[Harry Potter] Oliver/Percy | Midnight Sport, Navy Blue; Godric/Salazar | Easy to Love
Title: Midnight Sport; Navy Blue; Easy to Love
Summary: Three unrelated ficlets.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Oliver/Percy; Percy/Oliver + bb girl; Godric/Salazar + Helga
Genre: Gen, muggle AU, family/friendship, angst, romance
Rating: G-PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 754
Author's Notes: All prompts courtesy of ansera.
001. Oliver/Percy; "late-night Quidditch at Hogwarts"; 238
"You owe me," Percy grumbles as he pulls a sweatshirt over his head. His glasses nearly fall off his nose, but he doesn't fix them until he's sure that he's not going to freeze while on a broom in mid-air.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Oliver's bouncing with excitement, Quidditch gear and all, and Percy would smile at his glee if he could. As it is, he's trying very hard to see the merits of a one-on-one practice in the middle of the night. "I'll stop dragging mud in and everything. And I'll stop leaving my socks everywhere."
In ten minutes, they're on the Pitch, and in another few, they're up in the very cold and windy air, with Percy lobbing the Quaffle for Oliver to Keep. He sneezes a lot, curses at Oliver as loud as he dares, and reiterates how much he hates this. Oliver just grins and motions for Percy to throw harder, the prick, as if he doesn't know already that Percy's trying his hardest; he's the least athletic Weasley ever, and his arm's aching from the exercise.
How's he ever going to finish his essays if his arm's useless in the morning?
But then the Quaffle goes whizzing past Oliver's ear, and his face lights up in surprise, and Percy decides that maybe that's one merit of midnight Quidditch in the bloody cold, to see Oliver retreat into his boyish passion for the sport.
002. Oliver/Percy; "Mrs Weasley expects kids, gay or not, and Percy always did aim to please his parents"; 103
It's taken them months of agonising over every detail and every 'what if' with the adoption agency, but she's finally here, and Percy's not leaving her side. Their daughter is bundled up in a navy blue blanket, sleeping in her new crib, and it almost makes Percy want to cry.
The door to the nursery opens, and Oliver slips in quietly, a small smile on his face. He rubs at Percy's shoulders, forces him to lean back and relax against Oliver's warm jumper.
"She's beautiful," Percy says, voice cracking. His hand reaches upwards, and Oliver takes and kisses it softly, because she is.
003. Godric/Salazar; Easy to Love - The Jezabels; 413
They're in a club, drowning their sorrows at the bar, he and Helga. The music is loud and has a great bass, and he moves to the beat even as he swallows down the too-expensive beer.
*
"Sally," he says, eyes twinkling with mischief like the adorable child he knows he is. "Sally, we could rule the world."
The other boy stares at him like he always does, serious and impassive, even with his front tooth missing. "With dinosaurs?"
*
A guy hits on him, and Helga smirks. He's handsome, and tall, and really fit, but Godric gives an apologetic smile as he walks away. He's not ready for this shit yet.
"You need to get laid," Helga whispers into his ear, leaning forward to catch the bartender's attention, and orders another round for them both. "Cheers."
*
They kiss for the first time in Godric's backyard. It's midnight, and Salazar's worried about being caught, but Godric doesn't let go of his arm, the stubborn prick. Seventeen and eighteen, on the brink of the start of their lives, and maybe Salazar doesn't want to leave, not yet, not when Godric makes that sound at the back of his throat that speaks more than words, more than his ridiculous ideas about taking over the British government and installing robots in their place. Seventeen and eighteen, and it's as if they could be stuck in this moment forever, no matter how stupid that sounds. But they let go, because Salazar's off to university in Edinburgh in the morning, and this feels good, but maybe it's too late.
*
"Hey." Helga points with her bottle at the entrance, and Godric's body stiffens. "He looks good."
Salazar steps into the club, looking out of place, but good. Godric's bottle clinks as he settles it down onto the bar, and he rubs his palms onto the denim of his jeans, swallowing hard. Helga grabs his shoulder as he makes to walk over, looks pointedly at him for a moment, then shoves him in Salazar's direction, and shit, they make eye contact across the pulsing crowd.
"Hello." He's trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Salazar nods, bites his lip. "Hello," he says. And, "I'm sorry."
It's not good enough, but Godric's very willing to let it be for the moment. Salazar's fingers are cold as they find his, and god, it's been years, but the intensity is familiar, and Godric swallows again as Salazar pulls him quietly into the crowd.
Summary: Three unrelated ficlets.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Oliver/Percy; Percy/Oliver + bb girl; Godric/Salazar + Helga
Genre: Gen, muggle AU, family/friendship, angst, romance
Rating: G-PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 754
Author's Notes: All prompts courtesy of ansera.
001. Oliver/Percy; "late-night Quidditch at Hogwarts"; 238
"You owe me," Percy grumbles as he pulls a sweatshirt over his head. His glasses nearly fall off his nose, but he doesn't fix them until he's sure that he's not going to freeze while on a broom in mid-air.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Oliver's bouncing with excitement, Quidditch gear and all, and Percy would smile at his glee if he could. As it is, he's trying very hard to see the merits of a one-on-one practice in the middle of the night. "I'll stop dragging mud in and everything. And I'll stop leaving my socks everywhere."
In ten minutes, they're on the Pitch, and in another few, they're up in the very cold and windy air, with Percy lobbing the Quaffle for Oliver to Keep. He sneezes a lot, curses at Oliver as loud as he dares, and reiterates how much he hates this. Oliver just grins and motions for Percy to throw harder, the prick, as if he doesn't know already that Percy's trying his hardest; he's the least athletic Weasley ever, and his arm's aching from the exercise.
How's he ever going to finish his essays if his arm's useless in the morning?
But then the Quaffle goes whizzing past Oliver's ear, and his face lights up in surprise, and Percy decides that maybe that's one merit of midnight Quidditch in the bloody cold, to see Oliver retreat into his boyish passion for the sport.
002. Oliver/Percy; "Mrs Weasley expects kids, gay or not, and Percy always did aim to please his parents"; 103
It's taken them months of agonising over every detail and every 'what if' with the adoption agency, but she's finally here, and Percy's not leaving her side. Their daughter is bundled up in a navy blue blanket, sleeping in her new crib, and it almost makes Percy want to cry.
The door to the nursery opens, and Oliver slips in quietly, a small smile on his face. He rubs at Percy's shoulders, forces him to lean back and relax against Oliver's warm jumper.
"She's beautiful," Percy says, voice cracking. His hand reaches upwards, and Oliver takes and kisses it softly, because she is.
003. Godric/Salazar; Easy to Love - The Jezabels; 413
They're in a club, drowning their sorrows at the bar, he and Helga. The music is loud and has a great bass, and he moves to the beat even as he swallows down the too-expensive beer.
*
"Sally," he says, eyes twinkling with mischief like the adorable child he knows he is. "Sally, we could rule the world."
The other boy stares at him like he always does, serious and impassive, even with his front tooth missing. "With dinosaurs?"
*
A guy hits on him, and Helga smirks. He's handsome, and tall, and really fit, but Godric gives an apologetic smile as he walks away. He's not ready for this shit yet.
"You need to get laid," Helga whispers into his ear, leaning forward to catch the bartender's attention, and orders another round for them both. "Cheers."
*
They kiss for the first time in Godric's backyard. It's midnight, and Salazar's worried about being caught, but Godric doesn't let go of his arm, the stubborn prick. Seventeen and eighteen, on the brink of the start of their lives, and maybe Salazar doesn't want to leave, not yet, not when Godric makes that sound at the back of his throat that speaks more than words, more than his ridiculous ideas about taking over the British government and installing robots in their place. Seventeen and eighteen, and it's as if they could be stuck in this moment forever, no matter how stupid that sounds. But they let go, because Salazar's off to university in Edinburgh in the morning, and this feels good, but maybe it's too late.
*
"Hey." Helga points with her bottle at the entrance, and Godric's body stiffens. "He looks good."
Salazar steps into the club, looking out of place, but good. Godric's bottle clinks as he settles it down onto the bar, and he rubs his palms onto the denim of his jeans, swallowing hard. Helga grabs his shoulder as he makes to walk over, looks pointedly at him for a moment, then shoves him in Salazar's direction, and shit, they make eye contact across the pulsing crowd.
"Hello." He's trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Salazar nods, bites his lip. "Hello," he says. And, "I'm sorry."
It's not good enough, but Godric's very willing to let it be for the moment. Salazar's fingers are cold as they find his, and god, it's been years, but the intensity is familiar, and Godric swallows again as Salazar pulls him quietly into the crowd.