, walking across the field to him. "Oliver," she whined, cocking her head at him, "come back to the party. You're missing all the fun."

He smiled tolerantly. "I just need some time to think, okay? I won't be long."

Patricia giggled again, blushing. "I'll hold you to that, you know. Don't you dare leave without saying goodbye to me." And with a final high-pitched giggle, she fluttered gaily back to the fireside.

Oliver knew the behaviour by now. After all, he'd seen it in his own trio of Chasers when they'd discussed the Hufflepuff Seeker Cedric Diggory earlier that year. Oliver was somewhat uncomfortably aware of what the girls at Hogwarts thought about him. He'd overheard a group of sixth year Ravenclaws in the hallway once: "That Oliver Wood, ooh, I'd polish his broomstick any day." He had brushed past them before they'd been able to see how red he'd gone.

It wasn't that he wasn't flattered. He supposed he was - but not flattered as much as embarrassed. And even then, there was still that damn nagging wish he had to be known as himself rather than stuck on a shelf and admired by strangers.

As if cued by the thought, Percy's voice reached him. "Oliver."

Oliver spun around. Percy was standing a few metres away. His skin was flushed the shade of his hair by the heat from the fire, and he was staring intently at Oliver.

Neither said anything for a few moments, before Percy stepped closer. "I think you ought to come closer to the fire. It's really very cold over here."

"I'm okay," Oliver answered absently. He knew Percy was probably just trying to find a way to break into proper conversation.

There was another bout of silence. Apparently that hadn't been the opening Percy was looking for.

Finally, without looking up at Oliver, Percy broke the pause. "So," he began, fiddling with a fingernail on his left hand, "This is it. The end of seven years."

Oliver nodded. There really wasn't a lot he could say to that, aside from a brief cliché about it being the start of so much else. He resisted the mild temptation.

All Oliver wanted to ask was what the future of their relationship was - if they even had a future, or indeed if they even had a relationship. But he simply didn't know how to begin. He couldn't very well just say something like, 'Are we going anywhere, Percy?' because it would sound patently ridiculous.

But then, without warning or permission, he was speaking. "Are we going anywhere, Percy?"

Oh, nice work, Wood, his mind mocked. Very good.

Percy looked, unsurprisingly, taken aback by the question. "What do you mean?"

Trying to think and at the same time trying not to speak was more challenging than Oliver had anticipated. He managed to gather his thoughts after a spell. Relatively gather them, anyway. "I mean... us, Perce. I don't know where we're going... I mean, together. If we are going anywhere. Uh, if we're going to keep whatever we have once we leave here... not that we really have much right now, or even anything, actually. Because of course, you have Penelope, and I have... I have..." Good one, his mind mocked him, that sentence is going nowhere fast, "Uh, I have... Quidditch, and I'm not trying to say that I don't want to have something. Or that I wouldn't want it to continue if we did have something, because I would, of course I would. But, uh..."

"Blimey, Oliver, speaking to you is more complicated than our Potions final." Percy gave him a wry smile.

Oliver had to grin back. Gradually, though, his smile faded. "Percy, I regret more than anything leaving all of this so late, but..." He drifted off, running a hand up and down the goalpost absently. The goalpost was solid. Real. Life was so simple when it was just Quidditch. "I hope it's not too late. I know how ridiculous that is, since you're going to be in the Ministry and I'll be a million worlds away playing Quidditch. Besides that, the role of your partner is already very well filled by Penelope." He turned back to the goalpost. Tangible. Reality. Feelings couldn't be trusted nearly as well as something he could actually touch.

"Actually," Percy said quietly, "I've just told Penny we won't be able to continue our relationship when I leave school." Oliver looked up hopefully, but Percy went on. "I told her the truth. I really won't have time to spend with her, while she's still in school and particularly when you consider the amount I'm going to be working..."

Oliver felt his hope crumble a little. "Oh," he said, very quietly.

"You twat," Percy said, laughter creeping into his voice, "I won't have time for her because I'd much rather be spending it with you."

"Oh," Oliver repeated, this time louder and with a smirk creeping onto his face.

There was a very pregnant pause, during which Percy just smiled at Oliver. "Oliver, I have got a lot of plans, both for this summer and beyond. I've as good as been accepted into the Ministry of Magic. I know where I'm going - for the most part, that is."

Staring at Percy without really seeing him, Oliver nodded.

Percy looked off into the darkness beyond the goalposts, expression unreadable. After a while, he continued. "I'm not a fan of lost opportunities. If we leave here as we are, it will possibly be one of the foremost lost opportunities in my life thus far. I am, quite frankly, not prepared to risk having such a regret."

Shifting his weight, Oliver studied Percy for a few moments. Percy had that unnervingly serious look about him. If it had been anybody else, Oliver would have expected them to break the spell and grin. But Percy kept his eyes trained on Oliver, not terminating the locked gaze between them.

Finally, Oliver spoke. "So what do we do?"

Percy stepped closer, close enough that Oliver could even see the glint of the firelight on the lenses of his glasses. "We have tonight. Whatever happens tonight, happens. When we leave tomorrow we consider our actions and weigh the consequences." Percy finally smiled gently. "When each of us has thought it through and reached our conclusion about the best path to take, we owl the other." Percy smiled again here, softer and more intimately. "I don't want us to rush into anything."

Oliver laughed aloud then, surreptitiously moving closer to Percy. "How can we rush into something that's been seven years in the making?"

"Seven years?" Percy repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me that you..."

Laughing again, Oliver held up a hand. "Don't flatter yourself." He smirked at Percy, stepping closer again. They were now barely inches apart, and aside from the flames, Oliver could see his own reflection in Percy's glasses. Watching the reflection was quite creepy - Oliver felt as if he was suddenly seeing things through Percy's own eyes. "So," he said quietly, watching his image speak the same words in unison, "what happens now?"

Percy blinked, diverting Oliver's attention from his glasses to his eyes. Percy's eyes were soft and beautiful, contrasting with his hard exterior. The exterior that Oliver had believed was Percy for almost seven years. Percy's eyes didn't hide a thing.

Right now, Percy's eyes... Oliver couldn't read them. His eyes might not hide anything, but they certainly didn't translate it all.

"I'm not sure where we go from here," Percy said as quietly as Oliver had spoken, and his eyes searched Oliver's for an answer. A hint. Some clue as to what was going to happen beyond that night.

Unable to think of anything to say, Oliver decided to make the move. Without a cautionary glance over to his classmates, he slipped his left hand across the small space dividing the two of them, resting it on Percy's sharp hipbone. Slowly, watching Percy's eyes for any warning to stop, Oliver brought his right hand up to touch Percy's cheek lightly.

Percy's eyes closed slightly as Oliver stroked a hand down his pale cheek. Oliver turned his hand so the back of it was brushing Percy's chin with the pressure of a feather.

And then it was Percy, Percy leaning forward to tentatively brush Oliver's lips with his own. A mere brush was all that happened before they both opened their eyes at the same time.

Silent questions passed between them, and this time Oliver could read Percy's eyes with perfect clarity: yes.

Oliver's hand slid around to nestle in the small of Percy's back and they moved together enough for their chests to touch, both leaning into the kiss that followed. Percy's hands moved awkwardly around Oliver until they were positioned on his shoulder blades, pulling Oliver into himself.

Shifting his weight, Oliver rocked onto the balls of his feet slightly to lessen the angle between their mouths. This kiss was more intense than any they had stolen in their dorm; their lips were pressed together tightly and as they moved, the friction between their skin stirred something deep in Oliver. He smiled into the kiss, his tongue moving out to tickle Percy's lips a little. Percy's mouth opened invitingly and Oliver could... he could feel Percy moaning ever so slightly into him, the gentle vibration against Oliver's tongue almost maddening in its softness.

They didn't break contact as one of Percy's hands moved up to stroke the hair at the nape of Oliver's neck. Percy's finger stroking across the fine down there caused a tingling sensation and Oliver pressed himself into Percy even harder, fingers digging into his back. His other hand shifted onto Percy's shoulder and he gripped there too, pulling Percy into the kiss until they were pressed against each other so tightly the rest of the world ceased to exist.

When they finally broke apart, Percy was panting a little to catch his breath. His lips were rubbed red and Oliver suspected his own looked the same. Oliver dropped his hands away, stepped back a little, and chanced a roguish grin at Percy.

He was rewarded with a shy smile back as Percy drew the back of his hand across his mouth. His tongue smoothed across his slightly swollen lips, and he murmured, "Oliver. That was..."

"Just what we've been waiting for," Oliver finished for him. He reached out and caressed Percy's arm gently.

Percy nodded his agreement.

Stepping forward again so his left arm locked around Percy's waist, Oliver looked into Percy's eyes again, past his own reflection, past Percy's mask, into Percy himself. The Percy that lay perfectly open for Oliver, perfectly honest. Oliver could read the eyes as clearly as ever now. They said things that Percy would have never dared to speak aloud.

And right now, they were silently asking Oliver to kiss him again.

Oliver moved more subtly, softly this time, gently pressing his lips to Percy's, pulling back so they were only just in contact. He opened his mouth slowly and let Percy's tongue be the first to dance invitingly. He moved forward into Percy's embrace, still keeping their kiss light while Percy moved forward a little to counter Oliver's efforts.

Then Percy moved a hand up Oliver's back, and rubbed a little with those too-long fingers of his, tapping and massaging, and Oliver felt himself move into the kiss regardless of his original intention. He craved pressure from Percy's mouth, and as his right hand rubbed over Percy's hipbone Oliver was struck with a need to touch Percy, touch as much of him as he could with his rough, overly large, made-to-catch-a-Quaffle hands. He needed to feel more of Percy's skin against his own, he craved it, he wanted--

"Oh, excuse me," Marcus Flint's low growl came from behind Oliver.

Oliver jerked out of Percy's embrace, turning around in one movement. He couldn't help automatically flushing as he ran a hand through his hair. Flint rocked back on his heels, arms crossed over his chest, an amused look on his face. His eyes raked up and down the pair, and Oliver felt vaguely scandalised.

"What--" Percy's voice started shaky, and he paused to take a breath. "What do you want, Flint?"

Without realising he was doing it, Oliver edged in front of Percy a little. It was more likely to be himself, rather than Percy, that Flint was interested in.

"Just wondering why the Head Boy and champion Quidditch captain," Flint said both titles as if they were insults, "were over here rather than with the rest of us." He sneered a little, gaze still raking across them both. "But it seems you were otherwise occupied."

Oliver drew himself up. He couldn't stand Flint; hadn't been able to stand him since they'd first played against each other. "Get back over there," he said, trying to sound menacing. "You've got no business with us."

Flint ignored the comment, continuing as if Wood hadn't even spoken. "I should have guessed, really. All those nights alone in Gryffindor Tower," he sniggered a little, then continued in his mocking tone, "but really, Wood, a Weasley. Surely even you could have done better than," here he sneered again, looking condescendingly at Percy, "than that."

With Percy standing so close, Oliver could almost feel him flinch at the comment. "Try to contain your jealousy, Flint," he shot back quickly. "I'd wish you luck in getting someone half as good as Percy to even give you the time of day."

"Jealous?" Marcus replied, ignoring the second half of what Oliver had said. "You and your wet dreams. Unlike some people, I don't have to resort to sucking cock to get some action."

With that, Flint gave them one last sneer and turned to walk back across the field to the fire.

Oliver watched until Flint was safely out of earshot before he turned to Percy. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Flint's always had a chip on his shoulder about me. It's a Quidditch thing."

But Percy was smiling softly, his lips turned up very subtly, almost unnoticeably. "Oliver, you stood up for me."

Raising an eyebrow, Oliver realised he was right. And what was more, he had automatically defended Percy. He hadn't even thought about it. He shrugged. "It was nothing."

"Oh, it was something," Percy said, voice getting quieter until Oliver really had to strain to hear him. "I don't think anybody's really stood up for me before."

Not knowing what to say, Oliver just looked at Percy. He was biting his lower lip oh-so-gently, looking so vulnerable. Oliver was suddenly hit by shame by the number of times over the years he'd laughed at Percy's expense, joked along as classmates complained about his uptight nature. It had never even struck Oliver to defend his roommate to the twins, who spent hours harping on about their older brother. But now that he thought about it - who would stand up for Percy? He didn't know Penny well enough to tell if she would have. Certainly not the twins; they were usually the instigators. There had probably, Oliver realised, been nobody at all.

"Well," Oliver said, moving closer and giving Percy a grin. "Nobody's going to have to again, with me around."

Percy rewarded that comment with the biggest, most genuine smile Oliver had ever seen him wear. It warmed Oliver's heart, and he beamed back as he slipped his hand into Percy's. Neither took any heed of their classmates' reactions as they walked back over to the crowd, hand in hand.

And so it would begin, Oliver thought to himself. They would have something.

Percy had said they should think about what they wanted and owl each other with a decision. Oliver wasn't sure what he really needed to think about. He had done all his thinking during the time his lips had spent locked with Percy's.

He knew what his decision was.

And the minute Oliver stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, he planned to owl Percy with the news.