Normal Days

A Scotland sun, TOTALLY NORMAL, was beautiful when it was fully out from its constant cover of clouds. Oliver basked in it, a few hundred feet up in the air. Their practice was going great! Potter was a natural at catching, even as a little third year. And the twins had only given one new member a concussion. He called the practice early so the rest of the team could go and relax under the surprisingly good weather. 

“Think heʻs possessed?” George asks out loud, but Oliver pays him no mind, leaning further against his broom. 

Fred flies up beside his twin, “Most definitely. Heʻs lounging . Like a cat.”

“Maybe McGonagall finally figured out how to possess students.” 

“Oi, Professor, could I get an extension on our essay?” 

“No, and whatʻs more, I want two more feet of paper before the dayʻs out.” He quips back. Damn, with all this sun theyʻve been having the past couple of days he might even be able to get his tan back. Oliver scratches his head, at least, he thinks they’ve had this much sun the past couple of days. He can’t really remember. 

The twins yell, flying away as fast as possible screaming, “Professor McGonagallʻs possessed a student.” Oliver chuckles, just a little bit. Theyʻre going to get so much detention for that stunt, and maybe even that extension. 

It's been a grueling day so far, and when it was all over, Oliver would fetch Percy from whatever hole the poor workaholic squireled himself into in the library, then go eat dinner. He exhales, righting himself and doing some lazy maneuvers on his broom. It was their last year, and while uh. Well, Oliver was being a bit intense with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, it was nothing compared to what Percy was doing with his school work. 

At one point in time, Oliverʻs pretty sure he saw genuine muggle rocket science in the gingerʻs notebook. For elektricity, no doubt!

From what he could remember from this time period, it doesnʻt help that each time Oliver found and picked up Percy for dinner he looked worse and worse for wear. He was starting to get concerned for his friend. Oliver touches back down to the pitchʻs fluffy grass, nearly running into Potter himself. And Potter was a sight to see, his eye bags looking like he was punched in the face, twice. 

Maybe that wasnʻt so far from the truth. After their loss against Hufflepuff, Oliver upped the practices for Fridays, too. So every day after classes theyʻd all go down to the pitch and do drills, mock run throughs, and more drills. 

“Hanging in there, Potter?” Oliver asks, and Potter stares into the void. He looks around for one of his friends (they started getting called the Golden Trio by the Slytherins, it was gaining traction in Gryffindor, too) but couldnʻt find Ron and Hermione. 

“Devil Twins!” Wood calls out, causing two heads to turn in unison. “Whereʻs your brother? Potterʻs starting to look like Perce.” 

“Oh, Ickle-Ronniekins—” 

“Got sick of going to the practices—”

“To only watch us fly in the—”

“Same ten circles, fifteen up-and-downs—-”

“Thirteen feints—” Oliver cuts off the twin that was speaking. 

“Can you guys take Potter back? Or to Madam Pomfrey?” They nod, also in unison. Creepy. 

Fred (?) pokes Harry with the edge of his broomstick, and he almost falls over. Laughing, the one that didnʻt do the poking lets out a fake gasp of surprise, giving his broom to his twin. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, our poor Savior of the Wizarding World has been felled by none other than Oliver Wood!” Oliver is pretty sure thatʻs George. 80% sure. George scoops up Potter, carrying him like a princess and runs to the other Quidditch members. Fred follows close behind, waving the brooms up and down and proclaiming to the rest of the team that “Princess Potter needs beauty sleep.” And for Harryʻs defense, or as a showing of how bone-dead tired he was, he closed his eyes and fell right asleep. 

As they go to bother Alicia, Oliver feels a bit of mischief rise up within himself. So he calls out to them, “Make sure you noble knights protect the fair maiden.” They both salute him. Or George tries, still carrying Potter. Oliver wipes a hand across his face. Merlin, they might get detention from Snape, too. Where did they find the energy?

The trek to the library with the sun out is one of the prettiest walks Oliverʻs ever been on. Everything was so green . Oliver even thought he heard an honest-to-Merlin bird tweeting. He stretches his fingers, curling them up into loose fists before relaxing them at his side. For the first time in a very long time he felt good. He felt powerful. It was so peaceful, too. Maybe if the sky was this clear when full night came, Oliver would drag Percy away from the permanent eye strain long enough to look at the stars. 

A door, in desperate need of oiling, announces it's being opened as Oliver walks to the very back of the library. Most normal people used this secured location to snog or something even more disgusting. Instead, Percy capitalizes on the broken lock on the restricted section near the back left, using it to borrow higher-level books for his assignment prep. Oliver canʻt really blame Percy for that, since he’s used the exact same spot Percy studies at to revise Gryffindorʻs Quidditch plans. And a couple of times, he gave Ron the plans to look over and make sure that everything lines up. Merlin bless the Weasley family and their banal genius. 

“Perce.” Oliver calls out, not really worried about Madam Prince—she was asleep at her desk. Which Oliver would have been, too.  

“Hmm.” Someone grunts, and Oliver turns around to the other corner. He must have been studying potions, then. At the other end of the very back of the library, Oliver finds Percy hunched at a near right angle to the desk, a muggle candle the only light source as he rapidly scribbles notes for their potion essay. Oliver squints at the writing. It's a far cry from Percyʻs usual tight handwriting, long flowing, cursive loops. 

“Cʻmon, Percy, your writing is starting to look like an actual human being, you're going to malfunction soon.” Oliver jokes, reaching for the quill. Percy mumbles something about the transmutation of a liquid luck potion, tightening his grip on the quill. 

“Percy,” Oliver reaches for the quill but Percyʻs other hand stops him. 

“Hold on, let me just write this last thing then we'll head down to lunch.” 

"It's dinnertime .”

“But I left right before breakfast?” Percy says, voice monotone and eyes glued to the textbook in front of him. 

“What did you eat today?” Oliver asks, looking around the workspace for any snacks that he might have snuck into the library. 

“My will to live.” Percy says dryly, dotting his last iʻs and crossing his final tʻs. 

Oliver grabs at his chest, “Oh Merlin, he jests . Surely, you must have been possessed now.” He pretends to faint, leaning hard against the otherʻs chair. 

Then, honest to everything magical, Percy starts laughing . It's soft. Oliver had never really gotten his ever-uptight roommate to chuckle during their Hogwarts years, let alone laugh. Oliver thinks, at least. And it was loud, too. Resonating through the musty library halls. 

He can only look at Percy, mouth agape. And there he is, throwing his head back and laughing, even snorting . 

“Are you actually possessed?” Oliver asks, and he has half-a-mind to start doing some counter-curses just to make absolutely sure. 

Percy rolls his eyes, pushing Oliver off of his chair as he stands up. “Of course not, Oliver.” Then he sniffs, looking away haughtily. “I would have taken the Ministerʻs position if I had been.” 

“Another joke!?” Oliver guffaws, scrambling up to help Percy put away his study supplies. The quills are easiest, so Oliver sets his mind to grabbing the many that have scattered their way across the desk. 

Percy, always the quirky one, hated sharpening his quills, instead casting it to a pile and finding a new one. Well, forming a pile when he had the mind to. Except, these quills were a little odd. 

“Perce, what kind of anger are you working through?” Oliver asks, holding up all of the broken quills. Some had simply snapped at the very point, but others were, for lack of better word, maimed. Broken in half, the tiny feathers plucked out and knotted. Percy looks away, face turning an alarming shade of red. 

“Shove off, Wood. You've barely picked up a quill this semester. Why are you so suddenly interested in mine?” 

He holds up his hands, broken quills still in them, “I get the humor and the Wesley temper today? Maybe Iʻm the possessed one.” Percy rolls his eyes, the cheek! 

The ginger chooses to ignore him, carefully putting his work inside of his book bag. 

“Whatʻs for dinner, anyway?” Percy asks. 

“How should I know? We just finished up on the pitch.” Oliver replies, now grabbing at all the broken quill bits to banish later. “I might be pushing Harry a bit too hard.” Percy snorts. 

“Gee, you think?” 

“The cheek returns!” 

“Finish your story, Wood.” 

“He was about to fall over, so I had your demonic brothers go help him.” Oliver doesnʻt see it, but Percy freezes in his work as Oliver continues talking about Fred and George. 

“Itʻs been so long since Iʻve seen them both.” Percy says, something hollow. Something dead in his voice. Oliver snorts. 

“You're so dramatic, they just turned your porridge blue yesterday.” 

“Oh, right.” 

“Alright, I think thatʻs all of the quill bits. Oi! Perce, this is your bloody work, donʻt make me clean up the papers too.” Oliver says, already reaching for the piles. But Percy literally smacks his hand away. 

“Paws off my potions assignment, Wood. Do your own.” Percy then just shoves the assignment in his bag and heads to the door. Oliverʻs pretty sure he saw one of the corners crinkle!

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Percy?” Oliver jokes, pushing in the chair and casting a quick cleaning spell over the area. Percy tenses up midstep, too fast for Oliver to see, then turns to the man. 

“He grew up.” There was something off about the way he said it, but Oliver figures it was probably the stress of finals. They make their way to the Great Hall in relative silence. And the entire way, Percy was tense. Like he was waiting for something to jump out. The grip he had on his book bag was enough for his knuckles to turn white. And the closer they got to the Great Hall, the heavier Percy was breathing. 

Eventually, Oliver was sure his roommate was going to pass out. Before they made the last turn to dinner, Oliver yanked Percy by his collar in the opposite direction. 

“Come on, you introverted gremlin. Weʻll stop off at the kitchen and get dinner there. I could probably carry you if you fainted, but I donʻt want to test that theory.” He loosens his grips on the otherʻs uniform, and they both head to the kitchens, Percy a lot less nervous. 

“Thank you for that.” Percy says softly, “I didnʻt. Uh. It was.” He continues stumbling for words, but Oliver swats him on the back, hard. “No worries, Perce. Youʻve been in your dark, little cave for an entire day, of course people are going to be troublesome.” 

Percy quirks a smile, “Yeah, the light is almost burning my eyes.” Oliver was concerned, until he realized, “YOU MADE ANOTHER JOKE? Percy Weasley, ladies and gentleman.” Oliver announces, “One of the funniest people in the school.” 

“Yeah, you're just funny looking.” 

“Ooh, my heart. Perce, you might be too funny.” The walk to the kitchens is much easier for the both of them, small talk passing their way. It was nearly empty, all the other students at the actual dinner. 

The little pear gets tickled then the kitchen door swung open with the regular grandeur thatʻs expected from a secret passageway in a castle. Elves of all shapes and sizes, but mostly small and skinny in ratty pillowcases, were scurrying around the kitchen. Pots and plates floating everywhere, loaded with stews and bread rolls. Percy took a deep breath, almost leaning against Oliver with the exhale. 

“Wow, itʻs been a while since I ate.” Oliver laughs, waving down one of the elves. 

“ʻEllo! I is Blinky at your service.” Blinky blinks, “Why is the students not at the Great Hall?” Oliver shrugs, “This one,” Pointing at Percy, “Was too caught up in studying and we didnʻt want to go all the way there.” The lie falls easily off of his mouth, and he catches Percy looking at him weird. But Blinky gasps, then snaps. Two plates and a few bowls go flying to her. She ushers them to a table with tablecloths and cutlery flying to set itself up. 

“My, my! Blinky cannot be having students going hungry over studying. The students be sitting down now and Blinky be getting more food for them.” The table receives a nice vase with flowers as a last touch before they sit down, the food following soon after. 

In front of Oliver is the fluffiest mashed potatoes heʻs ever seen, the usual peas and carrots, with veal, reminding him of home. The bowl on his right was some sort of stew, with more carrots and meat popping through the thick gravy. He wasted no time in decimating the pile of food. 

Percy snorts, “Brute.” He says, digging into his own heap, no less energetic. 

“Hypocrite.” Oliver says, mouth full. 

Blinky comes back as promised, this time with the bread rolls Oliver had seen before, and grilled asparagus. “Here you two is, make to call Blinky if you is wanting anything else!” Then she snaps out of existence. 

“Merlin, bless house elves.” Oliver says, already with two rolls in hand, shoveling asparagus onto his plate. 

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Percy asked in astonishment as Oliver continued downing his food and water (he hated the taste of pumpkin juice). 

“Sometime yesterday, I think? I had one of the muggle granola bars that Hermione gave me for Christmas. Theyʻre really good!” 

“Oliver! We canʻt both have bad eating habits.” Percy whines, stealing one of the rolls from Oliverʻs plate instead of the big one literally right in front of him . But Oliver doesnʻt say anything, just grabs two more from the shared plate. 

“I was going over Quidditch plans for one of Ginʻs new chaser tactics.” Oliver says, running a napkin over his mouth. She was scary when she was mad. Not only with magic but just in brute strength, too. Having five brothers will do that to someone, Oliver guesses. 

“Good thing that Puddlemore and Harpies play on separate teams, she wouldʻve kicked your arse.” Oliver hums in agreement. Merlin, itʻs been such a long day. He canʻt wait to get back to their dorm and just knock out. Tomorrow was a Saturday, too. 

“What finals were you working on?” 

“Umm,” Percy rubs his eyes from under his glasses, nearly smudging the lens. “I donʻt even remember, now. Merlin, I think Snapeʻs? Maybe Remusʻ?” 

“ Remus? Whoʻs Remus?” Percy stills, then stumbles, “Oh fuck, I meant Lupin, Professor Lupin.”  Oliver chokes on his food, banging against his chest and pointing at Percy. 

“PERCY, YOU JUST SWORE!?” Oliver yells, Percy hushes him immediately. 

“You dolt, the elves are working.” 

“They need to know. EVERYONE needs to know. Was this your first swear word? Am I the first person to be witnessed to this? Could I make a moving photograph of this memory? I think Iʻll be able to sell it for 50 galleons, easy.” 

“Oliver Wood, youʻve got to be the dumbest…” Percy trails off, then smiles, “The dumbest FUCKING student in this school.” Oliver wheezes again.

“HE DID IT! AGAIN! PERCY, WEʻRE RICH! 100 GALLEONS!” They both end up laughing, nearly falling out of their chairs. 

Their meal finishes up soon after, Blinky wrapping up little cakes for them and their leftovers with a small stasis charm, “So you boys be not getting hungry during the studyings tomorrow.” She sends the boys off with the leftovers slowly levitating behind.

“I can see why Hermione started that Merlin-forbidden S.P.E.W. club.” Percy says as they make their way back to the dorms.  Oliver, cakes in hand, walking beside him.  Black shadows casted themselves across the floor as they started their ascent to the tower, halls empty of students. 

“Oh, that was a nightmare.” Oliver let out a chuckle. “I think Dobby—Potterʻs elf? Had, like, ten socks on each ear for a month.” 

Percy laughs, “No way. Oh, I miss Dobby.” 

“Me too.” Oliver says, a sudden solemness in his tone, muttering the password to the portrait, then holding it open for Percy. 

“What a gentleman.” Percy snarks. 

“Only for the prettiest ladies.” Oliver shoots right back. 

“Iʻm not the only one full of jokes tonight.” The ginger remarks, shoving their dorm door open and swiping a cake from Oliver’s hand.

“What can I say? Iʻve been inspired.” The leftovers descend on the desk closest to the door, Oliver taking off his uniform and searching for his sleepwear. 

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow, you know, that donʻt involve studying?” 

“Of course I do, Wood.” Percy says. Oliver is still rummaging through his trunk. Where is his damn sleepshirt? Itʻs silent, save for the rustling coming from either of the studentsʻ trunks. 

“Well?” Oliver pops his head up to look at Percy. But Percy just looks away. 

“Well…” 

“Oh, you liar!” Oliver throws his dirty uniform shirt at him. 

“Oh, the stench! What kind of foul torture have you been putting the Quidditch team through!” Percy yells, throwing the shirt to the other side of the dorm. Oliver laughs. 

“The winning kind!” 

“Go shower, you filthy creature!” Oliver laughs again, finally finding some clean clothes. 

“As you wish, but after I get out, go take a shower, and then , we’ll talk weekend plans!” Oliver says, shooting Percy a flirty kiss. 

“Thatʻs not helping with the accusations that weʻre dating, you know.” Percy deadpans. So Oliver pulls him into a hug and plants the most obnoxious kiss he can on the otherʻs cheek, with an over-the-top ‘mwaaaaaaah’ sound. 

Percy pretends to gag, rubbing at the spot on his cheek. His face turning a red so bright it could light Santa Clausʻ way through a snowy night. 

“Calm down, Rudolph.” Oliver says. 

“Wood, Iʻm strangling you as soon as you get out of that shower.” 

“Kinky.” 

The lock to the bathroom door releases, revealing a freshly laundered ginger. 1:07 A.M writes itself in glowing dust as Oliver checks the time. He fluffs up Percyʻs pillow—his bed was closer to the bathroom and Oliver really couldnʻt be arsed to move to his bed after today. 

“You done now, Princess Percy?” Oliver croaks out, rubbing at his neck where Percy had, indeed, tried to choke him out. The whole time Oliver was shouting different nouns as their ‘safeword’. 

“Some noble knight you are, why are you using my body wash when you have your own.” Percy asks, throwing his towel at Oliver. Who catches it because he was one of Puddlemoreʻs United star players til ʻ06. 

“But yours smells like piiiine. I want to smell like a tree.” 

Percy sniffs, “Youʻre a tree. Budge over, Groot.” 

Oliver relents, even moving the covers so Percy could slip under, “I’m not just any tree — I’m a gentle-tree, from a long line of Woods.” 

“But really, Groot?” 

“It was a good movie!” 

“Yeah, I liked it, too.” Oliver says, getting comfortable on Percyʻs bad. Damn, his sheets were way softer than his, he should have slept in his bed sooner.

“It was funny. My favorite character was Baby Groot with his powerfully stupid little dance.” Percy says, depositing his glasses on the nightstand and stretching a bit. With Percyʻs back to him, Oliver could see the night shirt ride up, to reveal a mostly healed scar on his left side. 

“Whatʻs this from?” Oliver asks, poking the scar. Percy ‘hmms?’, lazily looking down where Oliver prodded his skin. “Scrimgeour.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry, looks weird from this angle.” 

“No, itʻs fine. He was a sadistic bastard and Iʻm glad heʻs dead.” Percy waves him off, gratefully going under the covers. 

“Me too. Who knew heʻd kill one of his own.” Oliver mutters, looping an arm around Percy to draw him in closer. Even after all this time, Oliver still couldn’t muster Voldemort’s name out loud. Just thoughts, painful, hazed over, thoughts. “So, what are we doing tomorrow?” The Quidditch player asks, waving his hand to extinguish their dorm light. 

Percy shrugs, tilting his face so it's in the junction of Oliverʻs neck. He does smell like pine, that bastard. 

“I dunno, want to sneak out and buy muggle pens? I hate quills, and I'm too used to Papermate already.” 

Oliver chuckles a little, “Isnʻt that a Yank brand?” 

“I went to a Yank university, didnʻt I?” 

“Yeah, I still can’t believe you went back during the pandemic years, no less.” Oliver murmurs, running a hand through Percyʻs curls. His hair was soft, wispy too. Like a cloud. There's something tugging at Oliver’s brain, something he forgot. But it slips through his fingers, too. Oh, maybe it was something about the cloudless sky, tonight? 

“Thatʻs Dr. Percy - Ph.D - to you,” Percy mumbles, almost asleep. And with those words, whatever was in Oliver’s head floats away. 

“My bad, Professor .” Oliver emphasizes, sleep tugging at his eyes, too. “Yeah, weʻll get your stupid pens tomorrow.” 

“Mkay, love you, Ollie.” Percy says, tapping against Oliverʻs chest for his hand. Oliver curls his fingers together with Percy. 

“Love you too, Perce.” Oliver mumbles out. He never got the chance to ask if Percy wanted to see the stars. Sleep claimed the both of them before either could realize that almost every single thing they said simply couldnʻt have happened in their current year of 1994.

But that was alright, there would be other chances to gaze at stars under a cloudless sky. There was always room for second chances.