Fic: The Sea and the Shore
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 676
Pairing: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Summary: Percy's used to being what his best friend once called an 'earth mage' - set in his ways, his routine, more familiar with the small, hearth magics than grand gestures. Oliver... Oliver's not.
He's always been the dependable one, the rock, the anchor for those around him. He's not very creative, he's not very adventurous, not like the twins or his older brother, or Ginny. He's kept his head down and he's made mistakes - lots of mistakes. He's cast off his family and been taken back in, and he knows, deep down to the core of him, that he could survive being cast out again.
"I'm locking up!"
"Go ahead, Samantha - I'll be a little while longer," he says back to his secretary, moving through the stack of paper on his desk and methodically checking each one. He's not even in charge, not really. He wants to be, and maybe one day he will, but right now he's just assistant to the Minister and that's not that big a deal to people.
Searching for approval his whole life has led him to realize he needs to take pride in the small things. He takes his time, does his job right, and even though no one acknowledges it, he finds his satisfaction where he can take it.
The floo whooshes - an incoming call. Confused - it is well after dark - he pushes away from his desk and winces as he stands, his back reminding him how much it doesn't like sitting hunched over badly-written parchment for hours upon hours. Groaning a little, he goes over to the fireplace and dashes in a pinch of floo powder.
Oliver's face appears in the flames.
"Oliver!" he says, surprised. They were - well. His ears blush, just a little. He and Oliver share a bed quite a lot, but Oliver's a famous Quidditch player and he himself has a lot of work in the Ministry - they're not much to each other, he thought, not outside of the bedroom.
"Hey, Perce," Oliver says, a warm smile coloring his voice and making the corners of his eyes crinkle.
He fights the urge to make sure his hair isn't wild from him running fingers through it and instead gestures at the fire. "Is something... wrong?"
"No," Oliver replies immediately. "No, I was just - I wanted to see you. I'm in town, and I stopped by your flat, but the witch at the desk says you haven't been around lately."
"Yeah, a - a big push for an amended law is coming up for vote in the Wizengamot, I've been... I'm, ah, where are you right now?"
"Well, you know, I was hoping - it's the off-season, and I get that I'm not really off, I still have practices, but that's what Apparition's for, you know? Besides, we're training a new kid, really great at catching the quaffle. This kid's amazing, but he makes me feel so old." Oliver laughs, glances away for a second before looking back up at him. "And, you know. I kinda wanted to see you. So. I'm in town. Not exactly at your place, but I wanted to - to see if you wanted to meet up. Get something to eat. Make your flat feel lived in again."
He licks his lips. He might be the earth, the solid, stodgy rock that needs routine, is slow to move and needs stability, but Oliver is - is water, quicksilver and beautiful, changeable and yet still always the same, laid-back and relaxed. "I. Ah. I guess - this can wait until tomorrow."
"Good," Oliver says, relief tinging his voice. "Because I kinda ended up getting locked inside the Ministry and I don't exactly want to set off the alarms trying to get out."
"You - " Percy takes a deep breath, lets it out, and shakes his head. "You."
"Yeah," Oliver chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.
Percy glances at the desk once more and then grabs his cloak. He might be the earth, unwilling to change and grounded, and Oliver may be like water to him, always slipping away, different, changing and yet not, but earth and water are not as different as they could be.
Word Count: 676
Pairing: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Summary: Percy's used to being what his best friend once called an 'earth mage' - set in his ways, his routine, more familiar with the small, hearth magics than grand gestures. Oliver... Oliver's not.
He's always been the dependable one, the rock, the anchor for those around him. He's not very creative, he's not very adventurous, not like the twins or his older brother, or Ginny. He's kept his head down and he's made mistakes - lots of mistakes. He's cast off his family and been taken back in, and he knows, deep down to the core of him, that he could survive being cast out again.
"I'm locking up!"
"Go ahead, Samantha - I'll be a little while longer," he says back to his secretary, moving through the stack of paper on his desk and methodically checking each one. He's not even in charge, not really. He wants to be, and maybe one day he will, but right now he's just assistant to the Minister and that's not that big a deal to people.
Searching for approval his whole life has led him to realize he needs to take pride in the small things. He takes his time, does his job right, and even though no one acknowledges it, he finds his satisfaction where he can take it.
The floo whooshes - an incoming call. Confused - it is well after dark - he pushes away from his desk and winces as he stands, his back reminding him how much it doesn't like sitting hunched over badly-written parchment for hours upon hours. Groaning a little, he goes over to the fireplace and dashes in a pinch of floo powder.
Oliver's face appears in the flames.
"Oliver!" he says, surprised. They were - well. His ears blush, just a little. He and Oliver share a bed quite a lot, but Oliver's a famous Quidditch player and he himself has a lot of work in the Ministry - they're not much to each other, he thought, not outside of the bedroom.
"Hey, Perce," Oliver says, a warm smile coloring his voice and making the corners of his eyes crinkle.
He fights the urge to make sure his hair isn't wild from him running fingers through it and instead gestures at the fire. "Is something... wrong?"
"No," Oliver replies immediately. "No, I was just - I wanted to see you. I'm in town, and I stopped by your flat, but the witch at the desk says you haven't been around lately."
"Yeah, a - a big push for an amended law is coming up for vote in the Wizengamot, I've been... I'm, ah, where are you right now?"
"Well, you know, I was hoping - it's the off-season, and I get that I'm not really off, I still have practices, but that's what Apparition's for, you know? Besides, we're training a new kid, really great at catching the quaffle. This kid's amazing, but he makes me feel so old." Oliver laughs, glances away for a second before looking back up at him. "And, you know. I kinda wanted to see you. So. I'm in town. Not exactly at your place, but I wanted to - to see if you wanted to meet up. Get something to eat. Make your flat feel lived in again."
He licks his lips. He might be the earth, the solid, stodgy rock that needs routine, is slow to move and needs stability, but Oliver is - is water, quicksilver and beautiful, changeable and yet still always the same, laid-back and relaxed. "I. Ah. I guess - this can wait until tomorrow."
"Good," Oliver says, relief tinging his voice. "Because I kinda ended up getting locked inside the Ministry and I don't exactly want to set off the alarms trying to get out."
"You - " Percy takes a deep breath, lets it out, and shakes his head. "You."
"Yeah," Oliver chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.
Percy glances at the desk once more and then grabs his cloak. He might be the earth, unwilling to change and grounded, and Oliver may be like water to him, always slipping away, different, changing and yet not, but earth and water are not as different as they could be.