Keeper's Secrets

Keeper's Secrets, Chapter 2 -- Standing Still

Oliver woke early that Halloween morning, as he had for the past few weeks. Stretching, he pulled his dressing-gown around his body to ward off the chill that pervaded the Hogwarts castle, and padded off down the corridor to the showers, where he spent a good half an hour getting himself warm and clean. As he shaved in the mirror in the shower (installed the previous year and charmed to be non-fogging), he absently hummed the Puddlemere United anthem, his mind drifting from one problem in his life to another. He thought about what he’d have to do in the next Quidditch practice -- he had found out earlier that week that Slytherin had weaselled out of the match the following Saturday, ostensibly because their incredibly irritating Seeker was injured. Oliver had muttered something about how, two years ago, Harry had been unconscious and Gryffindor hadn't been able to change their match, but McGonagall had silenced him with a look.

His mind then moved on to...Percy. He'd seen Percy and Penelope going around a corner towards the Astronomy Tower last night, and the two had exchanged a very strange look, not knowing that he was watching them. Oh, Percy...why can’t you be gay? Why do I have to fall in love with a person whom I cannot possibly have?

Oliver rubbed his eyes and breathed in the steam. He'd not been sleeping too well recently -- his dreams were filled with fantasies of Percy...Percy in a very skimpy swimsuit, sunning himself on a beach...Percy stroking Oliver's chest...Percy inviting Oliver to take--NO! Oliver turned the water down to cold and gasped as the freezing water from the aquifer deep under the Scottish castle splashed down on his shoulders.

Do you want me
Like I want you?
Or am I standing still
Beneath the darkened sky?

At breakfast, Oliver sat down next to Percy and played around with his sausage. It seemed as though the food budget had declined recently -- there was more toast and cereal and fewer sausages to be had for breakfast, although lunch and dinner were still up to the excellent caliber of the house elves.

"You look a little preoccupied, Ol," Percy said, eating his own sausage. "Anything the matter?"
"Neh...just a bit tired," Oliver lied. "Coming into Hogsmeade today?"
"'Course," Percy said. "I have to get the little brats something from that irritating joke shop, or perhaps Honeydukes. And I should look around for something for Mum and Dad as well...though Dad would probably prefer some sort of Muggle contraption. Perhaps a fan..."
Oliver laughed quietly. "True. But your mum might object. He'd probably take it apart and enchant it so it blew snow everywhere or something."
"Good point. I'll stick to a nice Muggle book, perhaps, and get Mum a cookbook."
"Not that you're stereotyping her or anything, of course," Ve Bassenthwaite said snidely from across the table. "Get the woman a cookbook and lock her in the kitchen, as usual." Vevelia Bassenthwaite was Muggleborn, an ardent feminist and card-carrying member of the political correctness brigade, a rarity in the wizarding world. Perhaps the Malfoys were right, and Muggleborns shouldn't be allowed into Hogwarts, Oliver mused.
Percy sighed and set his shoulders. "Vevelia. You have never met my mother. My mother enjoys cooking very much. She is an excellent cook. She does not see it as enslavement, or my father keeping her in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant. Sod off." Percy turned his head towards Oliver and away from Vevelia.
"Another one bites the dust, eh, Perce?" Oliver said quietly with a grin.

"Good morning, Percy my darling," Penelope said from behind them, reaching over and kissing Percy's cheek. The tips of Percy's ears went bright red. "Did you enjoy last night as much as I did?"

Or am I standing still
With the scenery flying by?
Or am I standing still
Out of the corner of my eye?
Was that you passing me by?

"Yes, thank you, Penelope," Oliver heard Percy say. "I really think I've got the hang of Arithmancy now. And don't you look at me with that raised eyebrow, Oliver Wood, or I'll kick you into next month."
"Can't do that, HB, you'll need him for the Quidditch match next weekend," James Alexander said, poking Percy.
"Do not prod me, James," Percy said, "or I shall be forced to falsely accuse you of stealing Professor Snape's collection of Vikki the Voluptuous Vampiress magazines."
Everybody laughed.
Damn, he's amusing, cute, sexy... Oliver thought. Bloody hell! I have got to get out of here and go somewhere...

Oliver stood up abruptly. "Right, got to go, I've got to polish up my MugStuds essay, " he said, smiling in what he hoped was a general, innocent way towards everyone. "Got to beat Hufflepuff next weekend."

The walk (well, near-run) up to Gryffindor Tower passed in a blur. Oliver strode quickly up the corridor to his study and slammed the door. The model of the Puddlemere player on his desk looked up sleepily and frowned at him. Oliver looked around, heart thumping, but not from the hundreds of stairs he'd climbed. Bastard! he mentally yelled at the top of his voice, and grabbed his broom. Get out of my head, you bastard! I cannot cope with lusting after you like this!

Trying to keep it clear
But I'm losing it here
To the twilight
There's a dead end
To my left
There's a burning bush
To my right
You aren't in sight

Oliver launched himself out of his window, breaking four school rules in the process (#32, "No Pupil shall utilise a broomstick, flying carpet or other personal aviation device unless part of a School-organised activity", #47, "No Pupil shall leave the Castle before Morning Break", #73, "Seventh Years shall set a good example for their juniors", and #102, "Entry to and exit from the Castle shall only be by doors"). Outside, a mist had descended into the Hogwarts valley, and Oliver quickly lost the castle in the blanketing greyness. In fact, he lost sight of almost everything, and flew slowly lower in order not to completely lose his visual orientation. He swooped low over the dark greyness of the lake, pulling up and over the Forbidden Forest, and swept back around to the castle. He knew that the Dementors which were ringing the Hogwarts grounds would not take kindly to anyone passing over the wardings which marked the edges of those grounds. It felt exhilarating to be on his broomstick, though -- alone, in his element, aloft. His mind began to clear slightly, and a certain curly redhead started to figure less prominently. He thought about the upcoming match, his NEWTs, Percy...

Oh, gods. What was he going to do about Percy?

Oliver swooped back into his window, propped his broomstick against the wardrobe and stripped off the now-sodden robes he was wearing, kicking all but his boxers into a wet heap at the foot of his bed. He rubbed his broomstick dry with the specially-softened chamois he kept for the purpose, stopping only when he was sure that the wood was not going to warp or the polish split with the damp. Straightening up, he spun around as someone coughed from the armchair on the other side of his bed. A red-haired someone. A curly red-haired someone. A curly red-haired someone wearing an "HB" badge. Shit.

"Interesting Muggle Studies essay, Ol," Percy said, crossing his legs in the chair and taking a sip of the mug of tea he had with him. "Were you seeing what it was like to be a Muggle in a helicopter? A hill-walker, perhaps?"

Oliver just stood there, dumb, before he realised that, in fact, he was just wearing a pair of boxers. He grabbed his dressing-gown off its peg and wrapped it around him, tying the cord tight around his middle.

"Oliver Wood. Something is wrong and I am not leaving until you tell me exactly what it is." Percy was frowning at him. Gods...that frown...I want to melt into his arms and tell him to spank me for being so bad...shut UP! Do not think about that!

"Perce...I can't say. Just trust me when I say that. I can't say."
"Is someone blackmailing you, Ol?"
"What?" Oliver exploded. "No! What on earth would make you think that?"
"Just that you seem awfully preoccupied. Not that you're one for secrets...at least not normally."
"Perce, I..." Can I tell him? At least that I'm gay? It's not that big a deal any more. Although...if I want to have a career in Quidditch...no. I can't. "I can't. Sorry."
Percy canted his head slightly to one side and almost imperceptibly raised an eyebrow. "Mm-hm," he said noncommitantly. "Just can't say. Ol..." He sounded plaintive now.
"Percy, I can't! I just can't, all right? Please, just understand that I cannot share my problem with you or with anyone else. If I could share it you would be the first person I'd share it with, honestly." I think.
Percy sighed heavily. "This is obviously very important to you, Ol. I'll not try to force it out of you, but..." He left it hanging.
"I know, Perce. And I'm sorry that I can't share it with you, but I can't share it with anyone. Sorry."

Percy uncrossed his legs and walked over to where Oliver was sitting on the bed. He placed his arm around Oliver's shoulders and squeezed. "When you can tell someone...I'm here for you, Ol. Seriously."
"Thanks, Perce," Oliver whispered. What I wouldn't give to pull him down on the bed and cuddle and snog and fuck him all day long...

Percy released the hug, smiled somewhere between wanly and warmly and walked out of Oliver's room, not noticing the massive erection that Oliver had sprung. In the corridor, he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. What I wouldn't give to go back in there and cuddle and snog and fuck him all day long...

Do you love me
Like I love you?
Or am I standing still
Beneath the darkened sky?
Or am I standing still
With the scenery flying by?
Or am I standing still
Out of the corner of my eye?
Was that you passing me by?
Are you passing me by?

The Halloween feast later on that evening was pure torture for both Oliver and Percy.

Oliver ate, not really noticing what he was eating, though Neil Marcus was enthusing about the chicken, with only one thing on his mind. Percy. Percy, Percy, PERCY!

Percy ate and chatted absently, though someone was wittering on about the food. He only had one thing on his mind...Ol. Oliver. Olly. Ol...

Not noticing the pudding he ate, Oliver was the first Gryffindor out of the Great Hall (which, he absently noticed, had pumpkins floating around in it) and up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. His eyes were unfocussed, his feet following the familiar way...along this corridor, up those stairs, round that corner, through the portrait hole--

But at the portrait hole, Oliver stopped, frozen. The Fat Lady's painting was slashed and torn, bits of canvas were strewn over the floor, and the Fat Lady herself was nowhere to be seen.

"What the...?" James Alexander's voice came from behind him. Oliver felt rather than saw James standing to his right -- he couldn't tear his eyes away from the slashed painting.

"Let me through, please," Oliver heard Percy's Head Boy Voice say as Percy pushed through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password -- excuse me, I'm Head Boy --" Percy stopped still. "Fuck," he breathed. "Oh, fuck..." Percy looked at Oliver, their eyes meeting for several seconds. Percy broke contact as he whipped his head round to where James, Neil and Jasper were standing in amazement. "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

* * *

Oliver lay in one of the squashy purple sleeping bags in the Great Hall. Most people had gone to sleep by that point, but Percy and the Prefects were standing in a circle at one end of the Hall, looking worried and occasionally looking up as one teacher or another looked in to check everything was well. Percy, unaware that Oliver was watching him, ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against a wall, staring up through the ceiling.

What's on his mind... Oliver wondered. What's he thinking?

Percy rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He was worried, for Harry and for Ron, who slept in the same dorm, for the rest of Gryffindor and for all of Hogwarts. Sirius Black! Fuck...murderers running about Hogwarts... Percy shuddered. Why the hell did this have to happen in my year? When I was Head Boy? Why couldn't the Crisis Of The Year have been a couple of Hufflepuffs playing Hide The Broomstick in the Astronomy Tower?

I bet he's worried, Oliver thought. That look seems familiar, like when he's not sure if what he just said is going to be funny. A pause. Oh, bloody hell. I am in love with him. I know what his looks mean. Bugger.

I wish Dumbledore or McGonagall would get back here soon, Percy thought. It does rather feel as if I am the only protection that the population of this school has. Oh, what I wouldn't give to just be a pupil again...like James or Neil...or Ol. Percy's mind flitted off into several erotic contortions with Oliver until he was brought crashing down to reality. The tips of his ears were turning pink in that Irritating Weasley Way, he realised.

Aww, Oliver thought, the tips of his ears are turning pink in that Cute Weasley Way...

Percy ran his eyes over the purple lumps which roughly corresponded with the Gryffindors. He stopped at one pair of brown eyes which widened slightly and then crinkled at the edges in a smile.

Oh, bugger, he saw me looking, Oliver thought. Smile, grin, in friendly, not smutty way. Gods, he's gorgeous.

Percy smiled back, reminding himself not to let his face show exactly how gorgeous he found Oliver. Aloof, unavailable, Head Boy. Aloof, unavailable Head Boy. With girlfriend.

Of course, Penelope would be a bit of a problem if or when he declared his undying love for Oliver and skipped off into the pink sunset. At least Penelope had a gay uncle who she actually liked...but still.

Percy remembered when one of Charlie's exes had become a somewhat militant lesbian, and that everyone had accused him of "bending the poor girl". The twins' comments had been particularly vulgar, involving parallels between Charlie's CleanSweep XXL and other pieces of his equipment, but never in earshot of their parents.

Penelope, Percy reckoned, would probably never speak to him again...if he was lucky. If he was unlucky, she would take out a full page in the Prophet -- or worse, Witch Weekly or the Huddersfield Harpy -- and out him to the world. Urgh.

Of course, it was entirely possible that she could be wonderful, understanding, sympathetic, and besides, he was a great snog. Not to mention the cachet that she got from her Ravenclaw friends for going out with the person who got the most O.W.L.s in their year. Moreover, she and Percy had been friends since primary school, when Percy had helped her clear up after Tobi Hardbroom had tipped a pot of Scribbulus' Everchanging Finger Paints over Penelope's favorite dress.

Percy, my boy, cross that bridge when you come to it, a little Percy in a long white surplice and small golden halo sitting on his right shoulder said sweetly in his right ear.

No! the little Percy in the fetching red leather trousers, tight-fitting red lycra sleeveless t-shirt and cute little horns on his left shoulder objected in a sultry voice. Go ravish him now!

Percy stood there, unaware he was still looking at Oliver, unnoticed by anyone else but his unrequited love.

Oliver drank in Percy's concentrated gaze -- he was just there, motionless, gazing in Oliver's direction, obviously deep in thought...

Do you love me
Like I love you?
Or am I standing still
Beneath the darkened sky?
Or am I standing still
With the scenery flying by?
Or am I standing still
Out of the corner of my eye?
Was that you passing me by?
Are you passing me by?

* * *