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perpetual_motionTitle: After the End of the World
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post Book 7
Summary: What's there to do after the fact?
Disclaimer: Bullshit and lies.
After the End of the World
By Perpetual Motion
Oliver stays at Hogwarts longer than he means. He convinces himself that it’s because they need able-bodied people to help tend the injured, to help bury the dead, to help pass news of everything that’s happened at Hogwarts. But he spots Percy mid-day on the sixth day, back against a pillar at the top of a set of stairs, and he feels the twinge in his chest and knows he’s here for him; Percy Weasley, who showed his colors when it mattered most and lost a brother for his efforts. Percy Weasley, whose family accepted him straight back because he’s family and don’t place the blame he thinks he richly deserves.
“Perce,” Oliver says as he mounts the steps.
“Oliver,” Percy says, and Oliver notices it doesn’t have quite the precision or ring of authority Oliver remembers from their school days.
“Odd to see Neville in charge, innit?” Oliver uses as an opener. He doesn’t dare mention Fred straight out, afraid of what it will do to the shaky composure Percy’s carried for the last five and a half days. “I remember him much…geekier.”
“Yes,” but there’s no smile in Percy’s voice or on his face. “Ron has been telling me stories the past few days. Neville was part of the group that broke into the Ministry a couple of years ago.”
“You don’t say!” And Oliver finds himself laughing at the thought of it, because even with the evidence in front of him, Neville is still a shy, awkward boy in his memories. “Well!”
“Yes,” Percy says, and his voice wavers just a bit. “Quite impressive.” It’s a crack in the dented armor, and Oliver figures it’s now or never, time to jump while the door is cracked open.
“Percy, about Fred-”
“Please, don’t.” Dry and cracked, Percy’s face twisting, eyes squeezing closed, mouth pressed to one side. “I can’t. It’s not…he didn’t deserve it. I was right next to him, and he…” Percy looks away, but Oliver sees the tears in his eyes. “George…”
Oliver follows his line of sight, sees George showing off tricks and spells, desperation laced across his face, trying so hard, Oliver thinks, to forget the stark truth of his twin being very much dead. “George doesn’t blame you.”
“I know,” and Percy’s voice has gone bitterly cold. “No one seems to think I deserve it.”
“Why would you possibly-“
“I knew, Oliver. I knew from the moment Harry came back from that graveyard with that poor boy Cedric over his arm. I knew it was truth, all of it, and I ran away and cowered behind the robes of those oh-so-trustworthy spineless cretins at the Ministry, and I stayed there until the very last possible moment. I stayed while they set up tribunals and allowed for Snatchers. And I did nothing. I sat in my office and sorted my papers and watched people walk past crying and begging. I couldn’t even look my own father in the eyes on the lift.”
“Percy,” Oliver tries to interject, but Percy keeps going, talking as though he’s saying it for a Quik Quotes Quill to scribble down for prosperity.
“And there was my family, right in the thick. Fred and George proved themselves brilliant wizards with all their tricks and toys; Charlie and Bill were running about, delivering messages and hiding members of the Order. My parents protected Harry, Ron went on the whole grand adventure, and my baby sister helped set up the resistance in the school. I sat in my office and filed. I wrote memos. I nodded and smiled and led people to the rooms where Umbridge and her types told the Muggle-borns they were no good at all.”
“You came back, Percy,” Oliver says quietly, once he’s sure Percy’s done. “You showed up and you fought. It’s more than your parents ever hoped, probably.”
“More than they thought me capable, most likely.” Percy waves away the comment Oliver’s about to use in protest. “I’m mourning, Oliver. It allows for pity; even if it’s against myself.”
“You’re an idiot, Perce,” Oliver says with a smile that feels sad.
“I’m shocked that you’re surprised at all.” Percy’s smile is small but genuine.
“Come on,” Oliver says, slinging an arm around Percy’s bony shoulders. “You’ve been mourning for almost six days. Take a break with me.”
“From mourning?” Percy sounds like such a thing isn’t possible.
“From active mourning. I’m running into Hogsmeade to pick up some supplies. Come with me, get away from here. This,” Oliver gestures to the whole of the castle and ground with one graceful wave of his arm, “isn’t where you want to be right now. You can remember Fred just as well in Hogsmeade. You can be miserable just as well in Hogsmeade.”
“My parents-“
“Three hours, Perce. Tell them I need a second set of hands. Come on, you can’t wallow here.”
“I certainly can,” and Oliver hears the stuffy, uneasy Percy of his schooldays. “What will people think,” Percy asks, “my going into town while the rest of my family mourns?”
“They’ll think, ‘Oh, look, Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood are going into town’. If they think of you at all, of course.” Oliver gives Percy his best amused grin. “Things are a bit busy here, if you hadn’t noticed, and whatever your delusions of grandeur, you really aren’t that important.” It’s a risky gambit, taking such a swing, but Percy smiles just a little, pushes his glasses up his nose, and walks towards his parents.
“Stay here,” he says to Oliver over his shoulder. “I should be just a minute.”
Oliver crosses his arms and waits. He can see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley perfectly, and he realizes suddenly why Percy had been standing just so. He tucks his smile away for later and keeps his eyes on Percy. His chest tightens at the way Mrs. Weasley hugs him goodbye, and Oliver tries to shake off the feeling as Percy approaches him again. “All set?” His voice sounds perfectly normal to his own ears.
“Mum wants us to pick up some sweets if we can find any. She thinks it’ll help the younger ones.” Percy’s mouth quirks a bit on the right side. “Of course, if you’d asked her a week ago, she’d have probably said the same.”
“Always liked your mum,” Oliver says, and puts his hand under Percy’s elbow to lead him out the door.
They walk in silence, Oliver cautious of upsetting Percy, who is obviously lost in his own thoughts. They’ve just spotted Hogsmeade on the horizon when Percy speaks.
“I remember…” he starts and falters. He looks at Oliver and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”
“You can tell me later.”
”I don’t know – have you ever lost anyone, Oliver?”
Oliver blinks at the question. He blinks again at the intense look he’s getting from Percy. “Do you mean in my family?”
“Yes.”
“My gran passed when I was small, but other than that, no.” Oliver almost misses when Percy suddenly pitches forward. It’s a swift dive that saves Percy from collapsing in a heap. “Perce?”
“Sorry,” Percy says weakly and presses his forehead against Oliver’s shoulder. “I’m very tired, suddenly.”
Oliver looks around. They’re alone, but there’s a tree nearby. He tugs at Percy’s shoulder to get him moving and settles them against the trunk, Percy no more than a bit of weight against his side. “It’s been a long week,” Oliver says after a measured silence. He gets no answer and looks down. Percy’s asleep against his shoulder. “Of course,” he says to no one and pushes Percy’s hair off of his face.
“Idiot,” he says fondly. “Thought maybe I could see a little hope on this walk by telling you I wanted to take you to dinner. Highly inappropriate timing, I know, but I’ve never been great with that anyway.”
Oliver rubs his fingers over the back of Percy’s neck and looks at Percy from a range of six inches. There are bags under Percy’s eyes and tension lines are still visible around his mouth. Oliver wonders if Percy’s bothered to sleep in the last six days.
“Probably not,” he says aloud because he can’t berate Percy otherwise. “You probably see it as your just punishment for crimes that weren’t yours in the first place.”
“My fault,” Percy mumbles against Oliver’s shoulder. “I should-“
“Shut up, Perce,” Oliver interrupts. “Just take your nap.”
“Dinner,” Percy says, his voice more distinct. He opens his eyes and looks at Oliver. “You were going to ask me to dinner?”
“Are you awake, or am I going to find out that you’re just responding in your sleep?”
“I’m awake.” Percy pulls himself away from Oliver and rubs at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. “And I have too, slept.”
“Not much I’d bet.” Oliver smirks when Percy doesn’t quite look at him. “And, yes, I was going to ask you to dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.” Oliver reaches out a hand and straightens Percy’s glasses for him. He presses his fingers to Percy’s cheek. “Because the end of the world isn’t your fault, and someone needs to tell you that.”
Percy doesn’t say anything, but tears roll down his face. He sits very still and tries to form words a few times. “Oliver,” he finally gets out in a whisper.
“None of this is your fault, Percy.” Oliver slides over and pulls Percy against him again. “And I know your parents have said it. I know your siblings have said it. I know that George, specifically, has said it. And I know you haven’t listened to a damned word.”
“I could-“
“You couldn’t. And anyone who thinks you could have changed what happened anywhere is an idiot. You’re one person, Percy-“
”So’s Harry.”
“Harry’s an idiot,” Oliver says without pause. “Harry was also informed from the time he was eleven that he was expected to save us. You’re just Percy Weasley. You did what you could.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“Of course not. Because you’re Percy Weasley.” Oliver presses his lips to the top of Percy’s head. “And that’s good enough, okay?” Oliver pokes Percy when he doesn’t get an answer. “Okay?”
“Yes,” Percy says after a pause. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “This doesn’t fix it, Oliver.”
“I know, but I figure it’s good for a start.”
“I think it is.”
“Good.” Oliver stands and offers Percy a hand up. “Come on. We’ve got obligations.” He curls his fingers around Percy’s after he stands and doesn’t let go.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post Book 7
Summary: What's there to do after the fact?
Disclaimer: Bullshit and lies.
After the End of the World
By Perpetual Motion
Oliver stays at Hogwarts longer than he means. He convinces himself that it’s because they need able-bodied people to help tend the injured, to help bury the dead, to help pass news of everything that’s happened at Hogwarts. But he spots Percy mid-day on the sixth day, back against a pillar at the top of a set of stairs, and he feels the twinge in his chest and knows he’s here for him; Percy Weasley, who showed his colors when it mattered most and lost a brother for his efforts. Percy Weasley, whose family accepted him straight back because he’s family and don’t place the blame he thinks he richly deserves.
“Perce,” Oliver says as he mounts the steps.
“Oliver,” Percy says, and Oliver notices it doesn’t have quite the precision or ring of authority Oliver remembers from their school days.
“Odd to see Neville in charge, innit?” Oliver uses as an opener. He doesn’t dare mention Fred straight out, afraid of what it will do to the shaky composure Percy’s carried for the last five and a half days. “I remember him much…geekier.”
“Yes,” but there’s no smile in Percy’s voice or on his face. “Ron has been telling me stories the past few days. Neville was part of the group that broke into the Ministry a couple of years ago.”
“You don’t say!” And Oliver finds himself laughing at the thought of it, because even with the evidence in front of him, Neville is still a shy, awkward boy in his memories. “Well!”
“Yes,” Percy says, and his voice wavers just a bit. “Quite impressive.” It’s a crack in the dented armor, and Oliver figures it’s now or never, time to jump while the door is cracked open.
“Percy, about Fred-”
“Please, don’t.” Dry and cracked, Percy’s face twisting, eyes squeezing closed, mouth pressed to one side. “I can’t. It’s not…he didn’t deserve it. I was right next to him, and he…” Percy looks away, but Oliver sees the tears in his eyes. “George…”
Oliver follows his line of sight, sees George showing off tricks and spells, desperation laced across his face, trying so hard, Oliver thinks, to forget the stark truth of his twin being very much dead. “George doesn’t blame you.”
“I know,” and Percy’s voice has gone bitterly cold. “No one seems to think I deserve it.”
“Why would you possibly-“
“I knew, Oliver. I knew from the moment Harry came back from that graveyard with that poor boy Cedric over his arm. I knew it was truth, all of it, and I ran away and cowered behind the robes of those oh-so-trustworthy spineless cretins at the Ministry, and I stayed there until the very last possible moment. I stayed while they set up tribunals and allowed for Snatchers. And I did nothing. I sat in my office and sorted my papers and watched people walk past crying and begging. I couldn’t even look my own father in the eyes on the lift.”
“Percy,” Oliver tries to interject, but Percy keeps going, talking as though he’s saying it for a Quik Quotes Quill to scribble down for prosperity.
“And there was my family, right in the thick. Fred and George proved themselves brilliant wizards with all their tricks and toys; Charlie and Bill were running about, delivering messages and hiding members of the Order. My parents protected Harry, Ron went on the whole grand adventure, and my baby sister helped set up the resistance in the school. I sat in my office and filed. I wrote memos. I nodded and smiled and led people to the rooms where Umbridge and her types told the Muggle-borns they were no good at all.”
“You came back, Percy,” Oliver says quietly, once he’s sure Percy’s done. “You showed up and you fought. It’s more than your parents ever hoped, probably.”
“More than they thought me capable, most likely.” Percy waves away the comment Oliver’s about to use in protest. “I’m mourning, Oliver. It allows for pity; even if it’s against myself.”
“You’re an idiot, Perce,” Oliver says with a smile that feels sad.
“I’m shocked that you’re surprised at all.” Percy’s smile is small but genuine.
“Come on,” Oliver says, slinging an arm around Percy’s bony shoulders. “You’ve been mourning for almost six days. Take a break with me.”
“From mourning?” Percy sounds like such a thing isn’t possible.
“From active mourning. I’m running into Hogsmeade to pick up some supplies. Come with me, get away from here. This,” Oliver gestures to the whole of the castle and ground with one graceful wave of his arm, “isn’t where you want to be right now. You can remember Fred just as well in Hogsmeade. You can be miserable just as well in Hogsmeade.”
“My parents-“
“Three hours, Perce. Tell them I need a second set of hands. Come on, you can’t wallow here.”
“I certainly can,” and Oliver hears the stuffy, uneasy Percy of his schooldays. “What will people think,” Percy asks, “my going into town while the rest of my family mourns?”
“They’ll think, ‘Oh, look, Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood are going into town’. If they think of you at all, of course.” Oliver gives Percy his best amused grin. “Things are a bit busy here, if you hadn’t noticed, and whatever your delusions of grandeur, you really aren’t that important.” It’s a risky gambit, taking such a swing, but Percy smiles just a little, pushes his glasses up his nose, and walks towards his parents.
“Stay here,” he says to Oliver over his shoulder. “I should be just a minute.”
Oliver crosses his arms and waits. He can see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley perfectly, and he realizes suddenly why Percy had been standing just so. He tucks his smile away for later and keeps his eyes on Percy. His chest tightens at the way Mrs. Weasley hugs him goodbye, and Oliver tries to shake off the feeling as Percy approaches him again. “All set?” His voice sounds perfectly normal to his own ears.
“Mum wants us to pick up some sweets if we can find any. She thinks it’ll help the younger ones.” Percy’s mouth quirks a bit on the right side. “Of course, if you’d asked her a week ago, she’d have probably said the same.”
“Always liked your mum,” Oliver says, and puts his hand under Percy’s elbow to lead him out the door.
They walk in silence, Oliver cautious of upsetting Percy, who is obviously lost in his own thoughts. They’ve just spotted Hogsmeade on the horizon when Percy speaks.
“I remember…” he starts and falters. He looks at Oliver and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”
“You can tell me later.”
”I don’t know – have you ever lost anyone, Oliver?”
Oliver blinks at the question. He blinks again at the intense look he’s getting from Percy. “Do you mean in my family?”
“Yes.”
“My gran passed when I was small, but other than that, no.” Oliver almost misses when Percy suddenly pitches forward. It’s a swift dive that saves Percy from collapsing in a heap. “Perce?”
“Sorry,” Percy says weakly and presses his forehead against Oliver’s shoulder. “I’m very tired, suddenly.”
Oliver looks around. They’re alone, but there’s a tree nearby. He tugs at Percy’s shoulder to get him moving and settles them against the trunk, Percy no more than a bit of weight against his side. “It’s been a long week,” Oliver says after a measured silence. He gets no answer and looks down. Percy’s asleep against his shoulder. “Of course,” he says to no one and pushes Percy’s hair off of his face.
“Idiot,” he says fondly. “Thought maybe I could see a little hope on this walk by telling you I wanted to take you to dinner. Highly inappropriate timing, I know, but I’ve never been great with that anyway.”
Oliver rubs his fingers over the back of Percy’s neck and looks at Percy from a range of six inches. There are bags under Percy’s eyes and tension lines are still visible around his mouth. Oliver wonders if Percy’s bothered to sleep in the last six days.
“Probably not,” he says aloud because he can’t berate Percy otherwise. “You probably see it as your just punishment for crimes that weren’t yours in the first place.”
“My fault,” Percy mumbles against Oliver’s shoulder. “I should-“
“Shut up, Perce,” Oliver interrupts. “Just take your nap.”
“Dinner,” Percy says, his voice more distinct. He opens his eyes and looks at Oliver. “You were going to ask me to dinner?”
“Are you awake, or am I going to find out that you’re just responding in your sleep?”
“I’m awake.” Percy pulls himself away from Oliver and rubs at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. “And I have too, slept.”
“Not much I’d bet.” Oliver smirks when Percy doesn’t quite look at him. “And, yes, I was going to ask you to dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.” Oliver reaches out a hand and straightens Percy’s glasses for him. He presses his fingers to Percy’s cheek. “Because the end of the world isn’t your fault, and someone needs to tell you that.”
Percy doesn’t say anything, but tears roll down his face. He sits very still and tries to form words a few times. “Oliver,” he finally gets out in a whisper.
“None of this is your fault, Percy.” Oliver slides over and pulls Percy against him again. “And I know your parents have said it. I know your siblings have said it. I know that George, specifically, has said it. And I know you haven’t listened to a damned word.”
“I could-“
“You couldn’t. And anyone who thinks you could have changed what happened anywhere is an idiot. You’re one person, Percy-“
”So’s Harry.”
“Harry’s an idiot,” Oliver says without pause. “Harry was also informed from the time he was eleven that he was expected to save us. You’re just Percy Weasley. You did what you could.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“Of course not. Because you’re Percy Weasley.” Oliver presses his lips to the top of Percy’s head. “And that’s good enough, okay?” Oliver pokes Percy when he doesn’t get an answer. “Okay?”
“Yes,” Percy says after a pause. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “This doesn’t fix it, Oliver.”
“I know, but I figure it’s good for a start.”
“I think it is.”
“Good.” Oliver stands and offers Percy a hand up. “Come on. We’ve got obligations.” He curls his fingers around Percy’s after he stands and doesn’t let go.
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