Keeper's Secrets

Keeper's Secrets, Chapter 4: Somewhere over the Rainbow

December 21st, 1994 -- Yule Solstice -- Several Hours Later

Oliver lay on his bed, Mr Snowy (his stuffed cat) on his chest under his crossed arms. He stared at the ceiling in the light from the desklamp on the other side of his room, following the lines of the plaster with his eyes. He'd turned on the WWN earlier, which was currently playing something classical, orchestral, and non-descript -- in other words, perfect.

Oliver's Song: Imaginary Love

Every kind of love, or at least my kind of love
Must be an imaginary love to start with.
Guess that can explain the rain, waiting walking game
Schubert broke my brain to start with.

-Rufus Wainwright, "Imaginary Love"

Oliver's mind wandered back over the afternoon's events again and again. He was staring into Percy's eyes, his lips touching Percy's, caught in that fleeting moment of bliss. Percy's eyes locked with his...they exchanged so much more than they could have said in that brief moment.

And then Percy was gone, nothing more than a retreating back, hurrying down behind the seats and pushing through the doors into Diagon Alley.

'Cause every kind of love, or at least my kind of love
Must be an imaginary love to start with.
Guess that can explain the rain, waiting walking game
Schubert broke my brain to start with.

Percy paced his room in the Burrow. Fred and George were making things explode in their room nearby, which made the cold cup of tea on Percy's desk rattle every time the room shook.

Oh, my God. What the fuck did I do?

You kissed Oliver Wood. Surely you haven't forgotten that. The little Percy-angel in the white surplice with the perfectly-coiffed hair fluttered down to his right shoulder. You do love him.

As much as I hate to say this, the leather-trousered Percy-devil in tight t-shirt and leather trousers on his left shoulder said, chummy over there is right. You do love him.

"But I love Penelope!" Percy said, and then cringed as he realised he'd said it out loud. I do.

Yes, yes, but you don't think about her when you're wanking, do you? the little devil said, pulling out a manicure block and buffing his nails.

Hmph, the angel said. That's not important. What's important is whether or not you love Penelope or Oliver. Or both. There's nothing wrong with being bi, you know.

Yes, the devil said with a diabolical grin. More choice, anyway.

That's not how I want to live my life! Percy said, making a grab for the devil but being unable to actually grab hold of him. What am I supposed to do, marry Penelope and see Oliver alternate nights?

He'd do it for you, the angel said quietly, sitting with his legs hanging down over Percy's shoulderblade. You know he would.

Yes, but he shouldn't, Percy said. Hell, I shouldn't.

Why not? the devil asked.

Because...because I promised Penelope. We're going out. How will she feel if I suddenly turn around and announce that I'm gay?

How will she feel if you tell her after another six months? Or six years? After you're married? After you have kids? The devil shook his head. You have to tell her. She might already know...women are perceptive that way.

You know you're gay, the angel said gently. What's the use in pretending you're not?

I...I...I am. Percy swallowed. The light at the end of the dark tunnel he was looking down brightened to sunlight briefly but then slammed back into darkness. What am I thinking? I can't be gay. I'd be kicked out of home, out of Hogwarts...I would never get a job...I'd have to live as a Muggle.

You're getting hysterical, the angel said calmly. Dumbledore knows that people are gay. Think of Drew Oberon, for example. Queer as a three-Galleon coin, and Dumbledore knew. You won't be kicked out of Hogwarts.

Again, the little devil said grumpily, I have to agree.

Your parents wouldn't kick you out either, the angel said reassuringly. They love you. And they'll have enough grandchildren anyway even without your progeny.

So what the hell do I have to do? Percy yelled silently to them.

The angel and devil looked at each other. Go tell Oliver, they said in unison.

Tell him that you're never going to leave him
Tell him that you're always going to love him
Tell him, tell him, tell him, tell him right now.

-The Exciters, "Tell Him"

"And that," Barbara Gambalerina, the husky-voiced witch on the WWN, was saying, "was Franz Schubert's lovely Rosamunde. Coming up...Thomas Tallis' deliriously gorgeous Spem in Alium. This forty-part choral work, likened to 'a crumpet swimming in a sea of golden syrup' by a nineteenth-century critic, was written in response to a lesser-known piece by the Italian composer--"

Oliver picked up his wand and used it to flick the WWN off. He jumped off his bed, thoughts flying around, and paced around his room, still holding Mr Snowy absently in one arm. He didn't know where Percy had gone after leaving Here be Dragons. He assumed that Percy'd gone straight home...but he didn't know. When he'd Flooed back home, the clock in the kitchen had pointed to "Out to Dinner" for both Oliver's mother and father, and Elijah's hand had been pointing to "In the Pub". Only when he got upstairs did he realise that it was Solstice, and that his parents were probably having dinner with some of their friends -- the Boots, probably, or the MacMillans. The house was silent apart from Oliver's pacing.

He needed to do something with his hands. He put down Mr Snowy and picked up his Quaffle from inside the Quidditch box at the foot of his bed, sank back on the bed and threw the red ball up. It floated slowly down again, and Oliver caught it easily. Throw. Would Percy tell his own parents? Catch. Oliver imagined Molly and Arthur Weasley, normally so pleasant, outraged, red-faced and irate. Throw. The chain of events moved on as Oliver saw the Weasleys arriving via Floo and talking to his own parents. Catch. He saw his mother's face break as Molly Weasley told her, putting her arm around his mother and comforting her. Throw. His father just stood stock still, mouth open, eyes bulging. Catch. Arthur Weasley put his hand on his father's shoulder and looked at him for a reaction, but his father just stood there.

Merlin...I have seriously fucked up here, Oliver thought to himself. If they find out, they will throw me out. I could probably live at Hogwarts...but who the hell is going to hire a gay Quidditch player? No team in Britain, that's for sure. Oh, bugger. I have seriously fucked up.

But...he's the only person I've ever loved. Can I throw that away? Do I want to?

Oliver put the Quaffle down on his bed next to Mr Snowy. Walking over to his desk, he pulled out a piece of cream writing-parchment, monogrammed with "OJW" in burgundy in an elegant art-deco typeface. "What can I write to the one man I've ever loved?" he wondered aloud.

'Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning
Same in the afternoon
One man guy when the sun goes down
I whistle me a one man tune
One man guy a one man guy
Only kind of guy to be

-Rufus Wainwright, "One Man Guy"

Percy swung off his CleanSweep outside the Woods' house and unwrapped his thick scarf. It was getting on for ten or eleven at night, and it had been dark here in northern Scotland for six or seven hours already. His breath made thick clouds of steam in the freezing air, and the moon gleamed down, large, full and bright, reflecting off the North Sea far in the distance. The Woods, a large house of indistinguishable time period with four square towers, one at each corner, stood at the end of a long gravelled driveway, along which was planted an avenue of graceful old oak trees. Behind and to the sides of the house, old trees were dotted in the lawn, and there was a large expanse of woodland behind it.

My love dwelt in a northern land;
A dim tower in a forest green was his.
And far away the sand,
And gray wash of the waves was seen,
The woven forest boughs between.

--Edward Elgar, "My Love Dwelt in a Northern Land"

Percy hadn't dared come by Floo in case Oliver's parents were sitting in the kitchen, and they'd be sure to wonder what he was doing there at that time of night. Instead, he'd Flooed with his broomstick to the Esk Inn, the closest wizarding pub, and flown from there. It had only taken about twenty minutes in flight, but Percy was glad he'd worn his thickest woollen jumper, heaviest cords and a long, wide thick black cloak which he'd actually been able to wrap around himself while aloft and had charmed to make it stay closed.

Percy looked at the house and worked out which lighted window was Oliver's. It was in one of the square towers which stuck out from the corners of the house. He sat on the wall and stared at the window for a few minutes. The curtains weren't drawn, but still, all he could see was some sort of ball being thrown up and down. It looked like a Quaffle the way it descended more slowly than it ascended.

What are you doing right now? Percy asked silently. Do you hate me? Do you resent me? Do you...

Love me? the angel asked pointedly.

Percy gulped. ...Love me? he asked the silent evening. Do you? Like I...

Love you? the devil supplied, sounding more than a little irritated.

Percy gulped again. ...Love you...I do love you, Oliver. And I was stupid...fucking stupid...to run away from you this afternoon.

You need to tell him that, the angel said.

Percy's Song: Something Stupid

I know I stand in line until I think you have the time
To spend an evening with me.
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance
You won't be leaving with me

And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two.
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like "I love you"

Oh, for the love of the gods,

the angel said, grabbing his halo and throwing it off Percy's shoulder, where it bounced off the wall he was sitting on. Just get a fucking move on, you stupid bugger!

Do, please, because he's rapidly turning into me, the devil said from his other shoulder. I might have to move on to someone who actually needs a devil.

Percy pushed himself off the wall. "Right," he muttered. "I am going to go tell Oliver I love him."

That's the spirit! the little angel said, jumping up and punching the air. Go tell him you love him and that you want to be with him forever! Go tell him that you want to hold him and kiss him and fuck his brains out! The angel paused, looked around as if he were embarrassed, and reddened slightly.

The devil shrugged resignedly, rolled his eyes, stripped off his sleeveless red lycra t-shirt and threw it to the angel. You'll need this, mate.

You gave me all your love in one day
You gave it all and almost faded away
Well I'm going to take this sad unread issue
In my arms tonight.

-Rufus Wainwright, "In My Arms"

Oliver sat at his desk, the clean sheet of cream writing-parchment in front of him like a wall he had to climb. Can't I just fly over it? he asked himself. He dipped his favorite quill into the inkwell in the desk and started to write.

Dearest Percy, he wrote.

I can't really ever tell you how hard it is for me to write this letter. I suppose it's equally as hard for you to read it. What we shared today was one moment, a fleeting moment. A moment of love, certainly...and for me, a moment like none other I have ever experienced.

Percy, I hope you know how much you mean to me. I know how much you mean to me -- you mean the world to me. You were there for me at my lowest ebb last term. You remember when you were sitting in my room as I flew back in, and I said I had something to tell you? Well here it is.

I'm gay.

Two little words, just two. I can't believe how difficult they are to write, let alone get up the strength of willpower to say. I tell myself that I should be strong, that I'm an athlete, that I should be able to tell you, the man who I consider one of my best friends...but I dissolve into this weak-willed pile of goo with no more ability to tell you than to fly without a broomstick.

I'm gay. It came more easily the second time.

I worry, Percy. I can't help but imagine all these scenarios of what could or would or might happen if I told anyone. They all end in total disaster. But I have to tell someone. And I chose you.

I chose you because I love you. I love you to the bottom of my soul. I love everything about you -- your intelligence, your compassion, your kindness, your strength. I love the way you rub the bridge of your nose when you're thinking deeply about something. I love the way you run your hands through your hair and it springs back. I love how the bits around your eyes scrunch together when you're concentrating on something. I love the way that the tips of your ears redden when you blush. I love Percy Weasley.

I don't know if you feel the same way about me. I don't even know if you're gay. I hope you are, but if you're not, I hope that I haven't ruined our friendship by telling you that I love you.

I don't know what I'll do now. I doubt that I'll be able to get to sleep. Perhaps I'll just stay up and compose some really bad love poetry. If this letter hasn't made you hate the very thought of me, I'd love to see you whenever you feel like coming round. Any time. Night or day. Wherever. Whenever.

Oliver.

Oliver put the quill slowly into the little receptacle in the inkwell and took a deep breath. Blowing on it to dry his signature and the last few lines, he picked it up and started to read it aloud.

"Dear Percy."

As he read it aloud, it started to sink into his mind. Was this really what he wanted to be doing? Should he even send it?

Oliver read on. "I'm gay." He frowned. "This is crap," he said, starting towards the green candle burning on his desk, to burn it...but stopped. "I have to do this. I have to do this."

"It came more easily the second time..."

He read on, his mind spinning and only half taking it in. He read the section over again. "I worry, Percy." And he did. He did worry. Not only for himself, but for Percy, who wanted to work at the Ministry, bastion of conservatism and bigotry that it was. "I chose you." And he had. But could he send it?

"I chose you because I love you." Was that too trite? "I love everything about you --" It was true, though. As Oliver read, he saw Percy in his mind's eye, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and running his hands through his hair, and scrunching up his eyes, and his ears reddening. "I love Percy Weasley. And I do. I really do."

"I don't know if you feel the same way about me..." Yes, very good, attempt to salvage the friendship in case he isn't gay, despite the fact you've declared your undying love for him.

"I don't know what I'll do now..." Oliver thought for a moment. Do I sound desperate? "Perhaps I'll just stay up and compose some really bad love poetry." Too jocular? Not serious enough? "...I'd love to see you whenever you feel like coming round. Any time. Night or day. Wherever. Whenever. All my love..."

"How about now?"

As if in slow motion, Oliver turned to the door, which had opened silently. Percy stood there, an inscrutable look on his face. Oliver's mouth came open and he just stood there.

"I love you too," Percy said, and the little angel and devil snuggled closer to each other on his shoulder.

"You...you do?" Oliver sank onto his bed.

"Yes. I do. I love you, Oliver." Percy walked slowly over, dropping his coat on the floor and pushing the door to with his foot. "I love you." He sat down next to Oliver and brushed the back of his fingers along Oliver's jawline, gently pushing his jaw closed. "Really."

Oliver and Percy's Song

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over that rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

-Arlen & Harburg,
as performed by Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz

Oliver leaned forwards into Percy's hand. Percy's other hand came up to meet the other side of his face. "I love you," Percy repeated. "I do."

Oliver's mouth opened slightly, but the only sound which came out was a whisper. "I love you too."

Percy moved his head forward until his mouth was just next to Oliver's right ear. "I love you more than anything else in the world," he whispered into his ear. "I want nothing more than for us to be together." Oliver exhaled slightly. He kissed Oliver's earlobe. "Tasty." He flicked it with his tongue.

You go, boyfriend! the little angel yelled from his shoulder. The little devil rolled his eyes and said Sorry. We'll be off now. Enjoy him, and they disappeared in two puffs of smoke, one white, one red.

Percy leaned sideways towards the bed and brought Oliver down with him. Their noses were less than an inch apart, and their eyes met. "Do you want..." Percy began.

"Yes."

"I mean...you know what will--"

"Yes. I love you."

"And I love you." Percy's eyes scrunched up. "How long have you...known?"

"Since I was thirteen."

"Fourteen."

"And how long have you...I mean...I've loved you since...gods...since..." Oliver trailed off.

"Me too," Percy said, leaning forward and gently brushing Oliver's forehead with his lips. "Since first year...but I've only just started to realise it."

Percy moved his mouth down to Oliver's and they slid further up the bed in their embrace. Percy cradled Oliver's head in his arms, and Oliver entwined his own around Percy's lower back, pulling them both together. Oliver grasped for the back of Percy's shirt and pulled it up, sliding his hand along Percy's spine. Percy reached his hands down and pulled Oliver's shirt up and over his head, breaking the kiss for the shortest of split seconds.

"This," Percy said as Oliver pulled his shirt over his ginger hair, "has been the longest day of my life."

"And to think," Oliver said between kisses, "that you ran away in the bookstore."

"I'm so sorry," Percy said. "I needed to think...it was--"

"It's okay," Oliver said.

"But I--"

"It's okay," Oliver repeated, attempting to stifle Percy's protests with his mouth.

"I'm so, so sorry, I--"

"Percy?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Now stop apologising."

"All right." Percy hugged Oliver tightly. "It's just that mmph-ngh-mmph...I'll stop talking now."

"Talking," Oliver said as he flicked the tip of Percy's nose with his tongue, "is fine. Apologising for something that we both know you needed to do is not fine. Don't make me tickle you, Percy Weasley."

"But...it's just that I was so stupid...I didn't think...I could have ruined it all...all this..."

"Last I checked, they'd stopped hanging people for that. I could check, though." Oliver stroked Percy's cheek again, feeling the half-millimeter of scratchy stubble that had grown out since that morning. "You're so gorgeous, my love."

Come away, sweet love, and play thee
Lest grief and care betray thee
Fa la la, la la la, la la la

Leave off this sad lamenting
And take thy heart's contenting.
The nymphs to sport invite thee
And running in and out delights thee.

-Thomas Greaves, "Come Away, Sweet Love" (c.1600)

Percy's heart melted as Oliver's deep, dark brown eyes gazed down at him, full of love and care and compassion. He leaned in for another kiss, running his fingertips lightly up Oliver's back and feeling him shudder slightly with ticklish pleasure. Keeping Percy's cheek cupped in one hand, Oliver moved the other one down to Percy's belt, fumbling slightly but unbuckling it. He undid the clasp at the top of Percy's dark burgundy corduroys and slid the zip down. Breaking eye contact, Oliver slid the trousers down Percy's legs. He slowly stroked up the back of Percy's leg as he brought his hand back up to his waist, twirling the small patch of ginger hair between Percy's navel and the waistline of his tight seersucker boxers. Percy matched Oliver's actions almost exactly, drawing in for a long, deep kiss when he returned and entwining his thumbs in the waistband of Oliver's silk boxer shorts as he did so.

You could say this was an independent love song
It's nothing like to us what love meant to them
But that's not to say the love we have isn't big or that strong
I'm doing it a different way
I'm doing it a different way

You might say this is another boring love song
To be together and forever be true
And so today it's much the same as it was then
I'm doing it a different way
I'm doing it a different way

I'll show you how to take me
And I'll show you how to turn me
And I'll show you how to touch me..

-Scarlet, "Independent Love Song"

It had been Percy who had made the first move, Oliver remembered as they lay, spent, in his bed, limbs tangled with each other and the duvet, with their clothes He pulled up the duvet over them both as a draught whispered across his chest, making the light brown hairs contract into goose-pimples. He still felt the endorphins in his blood, calming, loving, fulfilling. Percy straightened up and then snuggled backwards, moulding his back to an exact fit of Oliver's stomach, and reaching back for Oliver's hand.

"Darling...that was...that was wonderful," Oliver heard Percy say softly. "You're wonderful. I do love you...I love you so very much."
"And I love you," Oliver said into Percy's ear. "I love you so very much."
"More than you love Mr Snowy?" Percy said, placing the stuffed cat on top of them both.
"Well...just as much as Mr Snowy. Although," and he leaned in closer to Percy's ear, "you're much nicer to lie next to. He doesn't warm up the...bed as much."
"That sounded like a proposition to me, Oliver Wood," Percy said.
"Do you know, Percy, it might just have been. It might just have been."

Nobody does it better
Makes me feel sad for the rest.
Nobody does it half as good as you,
Baby, you're the best.

The way that you hold me, whenever you hold me.
There's some kind of magic inside you.
It keeps me from running but just keep it coming
How'd you learn to do the things you do?

-Marvin Hamlisch & Carole Bayer Sager
"Nobody Does It Better" as sung by Carly Simon

"Tired, my love?" Oliver asked as Percy tried to stifle a yawn.
"Mmm, just a little bit," Percy said, one hand resting lightly on Oliver's hip.
"Huh. Because I'm positively buggered," Oliver observed, brushing a stray lock of Percy's hair to one side of his forehead.
"Gosh. Fancy that," Percy said as his mouth widened into a suggestive grin.

We have all the time in the world,
Time enough for life to unfold
All the precious things love has in store.
We have all the love in the world;
If that's all we have, you will find
We need nothing more.

We have all the time in the world,
Just for love,
Nothing more, nothing less,
Only love.

-Hal David & John Barry, "We Have All the Time in the World"
as sung by Louis Armstrong

Oliver stretched his neck from side to side as Percy rubbed his shoulders from his vantage point, kneeling atop Oliver's legs. "Do you know what day it is today, darling boy?"

"December twenty-first," Percy said, moving down to Oliver's back.

"Which is?"

"Yule Solstice," Percy said, as if it should be obvious.

"Which means?"

"It's the shortest day of the year," said Percy, frowning as he massaged Percy's lower back. "Why?"

"You do know what that means, don't you?" Oliver asked, looking back over his shoulder with a wide smile.

"What?" Percy asked, digging his thumbs into the bottom of Oliver's back.

"Ow...ah." Oliver was silent for several seconds.

"Oliver James Wood!" Percy snapped. "Do I have to do this to make you talk?"

Oliver's back constricted and his chest raised off the bed. "Oh...do that again!"

"Only if you tell me what possible significance the fact that it's the shortest day of the year can have," Percy said, digging his thumbs into the bottom of Oliver's back again.

Oliver writhed out of the grip of Percy's legs and lay on his back, looking mischievously up at Percy, who had dropped to his hands and knees and whose nose was about an inch from his own.

Oliver's right eyebrow shot up as his mouth widened in a grin.

"It's the longest night."

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over that rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

-Oliver & Percy's song