Fic: With A Little Help From His Brother (Oliver/Percy) - Part 2
Title: With a Little Help From His Brother
Pairing/Characters: Percy/Oliver, Harry/Draco, Ron
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 11,486
Warnings: meddling!Ron, oblivious!Percy, shy!Oliver, unabashed feel-good happy-end, frequent mentions of drunkenness
Disclaimer: Obviously none of the characters or the details that can be recognised are mine. They are all JK Rowling's. I am just borrowing them to play.
Summary: Even though Ron’s cunning plans didn't have the intended result, he still planned on taking full credit.
Notes: This was written for ghot . I would also like to give many thanks to my lovely beta raisinous_fiend , for doing such a marvellous job at fixing up my less than perfect text.
part 1
The next day Percy went to work as usual. He left his Floo connection open, knowing that he’d have to face Ron and Oliver eventually. Oddly enough, his day progressed completely uneventfully. Midday came around and no one had tried to get in touch: no owls, no Floo calls. He started to get worried and slightly disappointed. He couldn’t hide from himself the honest truth that he had been on edge the whole day, looking forward to a Floo call from Oliver with equal parts trepidation and excitement.
Lunch time came and went, and still nothing. Percy fidgeted in his chair, feeling nervous and jumpy. He wondered if he could conceivably go home earlier; his concentration was completely shot and he felt incapable of getting anything done. Percy paused for a second to feel shocked at himself for even considering such a thing. However, he was right - no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t gather his scattered thoughts.
Percy sat staring intently at a piece of parchments, the words looking like so much gibberish, when his Floo finally flared. Without a thought, he dropped the parchment and ran to see who it was.
“Harry?” he exclaimed, astonished.
“Percy, will you let me through?” Harry asked without preamble. He had his determined face on and Percy was left staring dumbly, not knowing what to make of it. “It’s important,” Harry insisted impatiently.
“All right,” Percy responded weakly. He mechanically waved his wand to open his Floo and stood back with a perplexed frown.
With a whoosh of green flames Harry tumbled out. He stood up quickly with a determined, and not a little angry, look on his face. Percy couldn’t help notice that Harry was clutching a crumpled piece of parchment in his hand.
No sooner had Harry tumbled out when the Floo whooshed once more and Malfoy elegantly stepped out after him. Percy’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “I fail to see what all the fuss is about,” Malfoy was saying. “It’s just a harmless letter. I for one found it rather sweet and endearing actually.”
Harry turned to glare at Malfoy. “You would, wouldn’t you?” he spat, nostrils flaring. Malfoy affected an air of supreme boredom, indolently lifting an eyebrow.
All that did was enrage Harry even more. In one swift violent movement he spun on his heel and strode towards Percy. “I however want to know the meaning of this,” he demanded, thrusting the parchment under Percy’s nose. “I want to know what made you think you could send something like this to my boyfriend,” Harry all but snarled.
Taken aback, Percy gingerly took the parchment out of Harry’s outstretched hand. He looked towards Malfoy for some sort of help, to find the blond lazily leaning against the mantle with a smug look on his face.
Percy looked down at the parchment and promptly felt his mouth drop open in disbelief and his eyes bulge out. It was a love letter, an awkwardly graphic and simperingly cutesy love letter, addressed to Malfoy from… Percy!
Percy looked up, shocked. Harry was looking angry and confrontational while Malfoy was looking merely mildly curious and not a little amused.
Percy took a deep bracing breath. “You think I wrote this?” he managed to force out in a wheezy voice.
“Well? Didn’t you?” Harry demanded, standing on the balls of his feet as if to make himself look taller and more intimidating.
“Of course I didn’t!” Percy sputtered, affronted, looking down at Harry over the rim of his glasses, and his not insignificant height advantage.
Harry and Malfoy both cocked their eyebrows in an eerily similar fashion, silently demanding more.
Percy looked back down at the inflammatory letter. “While the hand-writing is a rather good approximation of my own, it nevertheless is nothing more than that, an approximation. I am quite shocked, Harry, that you would believe me capable of writing such a piece of drivel,” Percy remonstrated, shuddering.
Harry shrugged, looking slightly mollified. “Who do you think wrote it then?” he asked Percy.
Percy had a good idea who it probably was. “Who do you think wrote it?” he asked instead. Harry sported a look of dawning apprehension, but by the look on Malfoy’s face, he had correctly suspected the culprit all along. “I should add that it looks like this letter was written by a straight man rather than a gay man,” Percy added helpfully, as he watched the scowl grow on Harry’s face.
“Ron!” Harry growled under his breath. Without even saying good bye, he stalked back towards the fireplace, his murderous intent obvious.
Malfoy chuckled. “You must forgive Harry’s rudeness,” he told Percy with an indulgent smile. “But he has a bit of a one track mind. He will eventually remember that he left without properly taking his leave.” Malfoy moved to follow Harry back to Hogwarts.
Before stepping into the Floo he looked back over his shoulder and gave Percy a mischievous wink. “Good evening, Weasley. Feel free to write to me whenever the desire arises... Harry’s rather hot when he gets all worked up.” Malfoy then smirked wickedly. “Now I better go, I don’t want to miss my second favourite pastime - watching Harry chew out your baby brother.”
Percy’s Floo sparked green one last time and he was left alone, still clutching the crumpled letter in his hand. For once he agreed with Malfoy; he could only hope that Harry was up to giving Ron the tongue-lashing he deserved.
Percy collapsed into his chair with a small smile. After this it would be a long time before Ron worked up the nerve to Floo Percy, let alone ask him another favour. That, at least, was good news.
Percy lifted up the letter to read it once more. He couldn’t help cringing at the cheesy lines and wincing at the disastrous attempts to be smutty. He couldn’t help but be offended all over again that Harry had actually believed that Percy had written it. If Percy were to write a love letter, he was sure he wouldn’t make such a hash of it.
Percy sat quietly for a couple of long minutes, feeling even more distracted than he had before. All the previous excitement didn’t hide the fact that he still had no word from Oliver. Biting the bullet, he resolutely got up before he lost his nerve, made his excuses to Madge, and left work early.
oooOOOOooo
Wednesday morning Percy dragged himself to work feeling decidedly dispirited. He still hadn’t heard anything from Oliver.
As he sat glumly in his office and sipped his second tea of the day, Madge bustled in. “Good morning,” she said cheerful. “I heard that someone’s grumpy today.” She plopped a pile of letters on Percy’s desk. “Here’s your mail, you might find something there to cheer you up.”
Percy waited until she left before pulling his mail towards him to look through. The only think that could possibly cheer him up was a grovelling letter of apology from Ron, but he sincerely doubted he’d be getting one any time soon.
On top of the pile, looking deceptively innocent, was a crisp white parchment, neatly folded and sealed with a Puddlemere United seal. It was from Oliver. Percy picked it up and held it with shaking hands; a letter, from Oliver. Percy held back a sob that threatened to escape. If Oliver was resorting to letters, then things were so much worse than Percy had thought.
Percy put the letter aside, determined to ignore it for a little more. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. But as soon as he had turned away, he turned back to the letter and snatched it up again, heart beating fast. He couldn’t wait, he had to know.
With one swift slide of his letter opener, he snapped the seal and unfolded it. With bated breath his eyes skimmed over the words, barely taking them in. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew large. It couldn’t be! He returned to the beginning, forcing himself to read slowly this time. By the time he came to Oliver’s signature at the end, he was practically gasping and his heart was beating hard enough to burst out of his ribcage. He read the letter once more to be sure.
As soon as he finished reading it the last time, he sprang up from his chair. “I must see Oliver!” he told himself, speaking out loud.
He rushed out his room, stuffing the letter in his pocket, and made a beeline for the secretary’s desk. “Madge,” he breathed, already short of breath. “I got to go, it’s urgent! If anyone asks, tell them I’ll work overtime to make up.”
As he rushed away, eager to get to the nearest Apparition spot, Madge yelled after him. “It was good news then?”
Percy ran into Puddlemere’s stadium, a stitch burning in his side. He had managed to bypass the guard by showing him his Ministry Badge and pompously informing him that he was on ‘urgent Ministry business’. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for abusing his power like this - what would the Minister say? - but sometimes needs must.
Once Percy reached the green of the pitch he leaned forward, lungs burning, trying to get his breath back. Up in the air he heard the Puddlemere players and coaches exclaiming over his presence. He stood up straight and stared up at the sky, looking for Oliver. He was easy to find, over by the goal hoops.
Percy suddenly realised what he was doing; he had trespassed on to the stadium under false pretences and now he was disrupting the team’s practice. He felt his ears burning with embarrassment. However, he manfully waved his arms to catch Oliver’s attention and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Oliver!”
Percy could see the moment Oliver realised it was him. He waved to his team mates to be quiet and then shot off on his broom in Percy’s direction. Oliver came to an abrupt stop a couple of feet away from Percy. He jumped off his broom and sprinted the rest of the distance, until he stood in front of the redhead.
“Percy?” he asked, confused. “What are you doing here? Is something up?”
Percy took the letter out of his pocket and waved it in the air. “I got your letter!” he exclaimed.
Oliver blushed. “Oh,” he said, turning his eyes down and rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“Yes.” Percy was ridding high on adrenaline and he felt like he was going to burst from the nervous energy and excitement he was holding in. “Oh Oliver!” he exclaimed. “I read your letter.”
Percy’s tone of voice must have given Oliver courage, because he looked up from under his sweaty fringe. “Did you like it?” he asked shyly.
“I loved it, Oliver! No one has ever written me a love letter before. But if they had, yours still would have been the most perfect one.” Percy blushed. “Did you really mean it? Everything you said? Did you really mean it?”
Oliver looked Percy straight in the eyes. “Every word,” he said quietly, but earnestly.
Percy blushed even brighter red, but looked so pleased he could burst. “I have been so stupid,” he said laughing. “So stupid and so blind! How did you ever put up with me?”
Oliver laughed, but didn’t say anything, he just looked at Percy enquiringly.
Percy stopped laughing and put the letter carefully back in his pocket. “In case I haven’t made myself clear,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “The answer to your question, to all your questions, is yes.”
Oliver smiled widely, flashing his famous dimples - one day Percy would have to tell him just how dangerous those dimples were - and Percy finally was able to do what he always wanted to when Oliver smiled like that. Percy launched himself at Oliver, grasping his face between his hands and kissing him deeply.
This time they weren’t drunk. They were in a Quidditch pitch on a Wednesday morning. There was a light chill in the air and a slight drizzle. There was stubble on Oliver’s cheeks, since he apparently hadn’t bothered shaving. Percy could hear the jeers and the wolf-whistles above their heads from Oliver’s team mates. But as they held on to each other tightly and deepened the kiss even more, giving their audience a show, Percy felt that this kiss was even better than the last, and that every kiss with Oliver would just get better and better.
Eventually they broke apart, gasping and laughing. Oliver hugged Percy close. “I was afraid you’d find my letter silly,” he confessed. “I had never written a love letter before. Actually, I got the idea from Ron.”
Percy pulled back and looked at Oliver, perplexed. “Ron?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Oliver said chuckling a bit sheepishly. “The other day Ron called me and asked for help. He said he wanted to know how to write a gay love letter.”
Percy looked disbelieving and Oliver laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it either. What would Ron want to write a gay love letter for?”
“What in Merlin’s name is a gay love letter?” Percy asked laughing.
“Dunno,” Oliver responded. “I guess he meant a smutty love letter because then he started asking all these details.” Oliver started laughing again. “You should have seen his face!”
“Anyway,” Oliver went on. “I realised I had never written a love letter, smutty or not, and that maybe I should now that I had someone I wanted to write to. I thought that this way I might finally manage to make myself clear, since I didn’t seem to be managing very well trying to talk to you.”
“Remind me to thank Ron,” Percy said, thinking that he might be able to forgive Ron the debacle with the letter to Malfoy after all.
Percy looked up into the cloudy morning sky and smiled, exhilarated; everything was turning out so much better than he could have hoped for. All it had taken was a little help from his brother.
~The End~
Pairing/Characters: Percy/Oliver, Harry/Draco, Ron
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 11,486
Warnings: meddling!Ron, oblivious!Percy, shy!Oliver, unabashed feel-good happy-end, frequent mentions of drunkenness
Disclaimer: Obviously none of the characters or the details that can be recognised are mine. They are all JK Rowling's. I am just borrowing them to play.
Summary: Even though Ron’s cunning plans didn't have the intended result, he still planned on taking full credit.
Notes: This was written for ghot . I would also like to give many thanks to my lovely beta raisinous_fiend , for doing such a marvellous job at fixing up my less than perfect text.
part 1
The next day Percy went to work as usual. He left his Floo connection open, knowing that he’d have to face Ron and Oliver eventually. Oddly enough, his day progressed completely uneventfully. Midday came around and no one had tried to get in touch: no owls, no Floo calls. He started to get worried and slightly disappointed. He couldn’t hide from himself the honest truth that he had been on edge the whole day, looking forward to a Floo call from Oliver with equal parts trepidation and excitement.
Lunch time came and went, and still nothing. Percy fidgeted in his chair, feeling nervous and jumpy. He wondered if he could conceivably go home earlier; his concentration was completely shot and he felt incapable of getting anything done. Percy paused for a second to feel shocked at himself for even considering such a thing. However, he was right - no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t gather his scattered thoughts.
Percy sat staring intently at a piece of parchments, the words looking like so much gibberish, when his Floo finally flared. Without a thought, he dropped the parchment and ran to see who it was.
“Harry?” he exclaimed, astonished.
“Percy, will you let me through?” Harry asked without preamble. He had his determined face on and Percy was left staring dumbly, not knowing what to make of it. “It’s important,” Harry insisted impatiently.
“All right,” Percy responded weakly. He mechanically waved his wand to open his Floo and stood back with a perplexed frown.
With a whoosh of green flames Harry tumbled out. He stood up quickly with a determined, and not a little angry, look on his face. Percy couldn’t help notice that Harry was clutching a crumpled piece of parchment in his hand.
No sooner had Harry tumbled out when the Floo whooshed once more and Malfoy elegantly stepped out after him. Percy’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “I fail to see what all the fuss is about,” Malfoy was saying. “It’s just a harmless letter. I for one found it rather sweet and endearing actually.”
Harry turned to glare at Malfoy. “You would, wouldn’t you?” he spat, nostrils flaring. Malfoy affected an air of supreme boredom, indolently lifting an eyebrow.
All that did was enrage Harry even more. In one swift violent movement he spun on his heel and strode towards Percy. “I however want to know the meaning of this,” he demanded, thrusting the parchment under Percy’s nose. “I want to know what made you think you could send something like this to my boyfriend,” Harry all but snarled.
Taken aback, Percy gingerly took the parchment out of Harry’s outstretched hand. He looked towards Malfoy for some sort of help, to find the blond lazily leaning against the mantle with a smug look on his face.
Percy looked down at the parchment and promptly felt his mouth drop open in disbelief and his eyes bulge out. It was a love letter, an awkwardly graphic and simperingly cutesy love letter, addressed to Malfoy from… Percy!
Percy looked up, shocked. Harry was looking angry and confrontational while Malfoy was looking merely mildly curious and not a little amused.
Percy took a deep bracing breath. “You think I wrote this?” he managed to force out in a wheezy voice.
“Well? Didn’t you?” Harry demanded, standing on the balls of his feet as if to make himself look taller and more intimidating.
“Of course I didn’t!” Percy sputtered, affronted, looking down at Harry over the rim of his glasses, and his not insignificant height advantage.
Harry and Malfoy both cocked their eyebrows in an eerily similar fashion, silently demanding more.
Percy looked back down at the inflammatory letter. “While the hand-writing is a rather good approximation of my own, it nevertheless is nothing more than that, an approximation. I am quite shocked, Harry, that you would believe me capable of writing such a piece of drivel,” Percy remonstrated, shuddering.
Harry shrugged, looking slightly mollified. “Who do you think wrote it then?” he asked Percy.
Percy had a good idea who it probably was. “Who do you think wrote it?” he asked instead. Harry sported a look of dawning apprehension, but by the look on Malfoy’s face, he had correctly suspected the culprit all along. “I should add that it looks like this letter was written by a straight man rather than a gay man,” Percy added helpfully, as he watched the scowl grow on Harry’s face.
“Ron!” Harry growled under his breath. Without even saying good bye, he stalked back towards the fireplace, his murderous intent obvious.
Malfoy chuckled. “You must forgive Harry’s rudeness,” he told Percy with an indulgent smile. “But he has a bit of a one track mind. He will eventually remember that he left without properly taking his leave.” Malfoy moved to follow Harry back to Hogwarts.
Before stepping into the Floo he looked back over his shoulder and gave Percy a mischievous wink. “Good evening, Weasley. Feel free to write to me whenever the desire arises... Harry’s rather hot when he gets all worked up.” Malfoy then smirked wickedly. “Now I better go, I don’t want to miss my second favourite pastime - watching Harry chew out your baby brother.”
Percy’s Floo sparked green one last time and he was left alone, still clutching the crumpled letter in his hand. For once he agreed with Malfoy; he could only hope that Harry was up to giving Ron the tongue-lashing he deserved.
Percy collapsed into his chair with a small smile. After this it would be a long time before Ron worked up the nerve to Floo Percy, let alone ask him another favour. That, at least, was good news.
Percy lifted up the letter to read it once more. He couldn’t help cringing at the cheesy lines and wincing at the disastrous attempts to be smutty. He couldn’t help but be offended all over again that Harry had actually believed that Percy had written it. If Percy were to write a love letter, he was sure he wouldn’t make such a hash of it.
Percy sat quietly for a couple of long minutes, feeling even more distracted than he had before. All the previous excitement didn’t hide the fact that he still had no word from Oliver. Biting the bullet, he resolutely got up before he lost his nerve, made his excuses to Madge, and left work early.
oooOOOOooo
Wednesday morning Percy dragged himself to work feeling decidedly dispirited. He still hadn’t heard anything from Oliver.
As he sat glumly in his office and sipped his second tea of the day, Madge bustled in. “Good morning,” she said cheerful. “I heard that someone’s grumpy today.” She plopped a pile of letters on Percy’s desk. “Here’s your mail, you might find something there to cheer you up.”
Percy waited until she left before pulling his mail towards him to look through. The only think that could possibly cheer him up was a grovelling letter of apology from Ron, but he sincerely doubted he’d be getting one any time soon.
On top of the pile, looking deceptively innocent, was a crisp white parchment, neatly folded and sealed with a Puddlemere United seal. It was from Oliver. Percy picked it up and held it with shaking hands; a letter, from Oliver. Percy held back a sob that threatened to escape. If Oliver was resorting to letters, then things were so much worse than Percy had thought.
Percy put the letter aside, determined to ignore it for a little more. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. But as soon as he had turned away, he turned back to the letter and snatched it up again, heart beating fast. He couldn’t wait, he had to know.
With one swift slide of his letter opener, he snapped the seal and unfolded it. With bated breath his eyes skimmed over the words, barely taking them in. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew large. It couldn’t be! He returned to the beginning, forcing himself to read slowly this time. By the time he came to Oliver’s signature at the end, he was practically gasping and his heart was beating hard enough to burst out of his ribcage. He read the letter once more to be sure.
As soon as he finished reading it the last time, he sprang up from his chair. “I must see Oliver!” he told himself, speaking out loud.
He rushed out his room, stuffing the letter in his pocket, and made a beeline for the secretary’s desk. “Madge,” he breathed, already short of breath. “I got to go, it’s urgent! If anyone asks, tell them I’ll work overtime to make up.”
As he rushed away, eager to get to the nearest Apparition spot, Madge yelled after him. “It was good news then?”
Percy ran into Puddlemere’s stadium, a stitch burning in his side. He had managed to bypass the guard by showing him his Ministry Badge and pompously informing him that he was on ‘urgent Ministry business’. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for abusing his power like this - what would the Minister say? - but sometimes needs must.
Once Percy reached the green of the pitch he leaned forward, lungs burning, trying to get his breath back. Up in the air he heard the Puddlemere players and coaches exclaiming over his presence. He stood up straight and stared up at the sky, looking for Oliver. He was easy to find, over by the goal hoops.
Percy suddenly realised what he was doing; he had trespassed on to the stadium under false pretences and now he was disrupting the team’s practice. He felt his ears burning with embarrassment. However, he manfully waved his arms to catch Oliver’s attention and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Oliver!”
Percy could see the moment Oliver realised it was him. He waved to his team mates to be quiet and then shot off on his broom in Percy’s direction. Oliver came to an abrupt stop a couple of feet away from Percy. He jumped off his broom and sprinted the rest of the distance, until he stood in front of the redhead.
“Percy?” he asked, confused. “What are you doing here? Is something up?”
Percy took the letter out of his pocket and waved it in the air. “I got your letter!” he exclaimed.
Oliver blushed. “Oh,” he said, turning his eyes down and rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“Yes.” Percy was ridding high on adrenaline and he felt like he was going to burst from the nervous energy and excitement he was holding in. “Oh Oliver!” he exclaimed. “I read your letter.”
Percy’s tone of voice must have given Oliver courage, because he looked up from under his sweaty fringe. “Did you like it?” he asked shyly.
“I loved it, Oliver! No one has ever written me a love letter before. But if they had, yours still would have been the most perfect one.” Percy blushed. “Did you really mean it? Everything you said? Did you really mean it?”
Oliver looked Percy straight in the eyes. “Every word,” he said quietly, but earnestly.
Percy blushed even brighter red, but looked so pleased he could burst. “I have been so stupid,” he said laughing. “So stupid and so blind! How did you ever put up with me?”
Oliver laughed, but didn’t say anything, he just looked at Percy enquiringly.
Percy stopped laughing and put the letter carefully back in his pocket. “In case I haven’t made myself clear,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “The answer to your question, to all your questions, is yes.”
Oliver smiled widely, flashing his famous dimples - one day Percy would have to tell him just how dangerous those dimples were - and Percy finally was able to do what he always wanted to when Oliver smiled like that. Percy launched himself at Oliver, grasping his face between his hands and kissing him deeply.
This time they weren’t drunk. They were in a Quidditch pitch on a Wednesday morning. There was a light chill in the air and a slight drizzle. There was stubble on Oliver’s cheeks, since he apparently hadn’t bothered shaving. Percy could hear the jeers and the wolf-whistles above their heads from Oliver’s team mates. But as they held on to each other tightly and deepened the kiss even more, giving their audience a show, Percy felt that this kiss was even better than the last, and that every kiss with Oliver would just get better and better.
Eventually they broke apart, gasping and laughing. Oliver hugged Percy close. “I was afraid you’d find my letter silly,” he confessed. “I had never written a love letter before. Actually, I got the idea from Ron.”
Percy pulled back and looked at Oliver, perplexed. “Ron?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Oliver said chuckling a bit sheepishly. “The other day Ron called me and asked for help. He said he wanted to know how to write a gay love letter.”
Percy looked disbelieving and Oliver laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it either. What would Ron want to write a gay love letter for?”
“What in Merlin’s name is a gay love letter?” Percy asked laughing.
“Dunno,” Oliver responded. “I guess he meant a smutty love letter because then he started asking all these details.” Oliver started laughing again. “You should have seen his face!”
“Anyway,” Oliver went on. “I realised I had never written a love letter, smutty or not, and that maybe I should now that I had someone I wanted to write to. I thought that this way I might finally manage to make myself clear, since I didn’t seem to be managing very well trying to talk to you.”
“Remind me to thank Ron,” Percy said, thinking that he might be able to forgive Ron the debacle with the letter to Malfoy after all.
Percy looked up into the cloudy morning sky and smiled, exhilarated; everything was turning out so much better than he could have hoped for. All it had taken was a little help from his brother.
~The End~