Fanfic; Two of a Kind (Oliver, Percy friendship)
Title: Two of a Kind
Pairing: Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley friendship (if that)
Rating: G
Warning: -
Word Count: 2 186
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that appear in this fanfic, or anything else related to HARRY POTTER that may appear in this fanfic.
Comments: Ahaha, first fic in what feels like at least a year and it's... this?
Summary: Percy's quiet afternoon is interrupted by an exhausted Oliver Wood's entrance into the 7th year boy's dormitory. Kicking off a conversation made for pure courtesy, Percy discovers that he and the Quidditch Captain were not all that different.
***
Percy Weasley sat alone in the boy’s dormitory, his shoes sat neatly next to the trunk at the end of his four-poster bed and his legs stretched across his mattress, one folded on top of the other. He hummed tunelessly to himself, nose in a novel he had picked at random in the library for some light reading.
He was quite enjoying the peace until the door to the dormitory was pushed open forcefully and Oliver Wood slumped in. Percy’s burly fellow seventh year staggered into the room with his robes hanging off one shoulder and an extremely tired expression on his face. Percy glanced over his book to watch Oliver as he threw his Quidditch uniform haphazardly into his trunk then placed his broomstick, with slightly more care, on top of the heap. He didn’t make any note that he realized Percy was in the room before falling face first onto his bed; Percy was sure he heard a muffled curse after Oliver’s face hit the pillow.
“Rough practise?” Percy asked, turning his attention back to his book, he wasn’t particularly interested but it seemed courteous.
Oliver and Percy did not exactly run in the same friendship circles; one was Head Boy aiming to enter the Ministry and the other one was Captain of the Quidditch team, his life dedicated to nothing but the sport. That wasn’t to say the two didn’t know each other, or that they didn’t like each other- they were in the same year, same house and resided in the same dormitory. Between this and their statuses within the school, it was impossible for them to not know each other on some level. Still, being as different as they were, it was only on the rarest of the occasions that the two held an actual conversation.
There was a muffled answer from the pillow and Percy looked at Oliver, raising an eyebrow. Oliver turned into head to look at Percy, half of his face still buried in the pillow.
“Bludger to the head,” Oliver muttered. “You tell me.”
Percy slammed his book shut, his eyes widened dangerously and his nostrils flared. Not that he was a Quidditch expert, but Percy knew that a Bludger related accident meant poor efforts of a Beater, or Beaters, and the idea of a sentence where Gryffindor Beaters and accident were involved set off alarm bells in Percy’s head.
“It wasn’t them,” Oliver said loudly before Percy could comment, rubbing the back of his head sorely. “In fact, they caught me when I fell off my broom.”
Percy quickly deflated, he was rather relieved to hear his younger brothers had not been reckless and injured someone. Again.
No, he and Oliver weren’t close so it wasn’t Percy’s biggest concern if Oliver had been injured, but anything that the twins did would lead back to him, Percy, and that would only damage his image when he applied for a job at the Ministry.
“Shouldn’t you be in the hospital wing then?” Percy said coolly, flipping through the pages of his book to find his page again.
“Meh,” Oliver shrugged. “I’ll just sleep it off.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“Shut up.”
Percy turned his attention back to his book (not that he was taking Oliver’s order or anything) ignoring the occasional groan from the bed next to him. Oliver soon flipped himself over, with quite the amount of effort by the sound of it, kicked his shoes off dangerously and lay there facing the ceiling. There were minutes of silence; the only sound in the room was Percy turning a page. After about five minutes, Percy thought that maybe Oliver had fallen asleep but he looked over to find he was wide-awake with his eyes concentrated on the ceiling.
“Are you alright?”
Oliver took a moment to respond but turned his head, mouth hanging open for a moment, “Huh?”
“I said, are you alright?” Percy repeated slowly. “How hard did that Bludger hit you?”
It seemed like a stupid question, Percy thought after the words left his mouth. He had never personally been hit by one of the insane sport balls, but Percy had been to enough matches and around enough Quidditch players to understand that any sort of contact with the ball would be considerably painful. Oliver slowly registered the question and shrugged again. This carelessness for his own health and safety was starting to bug Percy. Recklessness like this on the Quidditch pitch was one thing, but if he were this careless elsewhere, say in a Muggle inhabited area, it could cause harm to the entire wizarding community.
“Well it wasn’t like Fred or George hit it at me, so it could’ve been worse. Fred was aiming it at Katie when she came to score, but he missed or she swerved, I don’t really remember,” Oliver rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Anyway, it went right past me. I was concentrating on stopping Katie and the Bludger must have been coming back around, I didn’t notice and bam.”
The tone of his voice suggested that Oliver found being hit in the head like that perfectly normal, as if it wasn’t the first time (then again, Percy thought, there was that time after Oliver’s first match in their second year) this had happened. Oliver continued in a bored voice, eyes still on the ceiling.
“I blacked out after that, pretty sure I swung around once on my broom before just falling straight off. Woke up a bit later on the field, I wasn’t out for long.”
Oliver took a hand and rubbed the back of his head.
“Still hurts like hell though.”
“I would assume so,” Percy said matter-of-factly. “You should go see Madam Pomfrey though, it’s likely you have a concussion.”
“If I go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey I was hit by a Bludger, she’ll keep me in there for days like last time-”
“You were in a coma last time!”
Oliver waved Percy’s comment off with his other hand. “Fact is, I’m going to lose precious training time if I go to her.”
Percy rolled his eyes angrily, closing his book again and placing it on his bedside table and setting his Head Boy badge (which had been sitting next to his lamp) down on top of it. Oliver watched him lazily and took off his own team Captain badge and dropped it lazily onto the table. Percy knew very well that Oliver saw the way he was glowering at the way he, Oliver, had so casually thrown his badge aside. It happened any and every time the two took their badges off in front of each other.
“Just a badge, Percy,” Oliver said, not attempting to hide his smirk.
“It is not just a badge! It is a symbol of leadership bestowed upon you by the Professors because they believed you held the ability to carry the responsibilities that badge entails! It is an outward representation of-don’t change the subject!” Percy fumed, having sat up to deliver his speech in which Oliver only grinned more.
“I’m kidding, would you relax for once?” Oliver said.
Percy continued to sit there, nostrils slightly flared and his cheeks hot, but he took a deep breath before lying back onto his bed, twisting his fingers together onto his stomach. Percy could never accuse Oliver of not caring about his position because the Quidditch Captain did appear to take the role just as seriously as the Head Boy. The only difference was that Oliver only cared about being a Captain that led his team to victory. He didn’t care about responsibilities of being a role model, he didn’t care what he or his team had to do to obtain victory and he certainly didn’t care about showing off his position to the rest of the school.
Not that Percy was show off. Never.
“I was relaxing before you came in, thank you very much,” Percy said bitterly.
“You were reading; why didn’t you do it down in the common room?” Oliver asked, turning to lie on his side, propping himself up on one elbow and digging his chin into his palm.
“Too noisy,” Percy said flatly. “And I was only doing some recreational reading so the library didn’t seem appropriate. Besides it was full of first years.”
“You need a new recreational activity,” Oliver smirked.
“Excuse me if I don’t want to spend my life being hit in the head by Bludgers,” Percy snapped back.
“Just because you can’t tell one end of a broom from another!”
“I was-it wasn’t-I was eleven, Oliver!”
“So was I, you didn’t see me hold my broom so awkwardly that I fell off the other end, did you?” Oliver looked at Percy, lifting an eyebrow.
Percy’s ears were now so bright that they almost blended in with his hair. He folded his arms angrily across his chest then daringly looked at Oliver. When Oliver caught his eye, Percy looked away quickly.
“I… I didn’t think you would remember that,” Percy muttered softly.
Oliver gave a small shrug with one shoulder and turned to roll over on his bed so that he was facing the ceiling again.
“It was our first flying lesson, of course I remember,” Oliver said in a small voice that sounded like he was more thinking out loud than talking to Percy.
A vacant look washed over Oliver’s eyes, his head suddenly seemed to be in some far off place. Percy watched him apprehensively as the twinge of anger he was feeling before slowly faded away. This was probably the first time Percy and Oliver had spoken to each other this long outside of class. Percy had never noticed how polar opposite the two of them were until now. Percy was always the one with his nose in a book and Oliver on a broom in the air. But still, Percy knew Oliver well enough to know that it wasn’t like the Quidditch Captain to zone out half way through a conversation. If you could call the substance-free banter they were having a conversation.
Even if he was reminiscing about their first flying lesson here at Hogwarts (a day Percy personally tried to forget), it had to be a solid minute after Oliver had gone silent and worry crept up on Percy again.
“Oliver?”
“Huh?” Oliver snapped his head up and quickly grabbed the back of his neck. “Ow!”
“Honestly, go see Madam Pomfrey! Because if you pass out on the way down the stairs, I’m not catching you!” Percy said with a heavy sigh.
“I told you, I’m not missing out on any practise sessions! This is my last chance to win the cup and I’m not letting some headache take that away from me!”
“I want that cup as much as you do-”
“I doubt that,” Oliver snorted.
“-but you have to be logical,” Percy pressed on as though Oliver had not interrupted. “If you do not have yourself seen to now, it could cause lasting damage. What happens if you survive the next few practise sessions and black out during a match? How will you feel after Gryffindor loses because their Captain was too proud to go get his head checked?!”
“Since when did you worry about me so much?” Oliver replied, the same snappish tone back in his voice.
“Merlin! I apologise then if I worry a little about the person I’ve been sharing a dormitory with for the last six years! And it's a little hard not to worry about a person that walks into a room only to drop half dead onto his bed!”
Oliver obviously wanted to argue but either the words were caught in his throat or the pain had taken over because the next moment he lay back on his bed, hissing. Percy noticed quickly and took his glasses off, setting them next to his badge. He crossed over to Oliver’s bed and looked at him. Oliver had one hand pressed against his forehead and his teeth were clenched together.
“I can bet the cup you have a concussion, if you go to the hospital wing now, more than likely you’ll be out in less than two days. You don’t have practise again until Saturday, right?”
It was genuine concern that Percy was acting on now. Whether they were good friends or just polite classmates, Percy was hardly going to ignore someone that was lying in front of him, clearly in pain.
“Memorised my schedule now, have you?” Oliver muttered.
“Memorised Fred and George’s schedule so I know where they are and what they’re up to,” Percy corrected.
“Right, well, can I at least have a nap before I go, Head Boy? Because otherwise I might actually pass out on the stairs.”
“Fine, I’m going to ask Fred how long you were out seeing as you don’t seem to have a clue,” Percy straightened himself up and crossed the room.
“Hey Percy,” Oliver called.
Percy turned around just as he had reached the door and looked at Oliver curiously.
“Thanks, mate.”
A/N: First time writing them seriously, even though the idea started off as just banter and had to grow around that. Oliver's really hard to write because we've never seen him do anything but spaz about Quidditch... I'd like to improve on writing him!
Hello to anyone from tumblr, I'm iceeyu there 8D
Pairing: Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley friendship (if that)
Rating: G
Warning: -
Word Count: 2 186
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that appear in this fanfic, or anything else related to HARRY POTTER that may appear in this fanfic.
Comments: Ahaha, first fic in what feels like at least a year and it's... this?
Summary: Percy's quiet afternoon is interrupted by an exhausted Oliver Wood's entrance into the 7th year boy's dormitory. Kicking off a conversation made for pure courtesy, Percy discovers that he and the Quidditch Captain were not all that different.
***
Percy Weasley sat alone in the boy’s dormitory, his shoes sat neatly next to the trunk at the end of his four-poster bed and his legs stretched across his mattress, one folded on top of the other. He hummed tunelessly to himself, nose in a novel he had picked at random in the library for some light reading.
He was quite enjoying the peace until the door to the dormitory was pushed open forcefully and Oliver Wood slumped in. Percy’s burly fellow seventh year staggered into the room with his robes hanging off one shoulder and an extremely tired expression on his face. Percy glanced over his book to watch Oliver as he threw his Quidditch uniform haphazardly into his trunk then placed his broomstick, with slightly more care, on top of the heap. He didn’t make any note that he realized Percy was in the room before falling face first onto his bed; Percy was sure he heard a muffled curse after Oliver’s face hit the pillow.
“Rough practise?” Percy asked, turning his attention back to his book, he wasn’t particularly interested but it seemed courteous.
Oliver and Percy did not exactly run in the same friendship circles; one was Head Boy aiming to enter the Ministry and the other one was Captain of the Quidditch team, his life dedicated to nothing but the sport. That wasn’t to say the two didn’t know each other, or that they didn’t like each other- they were in the same year, same house and resided in the same dormitory. Between this and their statuses within the school, it was impossible for them to not know each other on some level. Still, being as different as they were, it was only on the rarest of the occasions that the two held an actual conversation.
There was a muffled answer from the pillow and Percy looked at Oliver, raising an eyebrow. Oliver turned into head to look at Percy, half of his face still buried in the pillow.
“Bludger to the head,” Oliver muttered. “You tell me.”
Percy slammed his book shut, his eyes widened dangerously and his nostrils flared. Not that he was a Quidditch expert, but Percy knew that a Bludger related accident meant poor efforts of a Beater, or Beaters, and the idea of a sentence where Gryffindor Beaters and accident were involved set off alarm bells in Percy’s head.
“It wasn’t them,” Oliver said loudly before Percy could comment, rubbing the back of his head sorely. “In fact, they caught me when I fell off my broom.”
Percy quickly deflated, he was rather relieved to hear his younger brothers had not been reckless and injured someone. Again.
No, he and Oliver weren’t close so it wasn’t Percy’s biggest concern if Oliver had been injured, but anything that the twins did would lead back to him, Percy, and that would only damage his image when he applied for a job at the Ministry.
“Shouldn’t you be in the hospital wing then?” Percy said coolly, flipping through the pages of his book to find his page again.
“Meh,” Oliver shrugged. “I’ll just sleep it off.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“Shut up.”
Percy turned his attention back to his book (not that he was taking Oliver’s order or anything) ignoring the occasional groan from the bed next to him. Oliver soon flipped himself over, with quite the amount of effort by the sound of it, kicked his shoes off dangerously and lay there facing the ceiling. There were minutes of silence; the only sound in the room was Percy turning a page. After about five minutes, Percy thought that maybe Oliver had fallen asleep but he looked over to find he was wide-awake with his eyes concentrated on the ceiling.
“Are you alright?”
Oliver took a moment to respond but turned his head, mouth hanging open for a moment, “Huh?”
“I said, are you alright?” Percy repeated slowly. “How hard did that Bludger hit you?”
It seemed like a stupid question, Percy thought after the words left his mouth. He had never personally been hit by one of the insane sport balls, but Percy had been to enough matches and around enough Quidditch players to understand that any sort of contact with the ball would be considerably painful. Oliver slowly registered the question and shrugged again. This carelessness for his own health and safety was starting to bug Percy. Recklessness like this on the Quidditch pitch was one thing, but if he were this careless elsewhere, say in a Muggle inhabited area, it could cause harm to the entire wizarding community.
“Well it wasn’t like Fred or George hit it at me, so it could’ve been worse. Fred was aiming it at Katie when she came to score, but he missed or she swerved, I don’t really remember,” Oliver rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Anyway, it went right past me. I was concentrating on stopping Katie and the Bludger must have been coming back around, I didn’t notice and bam.”
The tone of his voice suggested that Oliver found being hit in the head like that perfectly normal, as if it wasn’t the first time (then again, Percy thought, there was that time after Oliver’s first match in their second year) this had happened. Oliver continued in a bored voice, eyes still on the ceiling.
“I blacked out after that, pretty sure I swung around once on my broom before just falling straight off. Woke up a bit later on the field, I wasn’t out for long.”
Oliver took a hand and rubbed the back of his head.
“Still hurts like hell though.”
“I would assume so,” Percy said matter-of-factly. “You should go see Madam Pomfrey though, it’s likely you have a concussion.”
“If I go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey I was hit by a Bludger, she’ll keep me in there for days like last time-”
“You were in a coma last time!”
Oliver waved Percy’s comment off with his other hand. “Fact is, I’m going to lose precious training time if I go to her.”
Percy rolled his eyes angrily, closing his book again and placing it on his bedside table and setting his Head Boy badge (which had been sitting next to his lamp) down on top of it. Oliver watched him lazily and took off his own team Captain badge and dropped it lazily onto the table. Percy knew very well that Oliver saw the way he was glowering at the way he, Oliver, had so casually thrown his badge aside. It happened any and every time the two took their badges off in front of each other.
“Just a badge, Percy,” Oliver said, not attempting to hide his smirk.
“It is not just a badge! It is a symbol of leadership bestowed upon you by the Professors because they believed you held the ability to carry the responsibilities that badge entails! It is an outward representation of-don’t change the subject!” Percy fumed, having sat up to deliver his speech in which Oliver only grinned more.
“I’m kidding, would you relax for once?” Oliver said.
Percy continued to sit there, nostrils slightly flared and his cheeks hot, but he took a deep breath before lying back onto his bed, twisting his fingers together onto his stomach. Percy could never accuse Oliver of not caring about his position because the Quidditch Captain did appear to take the role just as seriously as the Head Boy. The only difference was that Oliver only cared about being a Captain that led his team to victory. He didn’t care about responsibilities of being a role model, he didn’t care what he or his team had to do to obtain victory and he certainly didn’t care about showing off his position to the rest of the school.
Not that Percy was show off. Never.
“I was relaxing before you came in, thank you very much,” Percy said bitterly.
“You were reading; why didn’t you do it down in the common room?” Oliver asked, turning to lie on his side, propping himself up on one elbow and digging his chin into his palm.
“Too noisy,” Percy said flatly. “And I was only doing some recreational reading so the library didn’t seem appropriate. Besides it was full of first years.”
“You need a new recreational activity,” Oliver smirked.
“Excuse me if I don’t want to spend my life being hit in the head by Bludgers,” Percy snapped back.
“Just because you can’t tell one end of a broom from another!”
“I was-it wasn’t-I was eleven, Oliver!”
“So was I, you didn’t see me hold my broom so awkwardly that I fell off the other end, did you?” Oliver looked at Percy, lifting an eyebrow.
Percy’s ears were now so bright that they almost blended in with his hair. He folded his arms angrily across his chest then daringly looked at Oliver. When Oliver caught his eye, Percy looked away quickly.
“I… I didn’t think you would remember that,” Percy muttered softly.
Oliver gave a small shrug with one shoulder and turned to roll over on his bed so that he was facing the ceiling again.
“It was our first flying lesson, of course I remember,” Oliver said in a small voice that sounded like he was more thinking out loud than talking to Percy.
A vacant look washed over Oliver’s eyes, his head suddenly seemed to be in some far off place. Percy watched him apprehensively as the twinge of anger he was feeling before slowly faded away. This was probably the first time Percy and Oliver had spoken to each other this long outside of class. Percy had never noticed how polar opposite the two of them were until now. Percy was always the one with his nose in a book and Oliver on a broom in the air. But still, Percy knew Oliver well enough to know that it wasn’t like the Quidditch Captain to zone out half way through a conversation. If you could call the substance-free banter they were having a conversation.
Even if he was reminiscing about their first flying lesson here at Hogwarts (a day Percy personally tried to forget), it had to be a solid minute after Oliver had gone silent and worry crept up on Percy again.
“Oliver?”
“Huh?” Oliver snapped his head up and quickly grabbed the back of his neck. “Ow!”
“Honestly, go see Madam Pomfrey! Because if you pass out on the way down the stairs, I’m not catching you!” Percy said with a heavy sigh.
“I told you, I’m not missing out on any practise sessions! This is my last chance to win the cup and I’m not letting some headache take that away from me!”
“I want that cup as much as you do-”
“I doubt that,” Oliver snorted.
“-but you have to be logical,” Percy pressed on as though Oliver had not interrupted. “If you do not have yourself seen to now, it could cause lasting damage. What happens if you survive the next few practise sessions and black out during a match? How will you feel after Gryffindor loses because their Captain was too proud to go get his head checked?!”
“Since when did you worry about me so much?” Oliver replied, the same snappish tone back in his voice.
“Merlin! I apologise then if I worry a little about the person I’ve been sharing a dormitory with for the last six years! And it's a little hard not to worry about a person that walks into a room only to drop half dead onto his bed!”
Oliver obviously wanted to argue but either the words were caught in his throat or the pain had taken over because the next moment he lay back on his bed, hissing. Percy noticed quickly and took his glasses off, setting them next to his badge. He crossed over to Oliver’s bed and looked at him. Oliver had one hand pressed against his forehead and his teeth were clenched together.
“I can bet the cup you have a concussion, if you go to the hospital wing now, more than likely you’ll be out in less than two days. You don’t have practise again until Saturday, right?”
It was genuine concern that Percy was acting on now. Whether they were good friends or just polite classmates, Percy was hardly going to ignore someone that was lying in front of him, clearly in pain.
“Memorised my schedule now, have you?” Oliver muttered.
“Memorised Fred and George’s schedule so I know where they are and what they’re up to,” Percy corrected.
“Right, well, can I at least have a nap before I go, Head Boy? Because otherwise I might actually pass out on the stairs.”
“Fine, I’m going to ask Fred how long you were out seeing as you don’t seem to have a clue,” Percy straightened himself up and crossed the room.
“Hey Percy,” Oliver called.
Percy turned around just as he had reached the door and looked at Oliver curiously.
“Thanks, mate.”
A/N: First time writing them seriously, even though the idea started off as just banter and had to grow around that. Oliver's really hard to write because we've never seen him do anything but spaz about Quidditch... I'd like to improve on writing him!
Hello to anyone from tumblr, I'm iceeyu there 8D