Perfect Distraction
by VicXntric

It started at the end of Marcus Flint's seventh year.

While some people may not have been enthusiastic about his attentions, no one had ever actually refused them, either. As far as Marcus was concerned, with a little effort, the same should apply to a prefect that barely acknowledged his existence.

His brothers, always quick to spot any variation in Perfect Percy's habits--all the better to find something to tease him about--flanked him in his seat immediately. "What's this, Perce?" Fred asked, snatching at the parchment. "They offer to make you the new Minister of Magic already?"

Percy managed to jerk the parchment out of the twins' reach. "I don't see how my post is any of your business," he said, hoping his haughty tone would put the twins off.

No such luck. "Oy, isn't that Bill's owl?" George demanded, taking a closer look at the spotted owl blinking sleepily at them.

"What's Bill writing you for?" Fred made another unsuccessful grab at the letter.

"What's up?" George chimed in. "You know he doesn't like sending Tiye on the long trip too often."

"I'm sure Tiye stopped off at the Burrow with post for Mum and Dad as well," Percy said sensibly, indicating the subject was closed. "No more carrying for you," he said to the owl in a far kinder tone than he used with his brothers. "Head back to Bill after you've rested."

Tiye replied with a sleepy hoot of thanks before departing for the school owlery.

Percy grabbed his books and parchment and got up from the table.

Annoyed a being thwarted, Fred said loudly. "Treasure hunting is really exciting work. Obviously, Bill needs something to bore him."

There were several chuckles from the Gryffindor table, including the youngest Weasley brother and Harry. Percy gave no indication that he'd heard Fred's comment or the chuckles it prompted. He appeared totally unaffected, unless a person knew where to look.

Oliver Wood knew where to look. He watched Percy leave the Great Hall with his back straighter and his chin much higher than usual, then turned on his two Beaters. "Why do you always have to embarrass him in front of everyone like that?"

The twins looked astounded that Oliver commented at all. The Quidditch captain had often joked that he'd rather face a dozen rogue bludgers than get in the middle of a Weasley squabble. Even more amazing, he didn't bother waiting for a reply, but got up from the breakfast table and followed Percy out.

The twins exchanged puzzled glances. "First Quidditch match is coming up," George suggested, returning to his seat. "Pressure must be getting to him."

Ron laughed again, and Harry, often the focus of Oliver's Quidditch mania, looked resigned.

Between classes and Quidditch practice, it was well after dinner before Oliver had the chance to talk to Percy again and by then he wasn't sure how to bring up the subject. Luckily, Percy did it for him. As the Head Boy sat near the foot of his bed, going through his nightly ritual of emptying and repacking the battered briefcase he used, he paused with a curious frown at the small roll of parchment, then snorted again and placed it on his nightstand.

"Not bad news, is it, Perce?" Oliver asked casually.

"No, not at all. Just Bill trying to be funny."

That piqued Oliver's curiosity--as far as he knew it wasn't common for Percy and his eldest brother to be sharing jokes. He walked over and picked up the parchment, waiting for Percy's lecture on manners and other people's property before he went ahead and read the letter anyway. Much to his surprise, no lecture was forthcoming--actually, Percy was looking a bit amused. "You don't mind if I read this, do you?" he asked as an extra nudge.

"Not at all," Percy was obviously trying to hide a smile.

Oliver was a bit non-plussed, but when he opened the letter he saw the reason for Percy's amusement. "Hieroglyphics?" Oliver studied the parchment for a moment, but didn't recognize any of the symbols, even though some hieroglyphs were used in their advanced courses.

"And Coptic, I think," Percy added.

"You can read this?" Oliver wouldn't have been surprised to hear that Percy had studied Ancient Egyptian during his summer vacation.

"Not really. Not all of it, anyway. It's not actual writing, anyway. Bill just used the symbols as joke."

"What? Is he writing you in code?" Oliver laughed.

"Pretty much," Percy replied absently--he had gone back to his original task.

"Does he figure you for a Cypher?" Oliver teased.

"Where did I put that Transfiguration Assignment?" Percy concentrated on digging through his briefcase.

Oliver was so surprised at the notion of his friend as a Cypher that he didn't even bother teasing Percy about his pathetic attempt to change the subject. Encrypting a document was fairly simple in the wizarding world and required spells that were taught in sixth year Ancient Runes. More specialized spells meant more difficult codes and there were encrypters who cast complex spells that could only be read by those who had the secret counter spells. Cyphers could break codes without a spell. True Cyphers were extremely rare--it was a talent one had to be born with--and most were those with a slight ability that had been honed with intense practice; although even they were not able break the more extreme codes. That was all Oliver knew about them, except that they usually wound up working for the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries. "Does Bill figure you for a Cypher?" Oliver repeated more forcefully.

"Don't be ridiculous," Percy muttered.

That clinched it for Oliver. "What makes him think so?" He threw himself down on top of Percy's bed.

Percy sighed, "Must you lounge about on my assignments?"

"Must you keep trying to get out of answering my questions?" Oliver returned.

"He mentioned it when we were in one of the tombs, because I guessed correctly at what was on one the walls. The notion is preposterous and I told him so, naturally."

"Naturally," Oliver grinned.

Percy gave him a quelling frown. "He insists on pestering me about it, though. Which is why he sent the letter."

"How do you know that's what's in the letter?"

"I..." Percy hesitated.

"Merlin, Percy--"

"Don't you start, too, Oliver," Percy looked stern. "If I were I Cypher it would have been discovered long before this--and by a professor, not a curse-breaker."

"I think it happens in degrees, Percy. Maybe--"

"That's enough, Oliver," Percy snapped, out of patience. "Cyphers are sketchy characters at best, I have no desire to be one, even if the possibility were there."

Oliver let the subject drop, knowing full well that Percy would never admit to having any of the traits of a Cypher because they operated on instinct and hunches, not facts and logic. However, he couldn't let the conversation end on such a sour note-- "Do you good to get a bit sketchy now and then, Perce."

Fortunately, Oliver's Keeper skills were as useful for dodging pillows as they were for blocking Quaffles.

Percy winced. Penelope's voice was rising in range as well as volume, and that wasn't a good sign. Penelope prided herself on her decorum and intellect and unlike Percy, it took a lot more than Weasley twins for her to alter her cool, even tone. Percy could hardly believe he'd managed to do it without actually trying. "Now, Penny, really," he said, shooting for sensible and authoritative. " You know my mother has asked me to keep a close eye on Ron and Ginny and especially Harry."

"Harry can't go to Hogsmeade--you told me so yourself," Penelope countered. "Now tell me why we can't go to Madame Puddifoot's as we'd planned."

"Staying at Hogwarts is no longer a guarantee of safety," Percy pointed out. "Remember what happened on Hallowe'en."

Penelope released such a gusty sigh that the curls on her forehead fluttered slightly. "It's almost Christmas, Percy," she said, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "I do wish you would stop bringing up Hallowe'en."

"Penny, my brother--"

"Yes, I know," Penelope's voice was now dropping several degrees as well. "And I told you how sorry I was. I told you that you had done everything you could. I told you that you were not responsible for what happened. What else am I supposed to say? And how many times am I supposed to say it?"

She had done all those things, Percy reflected. Still as an only child, his bone-deep fear had obviously eluded her. He couldn't bring himself to tell Ron how frightened he had been when it became obvious a mass murderer had been in the third-year dorm, just like he hadn't said a word to Harry about how much that fall had done to his nerves. Instead, he went over it again and again with Penny and Oliver--the only two people he'd felt comfortable with. Odd though, that Oliver was an only child as well, and he had no trouble understanding how Percy felt. Of course, Oliver had been just as shaken up about Harry's fall as Percy--his protectiveness of the Seeker extended off the Quidditch pitch as well.

"Is Oliver staying?" Penelope asked him.

Percy blinked. Coming out of his momentary reverie, he missed the edge in his girlfriend's voice. "Excuse me?"

"Oliver, he's not going to Hogsmeade, is he?"

Percy reflected for a moment and recalled that Oliver had mentioned finishing up his homework assignments before he went home for Christmas. "I believe so, but--"

"Nevermind, Percy." Penelope rose from the bench they'd been seated on. "I'll see you after the hols."

Percy was left feeling vaguely guilty, even though he wasn't entirely certain why. "May I walk you to the station tomorrow? I was hoping to give you your Christmas gift."

Penelope gave him a small, tight smile. "You may," she replied formally, giving Percy the distinct impression that he was not forgiven just yet.

Getting close to perfect prefect Percy wasn't nearly as simple as Marcus had thought. For one thing, he hadn't considered that Percy would be made Head Boy, even though, upon reflection, he probably should have.

Although most older students--including his own brothers--didn't seem to treat Percy with more respect, there always seemed to be younger students from all the houses around him. It seemed that a Head Boy's work was never done. If he wasn't leading tearful lost first years to their classroom, then he was attending prefects' meetings. When he wasn't advising second years on about how to join various clubs, then he was joining the Head Girl for their weekly tea with the staff. If he wasn't tutoring students of all ages in the library--

Tutoring.

In the library.

As one of the older students, any tutoring session Marcus received would be scheduled later in the evening.

Professor Snape would no doubt be shocked by his request to be tutored by a Gryffindor, but Marcus knew that the head of Slytherin would do just about anything to keep him from disgracing their House yet again.

"Perce?"

Percy ignored him and started shoving papers into his briefcase with such force that Oliver half-expected his fist to tear through the bottom.

"Who've you got in there, Percy?" Oliver asked mildly.

Percy sighed and sat heavily on his bed, dropping the briefcase on the floor next to it.

"What's the matter?"

"I just came back from a meeting with Professors MacGonagall and Snape."

"And..."

Percy opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. He glanced at Oliver as though he'd just realized where he was. "I...have to do some extra tutoring."

Oliver frowned, perplexed. Tutoring was one of the duties of the Head Boy and Girl and Oliver had certainly never heard Percy complain about it before. "How many more students?"

"One," Percy replied, confusing Oliver further.

"That all? Who?" Oliver suddenly recalled who the meeting was with. "Slytherin, then? Well, you're already tutoring some Slytherins, aren't you?"

"Yes, the Beaumont girl from fourth year and two second years."

"What's one more?"

Percy gave him a small, tight smile. "That one more would be Marcus."

"Flint?!" Oliver's lip curled at the mere mention of his name.

"Flint. Apparently, he's not going to make it through this year, either."

"Tell them you won't do it," Oliver said immediately.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Percy inquired of his canopy before shooting Oliver a withering look.

"Did you?" Oliver asked, impressed.

"I did mention that I wouldn't be the best tutor for him, but MacGonagall insisted that it was my duty as Head Boy. I did get the impression that it wasn't actually Snape's idea, but that didn't stop him from implying that he'd hold me personally responsible if Marcus failed again."

Oliver fell silent, knowing full well that there was no way for Percy to get out of his latest assignment. Percy began straightening up the mess he'd made, talking about it had calmed him down a bit, it seemed. Oliver contemplated the situation for several minutes before he felt a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Perce?"

"Hmmm?" Percy had already started on his Charms homework

"Could you give him all the wrong answers?"

Percy glared at him over the tops of his glasses. "I could not."

"Just thought I'd ask."

"Didn't you hear me say Snape would take it out on me if Flint doesn't do well?"

The twitch became a full-fledged grin at that comment. "How about scheduling his sessions during the times when Slytherin has the pitch booked?"

"Oliver Wood!" Percy put every ounce of censure his could muster into his voice. "You're the Captain of the House Team. That does carry some responsibility, you know. Fair play, sportsmanship..."

"Winning. You think the Slytherins wouldn't do the same thing given the chance?"

"That is not the point!"

"Remember what they did to Harry at the last game?" Oliver asked, his expression dark. "Dressing up like Dementors..." When he received no reply, he looked over to the other bed. "Perce?"

"Considering his marks, he probably will need to do a lot of extra work," Percy said, not looking up from his textbook.

That was enough to put the grin back on Oliver's face.

"Well, I suppose the important thing is that he's not causing you any trouble," Penelope agreed.

Percy gave her an appropriately grateful smile, wondering if she knew how dutiful she sounded. "I suppose. But even so, I still feel uncomfortable during most of the tutoring sessions."

"Of course you do, Percy. He is Slytherin after all."

Percy decided to let the subject drop. He was quite convinced that his unease around Flint had nothing to do with the "dark house." It had more to do with the fact that Marcus had never been well-behaved around Percy before, and instead took every opportunity to insult, mock or physically threaten him. There were few taunts during the tutoring sessions--Marcus barely spoke more than absolutely necessary. What there was was an unsettling intensity that emanated from the Slytherin, especially in his stare.

Percy had been hoping to discuss this with Penelope and have her reassure him there was undoubtedly a logical explanation for Marcus' behaviour. He certainly couldn't discuss it with Oliver, who would most certainly bring up the subject with Marcus, which would most certainly lead to another fight between the two. "I sent off my application to the Ministry yesterday."

This had the predictable effect of brightening Penelope's expression. "I'm so glad to hear that. I was beginning to worry that you had changed your mind about working there."

"Certainly not," Percy assured her. "I wanted everything just right. Have all my pixies in a row, so to speak."

"Which departments did you apply to?"

"Several. Oliver and I were working on our applications the other night and we decided to start with five, so he applied to five Quidditch teams and I applied to five departments."

Penelope's smile looked a bit strained. "Which departments, Percy?"

"Improper Use of Magic," Percy began listing them off on his fingers. "Wizengamot Administration, Magical Transportation, International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Mysteries. Oliver applied to the Falmouth Falcons, Montrose, Puddlemere United, Wigtown and--"

"Why in Merlin's name did you to apply to the Department of Mysteries?" Penelope frowned.

"Oh, that," Percy shook his head ruefully. "Well, originally, we had only chosen four each, but then Oliver said we should apply to one place that the other chose. He picked Mysteries for me and I put him on...the...um....Chudley...Canons." His speech became more halting as Penelope's eyebrows climbed higher and higher.

"Are you trying to tell me that you had Oliver Wood decide your future for you?" she demanded in a voice that could have frozen butterbeer.

Percy stifled a sigh and resigned himself to a long evening.

"Saw you and your bit of Ravenclaw having another fight this morning," Marcus interrupted the Head Boy's lecture on wizarding in the New World.

"...were actually Muggles." Percy ignored Marcus' words and continued with the History of Magic lesson. Marcus had been constantly making comments throughout this tutoring sessions and Percy had decided the only way to get through it was not to respond to the taunts. If anything, he felt a bit relieved that the Slytherin was acting normally again. "One of the major differences between American and European wizards is the influence of the Native tribes that already inhabited the Americas. Unlike the Muggle explorers--"

"Don't see how you put up with her, really. Ravenclaws are a stuck up lot."

"--Wizards chose to interact with various tribes in a friendly manner, thereby learning much of their magic. Now on--"

"Clearwaters are a proud bunch," Marcus smirked. "You think her father is going to let her marry a Weasley?"

Percy hesitated only a split-second before continuing. Marcus was being a bit more obnoxious than usual, but it was still nothing he couldn't deal with. "...On most NEWTS you'll be asked to discuss which differences between American and British spells are the result of Native influence."

"And just who do you think you're fooling, Weasley? Everyone at school had figured out you liked boys by your fifth year."

"The same question is sometimes asked in reference to Australian magic and the Aboriginal tribes..." Percy continued through gritted teeth.

"No one bothers to keep it a secret, so I don't know why you do," Marcus was leaning forward across the table. "Bloody Merlin, even that idiot Wood was surprised when you started dating a bird."

"Don't call Oliver an idiot!" Percy snapped. Abruptly, he stood. "Perhaps you'd get more work done on your own." He closed his history text and began gathering the parchments spread out on the table.

"Hey, Weasley," Marcus scowled. "You're supposed to be tutoring me. Sit down and do your job."

"Exactly. These sessions are for you to learn enough to pass your NEWTS the second time around, not to discuss my personal life." Percy stacked his other texts in a pile.

"Snape isn't going to like this."

"By all means, mention it to him," Percy looked down his nose at Marcus. "I'll be quite happy to discuss your progress--or lack thereof--with him," he was careful to keep his tone lofty and unconcerned, hoping that Marcus wouldn't call this particular bluff. When Marcus merely stared at him without speaking, Percy nodded and gathered up his books. "I trust you'll be better behaved at our next session," he said before stalking out of the library.

As he walked he internally berated himself for letting Marcus get to him. He really had to learn more self-control, he decided, especially if he was to work at the Ministry. Really though, Marcus had no right to call Oliver an idiot. Insulting Penelope is one thing--

Realization hit and Percy actually stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh dear.

Percy began walking and rationalizing at top speed. Marcus hadn't actually insulted Penelope, just said a few things about Ravenclaws and Clearwaters. Percy had known Oliver longer than Penelope--naturally he would defend an old friend. If word of Marcus' words had gotten back to Oliver there would have been yet another fight between the two--it was his duty as Head Boy to prevent such a thing.

By the time he got back to the dorm, Percy had logically and firmly convinced himself that there was nothing unusual about letting someone insult his girlfriend but not his year-mate.

Percy wasn't nearly as involved with that Ravenclaw as everyone seemed to think.

That was about the only thing that Marcus had learned after nearly two months of tutoring sessions with the Head Boy.

Everyone acted as though they fully expected Percy and Penelope to become engaged after Hogwarts and settle down to raise another Weasley brood. Often in the Great Hall, Marcus had seen the twins and youngest Weasley boy teasing Percy about marriage, and had watched as the only Weasley girl squealed over the prospect of wedding in a few years. Percy always yelled at his brothers and distracted his sister with another topic.

The only person who seemed as annoyed with the subject as Percy was Oliver Wood, and that always made Marcus smile. His desire for Percy no longer had anything to do with the Keeper, but if getting Percy meant getting something Wood also wanted, that would make his conquest all the sweeter.

And it was becoming obvious that a conquest was exactly what it would have to be. Although from time to time, Percy had given indications that he attracted to his own sex, he had never given the slightest indication that he could ever do anything more than tolerate Marcus--barely.

Marcus had several plans of action, and even more plans for the Head Boy once he was successful, but right now he knew he had to concentrate on the upcoming Quidditch Final.

"Most certainly, brother mine," George assured him happily.

"More for us, then, hey?" Fred added.

Percy rolled his eyes and continued up the stairs. Entering the seventh year dorm, he saw Oliver sitting on his bed, freshly showered and looking a bit dazed. "Oliver? Why aren't you down at the party?"

Oliver raised his head and Percy saw that unshed tears still sparkled in his eyes.

"Oliver..." Percy was sitting beside him without any consciousness of having crossed the room.

Oliver let out a watery chuckle at Percy's bewilderment. "I know. I know, I'm just...I'm all right, Perce."

"But..."

"I don't look all right?" Oliver finished for him.

"You look awful," Percy realized that sounded rather rude. "I mean, you look fine. You always do, but--" That wasn't what he meant to say at all. Percy cleared his throat and tried again. "I didn't expect you to still be, er, crying, I suppose."

The tears were all but gone now, Oliver looked amused and a bit speculative. "I'm still overwhelmed, I suppose. You know what all this means for me, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. It's the first time Gryffindor has won the Quidditch Cup since Charlie was here."

"For my career, Percy."

Percy blinked, and then said gamely, "It will appeal to the Quidditch teams naturally."

"As Captain of a team that had never won, the best I had to hope for was to work my way from one of the farm teams." Oliver jumped to his feet and began pacing. "As Captain of the winning team, I'm practically guaranteed second-string on a major league team. I can likely start on reserve for a major team, Perce." He became more animated as the reality of his situation set in. "That puts me three or four years ahead. Do you see?"

"Like a guaranteed pass on the NEWTS," Percy suggested.

Oliver laughed, and suddenly tears came to his eyes again. "I'm going to make it, Perce. I know it now. For a while I was starting to doubt..."

Percy stood, startled by this latest bit of information. He had always assumed that Oliver's determination at Quidditch brought with it the assurance of success. "You should have said something, Oliver. I could have told you that you had nothing to worry about. Of course you were going to make it."

"Really, Perce?" Oliver quirked an eyebrow. "Or would you have told me to study carefully so I would have something to fall back on?"

Percy opened his mouth, torn between denying Oliver's words and informing him it was only sensible, after all. He closed it again without having said anything.

Oliver laughed all the harder and drew Percy into a one-armed hug. "Thanks, Perce. What would I do without you?" he murmured before letting go.

Percy felt a flush rising in his cheeks. "Actually, I'm here for the sake of your Seeker."

"Harry?" Oliver blinked.

Relieved at having successfully distracted Oliver, Percy continued. "Ursula and Sarah were in the process of cornering him."

Oliver groaned and snickered at the same time, resulting in a bizarre sound. Ursula Faulkner and Sarah Lark were the only other seventh-year Gryffindors. They were like doting aunts who pinched cheeks and cooed over nephews to the point of illness. Lovers of all things "cute," they had been baby-talking the younger students since their fifth year. Harry Potter being more of a "poor little thing" than most, the pair doted on him most of all. Harry normally avoided them like the plague.

"Poor lad," Oliver muttered, getting to his feet. "Sad way to thank him for winning us the Cup."

"You won them the Cup, Oliver," Percy stood as well. "Harry may be brilliant, but you're the one who taught him Quidditch."

That speculative look flash across Oliver's features again, but it was replaced in an instant by the Keeper's usual grin. "Then let's go rescue him," he said and flung a companionable arm around Percy's shoulders again.

Percy blinked, briefly wondering what that had to do with the Transfiguration NEWT until Penelope's tone sank in as he realized some sort of discussion was forthcoming. "Did he?" he asked, uncertain as to what sort of response was required.

Penelope's lips tightened and Percy immediately knew that his response had been the wrong one. "Is that all you're going to say?"

Percy cast about for something else. "Did you accept?" When her eyes widened in surprise and abruptly narrowed, Percy knew trouble was looming. "Er...that is, were you planning to spend the last Hogsmeade weekend with fellow Ravenclaws?"

"I was planning on spending it with you, but perhaps you'd rather spend the last Hogsmeade weekend with fellow Gryffindors?"

"Certainly, if you--" Percy broke off when Penelope let out a strangled gasp. "Penny?"

Penelope began gathering her books and parchments together. "I suppose that's that, then. Isn't it, Percy?"

"Penelope, I'm not sure what you..."

"Oh, I think you are, Percy. I thought after Christmas that maybe you were just taking me for granted, but you actually don't care, do you?"

Percy felt a vague tightening in the pit of his stomach. "Penny, I'm sorry if..."

"Don't, Percy," she stood and looked down at him. "The letters you had written over the summer were so sweet that I thought for certain that cool exterior of yours was just a facade, but it's the letters that were a facade, wasn't it?"

Percy swallowed hard and glanced around nervously.

"I'm certainly not angry at you, Percy, if that's what you're worried about. Truth to be told, I feel rather sorry for you."

Percy felt his cheeks burn at her last words and abruptly focused on the table.

"Good-bye, Percy."

After she was gone, Percy was embarrassed to discover the strongest emotion he felt was gratitude that Penelope had the sense not to create a scene in the library. He quickly gathered his things together and stood up, heading for the door with the vague notion that telling Oliver about this would make him feel better. He was so intent on sorting out what had just happened and why that he didn't notice the footsteps behind him until a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"Threw you over, did she?"

Percy spun on his heel when he recognized Marcus' voice. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"I was in the library. I heard everything." Marcus took several steps toward the slighter youth.

Percy stepped back, not realizing he was allowing Marcus to crowd him against the wall. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you would actually study in the library."

Marcus' jaw tightened at the haughty tone and Percy thought for a moment that things might become nasty. Then the coarse features relaxed as the Slytherin smiled and Percy knew things were about to become nasty. He focused on a point over Marcus' shoulder and coolly waited for the taunting words to come and go so that he could continue on his way.

"You're better off without her, Percy."

Hearing his given name from the Slytherin surprised Percy so much that he abandoned his aloof pose and looked Marcus in the eye. What he saw there made him shift uneasily, and that movement brought home the fact that Marcus' hand had moved from his shoulder to his arm. He shifted again and the hand tightened. "Let go of me immediately," he ordered in his best Head Boy voice.

"You'd be better off with another guy, Percy. I could show you..."

Percy held his books in front of him like a shield and said the only thing he could think of--"Five points from Slytherin."

Marcus gave a throaty chuckle and leaned forward. "Let's go to the Perfect's Bathroom, and I'll convince you to give those points back." His hand slid back up Percy's arm and came to rest at the join of neck and shoulder.

It wasn't until Marcus' other hand began insinuating into his robes that Percy was able to snap out of his frozen shock. He abruptly shoved at the larger boy and it was sudden enough that Marcus was caught off guard. Putting several paces between himself and Marcus, Percy pulled out his wand and although he didn't point it at the Slytherin, his intent was unmistakable. "Keep away from me, Flint," he said icily. "And I suggest you tell Professor Snape that you no longer want to be tutored, otherwise I'll be forced to tell him why I can no longer tutor you."

Marcus eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything to contradict Percy.

"Good. Then we understand one another." Percy walked backwards down the hallway, with Marcus glaring dangerously at him the whole time. It wasn't until he turned the corner that would take him to the Gryffindor Tower that he faced forward again, and then it was all he could do to maintain his stride and not break into a run.

Once he reached the Fat Lady, he gave the password and the portrait made no reply as she let him in. The common room was crowded, but everyone gave him a wide berth, leaving Percy to wonder vaguely what sort of expression was on his face that made even Ron and Harry look uneasy. It wasn't until he'd reached the dorm room and that Percy discovered he hadn't managed to scare everyone off.

"What's wrong, Percy?" Oliver asked as he entered the room only moments after Percy had closed the door quite firmly behind him.

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" Percy asked in the most casual tone he could produce.

"You slammed the door like I've never heard before and you look..."

"I didn't slam the door. I don't slam doors."

Oliver snorted.

Percy turned to berate him further and realized his mistake when Oliver grabbed his arm in concern. "Oliver..."

"Percy, you're white as a sheet. What happened?" Oliver looked him up and down as if searching for injuries. "Perce...you're shaking..."

An image flashed through Percy's mind of what would happen if he told Oliver about his encounter with Marcus, and tempting though it was, Percy knew he had to be sure Oliver never found out. Then he suddenly remembered why he had wanted to see Oliver in the first place. "Penny and I broke up."

"I'm sorry."

Percy glanced at him and almost told Oliver that he certainly didn't look sorry. He looked concerned, but also relieved and maybe just a little bit hopeful. Percy heard himself continuing, even though he hadn't intended to say any more--"Just now. In the library. Obviously I got some answers wrong. I'm sure there's an irony in there somewhere."

"You might be better off without her, Percy." Oliver felt Percy start under his hands, but misunderstood the reason. "I'm sorry, Perce. I never got along with her, but obviously you--"

"Don't. Oliver, just give some time to myself, all right?"

"All right," Oliver gave Percy's arm one last squeeze. "I'll go back out for an hour or two, but I'll be here if you need me."

Percy managed a smile for him. "You always are, Oliver."

Weasley had turned him down.

Weasley had actually had the nerve to threaten to report him.

Weasley had the utter gall to nearly hex him.

Any one of these things might have made Marcus turn his attentions elsewhere. All three only made him more determined to get exactly what he wanted from the Head Boy.

Asking nicely obviously didn't do the trick.

Intimidation could very well get him expelled.

There were a few more tactics to try, but Marcus decided that he wouldn't be satisfied until he had pretty, perfect Percy completely at his mercy. After giving the matter much thought, the answer was surprisingly simple. Really, all that was required was a letter to his brother, Trajan, and a handful of galleons to pay whomever Trajan sent to meet him in Hogsmeade.

If someone had told him at the beginning of the year that he would be paying for the chance to get his hands on a Weasley, he would have laughed and then hexed the person. But nothing engaged Marcus Flint as much as prey that was threatening to escape. It wasn't even about Oliver Wood, anymore, although the Gryffindor captain would unwittingly be playing a part in his plan. No, this was entirely about Percy Weasley, who somehow had become more alluring with each standoffish, self-righteous speech he directed at Marcus.

Marcus wondered if Percy really knew that every time he took that prissy tone with Marcus, he was actually just begging for something else.

Begging to be broken.

Still, it was difficult to remain gloomy for very long on a balmy spring day, and their spirits had picked up on the walk back from Hogsmeade. When Roger Davies, Angelina and several other students approached Oliver for an impromtu game of Quidditch before dark, Percy encouraged his friend to go, reminding him it would be his last time on Hogwarts' pitch. After that he had returned to their dorm room alone but content and in an excellent frame of mind to settle into a NEWTS study session.

Percy was imersed so deeply in his books, that it took a tug on his hair to turn his attention to the owl that had flown into the dorm window. He smiled at the bird perched importantly on the edge of his desk. He knew it was one of the school owls because of the the four-colored band around it's right leg, and he looked at the little package held in it's beak curiously. "Have something for me, do you?"

When the owl hooted softly, the package plopped softly onto Percy's desk. "Thank you," Percy said to it, then rolled his eyes when the bird shifted from one foot to the other, obviously expecting to be paid. Percy got up to snag an owl treat from the package Oliver had left on his desk and handed it the messenger. "Really, it was just a quick trip from the owlery. Do you think it deserves a reward?"

The owl hooted again before taking the treat from Percy and flying out the window. Percy chuckled softly and turned back to the package on his desk. Opening it, he discovered several sherbet balls in some of his favorite flavors. His first thought was to toss them in the dustbin, assuming that the twins were up to there old tricks.

Rather simplistic for them, though. Certainly they don't think I'm idiot enough to fall for something like this? More disappointed than angry, he opened the note that accompanied the candy.

Percy,

Meet me under the Ravenclaw bleachers at midnight. I know it's after curfew, but I have to see you. It's important.

Enjoy the sherbets. Save a blackberry one for me.

Percy felt as though someone had grabbed him around the chest and squeezed. Taking several moments to catch his breath, he read the note again. There was no mistaking Oliver's scrawl. Percy wondered what was so important it couldn't be discussed in their dorm room. Unbidden, a tiny hope, one that had been gently but firmly suppressed since his fifth year, began to spark just under his breastbone.

It's important.

Perhaps-oh Merlin, please-those looks Oliver had cast towards him from time to time actually meant what Percy always hoped.

I have to see you.

Perhaps, Percy hardly dared hope, that...something that had always lay unspoken between them would finally be resolved.

At midnight.

Percy glanced at the clock on Oliver's nightstand. Half past ten. If he started now, he could finish his patrol well before midnight and have time to freshen up before heading for the Quidditch bleachers-of course, Oliver would choose the Quidditch bleachers rather than a more common place like the Astronomy Tower.

Abruptly, Percy shook himself. Don't be a prat. There's no guarantee that Oliver feels that way about you. Don't set yourself up for disappointment. Very deliberately, Percy set the candy down on his desk. Then his eye fell on the note again.

Save a blackberry one for me.

With a small smile, Percy popped a strawberry sherbet in his mouth, pocketed the rest and set out for his nightly patrol.

Percy felt guilty about abusing his position in such a manner, but told himself that it was necessary. Since Oliver was now out by the pitch, it was obviously his duty to go out there and bring the Quidditch Captain back in. If sometime during that process a secret dream of Percy's just happened to come true, well, that was just coincidence.

When he reached the Ravenclaw bleachers, Percy hesitated a moment before slipped from the darkness of Hogwarts' grounds into the utter blackness of the shadows under the bleachers. He considered casting lumos, and then discarded the thought just as quickly--he didn't want to attract any attention. "Oliver?"

A whisper of--"Torpeo inserstus," a flash of orange light and suddenly Percy was unable to hold himself upright. He would have hit the ground but for the big hands that pushed him back against the wall and the body that pressed up against him, holding him in place. It took only a split second to recognize Marcus Flint's voice casting the spell, but several moments more to recognize what had actually been cast. He tried the move his arms but the amount of effort that normally would have lifted them high in the air barely made his limbs twitch forward.

His first thought was that Marcus had followed him here, that he had to find some way to warn Oliver of Flint's presence and that all three of them were likely going to be found out and lose innumerable points for Gryffindor and Slytherin. Then he felt anger overtake him because Marcus had just ruined everything that might have happened between him and Oliver.

"Hello, Percy," Marcus wormed one arm behind Percy and settled even closer to the slighter body. "I see you got my note."

What little strength Percy had left after being hit with torpeo fled at those words, crushed under a wave of disappointment. The note wasn't from Oliver. The candy wasn't from Oliver. There was nothing important Oliver had to talk to him about. Anything "unspoken" between them had only been wishful thinking on Percy's part.

Then Percy felt one of Flint's hands come to rest at the curve of his neck and he realized that crushed hopes were the least of his problems. He opened his mouth to tell Marcus exactly what he thought of this prank, but he couldn't get more than a single syllable past his lips, and that only came out as a low moan.

Marcus chuckled at the sound and ran his thumb along Percy's cheek. "Nice and agreeable this time, aren't you?"

Percy felt rather than saw Marcus lean towards him for a kiss, and he reared back with all his might. All he succeeded in doing was turning his head slightly so that Marcus missed his mouth, but the message behind the slight movement was crystal clear.

Marcus snarled and his grip on Percy's jaw tightened painfully. "I was willing to go easy on you," he hissed, both hands now at the fastenings of Percy's robe. He thrust one leg between Percy's and leaned in close again. "But if you want to do this the hard way, that's fine by me."

A lamp had been left burning, casting enough light for Oliver to see that the room was empty. He assumed Percy had gotten up to use the toilet until he got close enough to see that Percy's bed curtains were open and the bed had not been slept in. Curious now, Oliver wondered if perhaps Percy had been called out for extra patrols because of this Sirius Black business. He remembered how Percy had rarely fallen asleep before dawn for weeks after Ron had been attacked, and began to worry that perhaps he'd missed hearing about another attack while he'd been cloistered away with the other Quidditch players. Lighting his wand, Oliver wandered over to Percy's desk to check if his friend had left a note to say he'd be late.

He found a single parchment and held it close to the wand light in order to read it. After blinking in disbelief several times, Oliver illuminated all the lights in the room in order to see the parchment better. The note asking Percy to be under the Ravenclaw bleachers was so obviously in his handwriting that Oliver had to wonder for a moment whether he'd actually written one. Deciding that someone had played a prank on Percy, he studied the parchment more closely, looking for flaws to indicate someone else's hand. The more he looked, the more convinced he was that it was his handwriting and he'd been obliviated at some point.

"Aperecio scriptor." Oliver tapped the parchment with his wand, half-expecting his own name to appear in glowing letters. Instead, the words faded slightly, then returned to normal.

Oliver frowned, uncertain what such a reaction meant. It didn't matter, he decided, all that concerned him was that Percy was expecting him to be at the Ravenclaw bleachers. Catching up the note again, he hurried from the dorm. He ignored the choice words he received from the Fat Lady for waking her, left Gryffindor Tower and rushed down to the front hall.

Jumping the last three steps of the main staircase, Oliver pulled up short when he heard a silky voice behind him. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Wood. And it will be one hundred if whatever excuse you give proves as pathetic as I expect."

Bloody hell. Oliver bit his tongue and turned around to face his doom. Coming across any professor was bad, but for that professor to be Snape made things ten times worse.

"Well, Mr. Wood?" Snape demanded. "I assume your blatant disregard for curfew has something to do with that parchment you're carrying." He held out a long-fingered hand expectantly.

Oliver's hand clenched convulsively around the parchment and he was suddenly seized with the wild desire to turn and run back to his dorm. But that would be the most un-Gryffindorish thing he could possibly do, so he reluctantly handed over the parchment. "Professor, I can explain..."

Snape held up one hand for silence as he read the note. "So," he said softly. "Two more Gryffindors who seem to believe that all these precautions being taken simply do not apply to them. A mass murderer and Dementors roaming the grounds of Hogwarts mean absolutely nothing if the Head Boy and the Quidditch Captain wish to plan themselves a midnight assignation."

Oliver felt a flush hit his cheeks. "It wasn't an assignation."

"Do tell," Snape sneered. "Then I suppose the intrepid duo of Wood and Weasley were out setting a trap for Sirius Black."

At the mention of the word trap, the memory of fourth year came back to Oliver, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. "I don't know what the reason for the note is, Professor. I didn't write it."

Snape blinked in astonishment, then his expression darkened. "Another twenty-five points from Gryffindor for lying, Mr. Wood. You seem to forget that I know your handwriting from seven years of lackluster essays."

Oliver barely caught himself before rolling his eyes--the man seemed determined to insult him with every breath. "I know it looks like my handwriting. Even I wondered about it. I did an aperecio scriptor on it to see who the prankster was."

Snape raised one eyebrow. "And?"

"Nothing happened. The words just faded in and out."

"What?"

Something in Snape's tone put Oliver on alert. "They just faded in and out," he nodded to the parchment. "Try it for yourself."

Snape did exactly that, and Oliver watched the odd result for a second time. Then Snape pinned him to the spot with a single, dark look. "Who would want to magically forge your handwriting, Wood?"

Oliver was struck speechless. "Forgery spells are illegal."

"I didn't ask for a recitation of Wizarding Law," Snape snarled. "Think, boy."

"I...I..." Oliver shook his head. "No one...not anyone who'd risk a year in Azkaban."

"Alert Professor McGonagall at once," Snape ordered. "I'll see to Mr. Weasley." He turned on his heel and strode out the front doors into the night.

Without hesitation, Oliver ran for McGonagall's chambers.

The rest of the night brought back even more painful memories of fourth year for Oliver, including the worst one of being shuffled aside and sent away without being told what was happening. He had to admit--to himself if no one else--that this time being sent back to the dorm was his own fault. Events were a bit hazy after he entered Dumbledore's office, saw Percy with his robes torn and jaw bruised, and then saw Marcus Flint bound to a chair on the other side of the room. The instant realization hit, red rage took over and he didn't really remember anything else until he was on his bed with McGonagall glaring down at him. The most maddening thing was that he had been hit with petrificus totalus only two seconds after he'd managed to lock his hands around Marcus Flint's throat.

McGonagall ordered him to stay put and actually put a locking spell on the door for good measure. Oliver was stung briefly by her lack of trust, but soon forgot it in his worry over Percy. What followed was one of the longest hours of his life, all of it spent pacing the length of the room like a caged lion. When he heard McGonagall's voice outside lifting the spell, he stopped short, watching the door expectantly. It opened slightly, and he could hear the low murmur of voices as McGonagall said a few more words to Percy, then Percy stepped inside.

Oliver was in front of him before Percy had even gotten the door shut. "Are you all right?" He made a grab for Percy's arm, but Percy backed away, coming up against the door. Oliver blinked and took a step back. "Sorry, I...sorry, Perce."

"It's all right," Percy said, his voice more controlled than Oliver had ever heard it. "I'm just going to get my bathrobe. I want to take a shower before I go to sleep."

"Here," Oliver hurried across the room and found Percy's faded bathrobe--one of Bill's old ones.

"I'm not an invalid, Oliver," Percy frowned as Oliver came back to his spot by the door. "But thank you."

"Percy--"

"Oliver, I'm very tired. I know you want to know what happened, but I'm sure you can wait until tomorrow. I'd really like to get some sleep before discussing it."

The cold, distant tone only bothered Oliver for a split-second. That was how long it took for him to see past Percy's closed expression to the pleading blue eyes. "I'll start a fire for when you get back." May was a bit late in the year to be using the fireplaces, but Oliver felt that a crackling blaze could be a great comfort.

Obviously Percy thought so, too, because the faintest smile touched his white lips. "Thank you, Oliver," he murmured before slipping back out of the room.

Percy stood under the hot spray only for a few seconds before slumping against the wall and sliding down. The shudders that began to course through him had nothing to do with the cold tile against his back. He drew his knees up and wrapped both arms around them in the vain attempt to stop his trembling, but soon realized that he was incapable of suppressing his shock and anxiety any longer. Silently, he gave himself permission to let go, hoping that getting everything out of his system tonight would mean that no one noticed anything odd about him tomorrow.

Thankful for the noise of the shower that would hide the sound of his tears at this late hour from professors, from other Gryffindors and most of all, from Oliver, he leaned his head back against the wall and let the tears fall. With water from the shower splashing over his face at the same time, he could almost pretend he wasn't crying at all.

It took Percy a long time to fall asleep that night, and much of his time lying awake was spent planning the ways he could avoid Oliver the next day and thereby avoid discussing the facts of the midnight meeting. It wasn't so much that Percy minded relating to Oliver what had happened, because as he saw it, not that much had happened. Snape had found them before Marcus had even gotten Percy's robes completely off. A few punishing kisses, a lot of hissing about what he was going to do and a thorough grope was all Marcus had time for before his Head of House immobilized him. Although the memory of Marcus' hands still made Percy's skin crawl, he knew things could have been much, much worse.

Nor was it the explosion that would occur when Oliver would find out that Percy had decided not to press charges against Marcus Flint for attempted rape and that the charges for forgery would probably not be pursued. Oliver would probably go on for at least an hour to try to convince Percy to change his mind, but Percy knew he could eventually talk his way out of it.

No, it was the questions that would likely come after Oliver had called Flint every nasty name in his repetoire that Percy wanted to avoid. Why did he go? Why hadn't he just sent Hermes to Oliver with a reply? Percy's stomach tied itself into an uncomfortable knot every time he thought of trying to answer those questions. What did he have to say that Oliver would want to hear? I thought you were going to declare your love for me, and I wanted everything perfect. My mind was so full of you that the thought of a return owl never occurred to me.

By the next afternoon, Percy realized that he was only delaying the inevitable. Really, he wouldn't put it past Oliver's tenacity to bring it up in the library during a study session. So instead, after lunch, he remained in their dorm room and sat still long enough for Oliver to actually talk to him.

"Are you really all right, Percy? I haven't had a chance to talk to you today."

Percy turned from where he was sitting at his desk. Although he still felt tired and would have preferred to be stretched out on his bed, he wasn't taking any chances on Oliver sitting so close to him. "I'm fine, Oliver. Really, after the torpeo inerstus was lifted, I didn't even have to see Madame Pomfrey." He nodded towards his trunk. "I've already repaired my clothes. Truth to tell, they were in far worse shape than I was."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Flint attacked you, Percy."

"I'm aware of that, Oliver," Percy replied dryly. "But Snape got there before he could really do anything. Truly."

Oliver grabbed his own chair, turned it the wrong way and straddled it. "Why did you go out there to meet me?" he asked, leaning his arms on the back. "You know how strict curfew has been."

Percy felt his mind go blank for a moment. What in Merlin's name was Oliver doing asking questions in the wrong order? He still hadn't thought of an appropriate answer for that one. Suddenly, inspiration struck--"Don't worry, Gryffindor won't be losing any points because of either of us. Even the ones Snape took from you were given back." When Oliver frowned at the change in subject, he added hastily, "Of course, they didn't deduct any from Slytherin, either."

That did it. "What? Why in Merlin's name not?" Oliver jumped up in outrage. " Never mind the forgery, which can get him a year in Azkaban, but he attacked you."

Percy took a deep breath. He wasn't looking forward to this, but it was preferable to the previous subject. "I...that is, I've decided not to lodge a complaint. There will be no charges."

Oliver froze, his back to Percy. Then slowly, he turned around. "You can't be serious."

"I most certainly am."

"Have you gone mad?" Oliver rushed back to the desk and loomed over Percy. "You? Marcus broke dozens of school rules and a load of laws and you're just going to overlook it? You."

"It's for the best, Oliver." Percy opened a textbook and looked down at it in the vain hope that Oliver would drop the subject.

Oliver grabbed the book away from him. "Don't, Percy. We aren't finished."

Percy sighed and dropped his head in his hands. He was getting perilously close to the very subject he wanted to avoid. All he could hope now was that Oliver would be satisfied with most of the truth. "Oliver, if I charged him, there would be a trial. Both he and I would have to take veritaserum." And there would be know way around the questions then.

"So? You did nothing wrong."

"I very blatantly broke curfew," Percy reminded him. "Once that fact became public record, the Headmaster would not be able to ignore it as he had so kindly agreed to do. With everything that's been going on, that's a very serious infraction, and he would have to revoke my position as Head Boy."

Oliver's angry expression began to fade into resignation. "I suppose he would."

"A black mark like that would mean disaster if I want a position at the Ministry."

"And you want to work at the Ministry," Oliver agreed.

"I've always wanted to work at the Ministry."

Oliver shook his head, his dissatisfaction obvious. "It's so wrong, Percy. After everything Flint's done..."

"It's not like he's completely getting away with it, Ol." Percy assured his disgruntled friend. "Snape was angrier than I've ever seen him at a Slytherin, and he devised the punishment."

"Nothing could be enough," Oliver sank back down in his chair. He was silent for several minutes before prompting--"What did Snape decide?"

"Marcus has to leave Hogwarts."

"That's it?"

"And all his records are being undone."

"What?"

"There will be no record that Marcus Flint ever attended Hogwarts. He'll have nothing to show for nearly eight years of work. For all intents and purposes, he has no education."

"So not that far off the truth, then," Oliver snorted. "That's not good enough."

"It's enough, Oliver," Percy replied firmly.

"Something like that might mean a lot to you, but I don't think he'll care much."

"His family will, to hear Snape tell it."

"I don't like it, Percy."

"It's for the best, Oliver," Percy said. "If I thought he was getting away with breaking the law, I would press charges, but he is being punished."

"Not enough."

Percy took off his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes. "It's humiliating, Oliver. I don't want Ron and the twins to know, I don't want my parents to know, and I certainly don't want Ginny to know. I don't want it all over the school so that the Slytherins have even more fodder to hurl at me. I'd rather you didn't know, truth be told, but there isn't anything I can do about that. I want to forget the whole thing happened. If that makes me a coward, and I think it probably does, alert the Sorting Hat, by all means."

"It doesn't make you a coward, Perce," Oliver said softly. "If you think it's enough... then it is. It's your decision."

Percy felt his heart lurch at the gentle tone. Ever since Snape arrived the night before, he had been trying to box up all those feelings the false note had freed, but had yet to get them under control. He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes.

"I won't bring it up again, if that's what you really want," Oliver continued. "But, Percy, if it keeps bothering you..."

"I'll tell you," Percy promised. "Merlin, as if there isn't enough going on this year. I just want to be able to concentrate on NEWTS. And you should too, Oliver." Percy put his glasses back on and turned to face him. "I know you'll be playing Quidditch and you don't need NEWTS for that, but if you get badly injured, you need some alternatives."

Oliver broke into a grin at the return of Percy's lecturing tone. "I wouldn't dare disobey an order from the Head Boy."

Percy had always imagined he would be happily nostalgic to be leaving Hogwarts. After all, he'd been hired by the Ministry, and if it wasn't exactly the department he'd wanted, the Department for International Magical Co-operation was an excellent place to begin his career. He had a great deal to look forward to, and absolutely no reason to feel as though there was a band of iron tightening around his chest--no reason at all. If he wasn't going to see Oliver every day for ten months out of the year any longer, well, that was just a part of growing up. And if the thought that he didn't know when he would see Oliver again was making him sick to his stomach, then that was something he would have to either overcome or learn to work around. And if his feelings for Oliver had deepened rather than subsided since Marcus Flint's plot, it was no one's fault but his own.

"Ginny asked me to tell you they're all ready to go, Percy."

Percy jumped at the sound of Oliver's voice.

Oliver chuckled softly at Percy's start of surprise. "Sorry. Thought you'd heard me come it. Reminiscing, were you?"

"Something like that."

Oliver stood next to Percy and surveyed the room from his perspective. "It is going to be odd not to be back here come September."

"Such is life," Percy replied. Perhaps if he kept his answers short, his trembling voice wouldn't be noticeable.

Oliver glanced out of him the corner of his eye. "Going to miss this old castle."

"Naturally."

"Going to miss the Quidditch pitch even more."

"Of course."

With another laugh and a shake of his head, Oliver turned towards Percy. "Going to miss you most of all, Perce," he said, engulfing the slighter man in a big hug. "No one lecturing me."

Percy wasn't sure if his sudden inability to breathe was because Oliver's hug was too tight or just because of Oliver's hug, but in the next minute he decided he didn't care. He returned Oliver's hug with a desperation born of fear. Fear that he'd never find a lover or even another friend as accepting of him and all his idiosyncrasies. Someone who seemed amused rather than annoyed by his obsession with rules and propriety. A sudden, horrible thought exploded in the pit of his stomach--I can't do this. If I have to go back to the Burrow at the end of every day instead of talking with Oliver, I'll never make it. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his forehead onto Oliver's shoulder.

Oliver became concerned when Percy's embrace tightened to a near-strangle and even more so when he felt his friend all but collapse against him. "Percy?" he pulled away slightly to try to catch Percy's eye.

Percy let out a shuddering sigh and stepped away, his gaze firmly on the floor.

Catching him by the shoulder with one hand, Oliver used the other to tip Percy's chin up. His heart gave an uncertain lurch when he saw the misery on Percy's face. "Perce, what is it?"

Then Percy met his eyes, and Oliver's heart went from a lurch to a leap so quickly it left him breathless. There was no mistaking the longing in the blue eyes, although for the briefest of moments Oliver thought he was imagining it as a fulfilment of his own unspoken hopes. He heard Percy's breath catch and knew a similar expression was on his own face. He leaned forward in preparation for a kiss, and Percy was there to meet him halfway.

Percy wrapped his arms around Oliver's chest and returned the kiss fiercely, clumsily; trying desperately to inject years of longing into what he was afraid would be a single moment.

Then Oliver cupped Percy's face in his big hands, pulling him back slightly, holding him still, gentling the kiss.

Percy broke away, panting like a man after a long race.

Oliver smiled at the wild look of the normally proper Head Boy--it was a mixture of fear, hope and lust that charged Oliver's libido even as it brought out his protective instincts. Oliver kissed the corner of the mouth that was tucked down in an uncertain frown. "How long, Perce?"

"The first time you stood up to Marcus...when you held me after Aidan died...when you helped my get through Ginny's disappearance...when you were worried about Harry...when you won the Quidditch Cup..." Percy shook his head, "Always," he whispered helplessly. "Always."

"Gods," Oliver laughed was more like a groan. "Brilliant Gryffindors we are. Since fifth year, I've wondered...I've wanted..." He kissed Percy again as a better means of explanation.

Someone hollering Percy's name outside their door made both men jump apart, then they smiled at their mutual alarm. Percy strode to the door and opened it to give Fred a few words about keeping his voice down.

"You stopped being Head Boy an hour ago," Fred pointed out.

"The carriages are here," Ginny added, appearing from behind Fred.

"I'll be down in a moment," Percy assured them, then shut the door gently but firmly in Ginny's face.

Oliver was there the moment the door closed, pulling Percy into his arms. "Why now?" he muttered between kisses. "Why couldn't we have found out weeks ago?"

"Years ago," Percy agreed, nuzzling Oliver's cheek, his jaw, any part he could reach. Then reality and the inevitable began to set in and Percy pressed his face into Oliver's neck. "I have to go," he words were muffled.

"I know," Oliver ran a hand through the bright hair. "And I'll be at scout camp for the next month."

"Can I owl you there?" Percy pulled away to meet his eyes.

"You'd better," Oliver smiled. "And the Quidditch World Cup in August..."

"Yes," Percy broke into a smile of his own and leaned forward for several more quick kisses. "The whole family is going."

Oliver saw the blue eyes flick regretfully to the door and was struck with a sudden inspiration. "I'll ride with you to Hogsmeade to see you onto the Express," he said, and was rewarded with a rare grin from the former Head Boy. "With any luck we can get a carriage to ourselves."

His mother threatened him with everything from being cut off without a knut to Crucio spell or two, but Marcus didn't let his mother's sharp tongue worry him any more. Unlike his parents and older sister, who were concerned that the loss of his Hogwarts records meant the end of any social standing in the wizarding world, Marcus couldn't care about his public appearance. When his mother's complaints became too annoying, he simply left home and moved into the Knockturn Alley flat where his brother lived and began looking around for the means to make a living.

Spells that required any degree of finesse had always been beyond Marcus' abilities. The straight-forward spells that required blunt, brute power on the other hand, he'd always excelled at. With brother Trajan's guidance, Marcus soon learned that with brute strength, flexible scruples and the right connections, a wizard could make an excellent living without a Hogwarts education.

Before too long, Marcus' life developed into a pattern very similar to what it had been at school. He still did what he wanted when he wanted, but now he didn't have to worry about professors breathing down his neck. What's more, he'd always prefered late hours, which was what his "freelance" work usually required.

Although Marcus still hadn't forgotten Percy Weasley, he had learned patience. Far better to deal with the elusive redhead after he was on his own and away from the protection Hogwarts afforded.

Marcus was determined, the next time they met, Percy have no escape.

End