Normal Days

“I really do feel like alcohol is the right gift to bring to a funeral.” Oliver asserts, in between bites of the leftover food from his and Percy’s time in the kitchens. 

Percy rolls his eyes, straightening out the flowers he made Neville get from the greenhouse. It was compensation for betting on his and Oliver’s relationship (and winning). “It’ll also be our last gift we give to any of the teachers while still students at Hogwarts.” 

“Stick in the mud.” 

“Soon to be ex-Hogwarts student.” 

“Why? I’m not going to give Hagrid any alcohol.” Oliver says, fixing Percy’s crooked collar. For being so uptight about his appearance, there was always something that wouldn’t lay just so before they went out. 

“Thanks, I can never get the collar quite right. Because I’m going to wrangle you if you bring up the alcohol thing again.” Percy says, opening the door. 

“I thought your kinks were supposed to stay inside of the bed—” 

There was quite a bit of younger students who heard what Oliver was saying, and who observed when he got abruptly cut off by Percy WWE-ing Oliver over the bannister, face completely red. Oliver was quick enough to cast a cushioning charm in between his fits of laughter. Their trek to Hagrid’s hut was filled with Oliver teasing Percy about his horrible ginger temper. 

“For you, Hagrid. Oh, hi Harry, Hermione, Gremlin.” Percy outstretches the flowers. Blue powder came off one of the larger roses, causing whatever it touched to emit a soft glow. Hagrid grins broadly at them, stepping aside to let Brutus tackle Percy to the floor this time. 

“My, it seems they finally bloomed! I know Professor Sprout was trying all month for these little ones to get enough sunlight.” 

“Since Neville was one of the students to help with rotating the plants, he was able to give us some of the blooms.” Oliver says, heading over to tell Brutus hello. 

“He says that if you collect the powder and crush up the dried petals it can be used as apple flavoring.” Hagrid nods. 

“These grow wild out by the volcanoes in the forest—” 

“There is it again, are there actually volcanoes in the Forbidden Forest—” Ron gets cut off by Hagrid talking over him. 

“---And are a nice snack all on their own.” Hagrid eats one of the blooms. 

Oliver nudges Percy. “See, do you really think that was better than alcohol?” Percy swats Oliver. 

The five of them were early to Buckbeak’s funeral, Buckbeak was stomping outside with Fang. Oliver looked at the creature, trying to figure out how Buckbeak would get out of his execution. Hagrid lets out one of those deep sighs, running a hand through his combed beard. He was in his best clothes, hair nicely brushed and out of his face, too. 

“Oh, Hagrid what happened to your vase?” Percy asks, noticing the spilt over sand. Hagrid shrugs, looking uneasy. Percy repairs it, then Hagrid clears his throat. 

“I appreciate all of you coming down here, but I’m afraid you can’t stay. I ran into Dumbledore yesterday—good man was on one of his runs ‘round the castle—and he told me that one of the higher ups would be coming over too, making sure my Buckbeak gets. Get.” He sniffles, “Anyway. It wouldn’t look too good if you were here. Good kids, all of you. But you shouldn’t be here for something like this.” Percy goes to interject, but Oliver grabs his hand, nodding. Although whatever Oliver was going to say got drowned out by the Golden Trio’s shouts of friendship and sticking together with Hagrid through tough and thin. 

“ANYWAY,” But Oliver had the louder voice, “Perce and I are going to dip.” 

“Wait what, why are we going to—” 

“Good luck, Hagrid! We’ll stop by tomorrow—” 

“Let me down Oliver Wood, you brute! Put me down!” Oliver also whistles, patting his side for Brutus to follow them. 

“Bye kiddies, go home or else!” With Percy over his shoulder like a bag of rice and their dog following them, the other trio leaves. 

Left in the silence of whatever the fuck that was, Ron turns to Harry, “Professor Dumbledore runs?” 

“OLIVER WOOD.” Percy shouts, banging his bandaged hands on the other’s back. Come on, this Oliver was smaller than the one in his old time but how was he able to just pick Percy up like that.

As Oliver was manhandling poor Percy, they both failed to notice Albus Dumbledore and two others trailing behind him. One of them, a very portly man with a bowler hat, looked at the couple in disdain. The last fellow in the group, dressed in leather with a large ax, looked disinterested in being there. 

“Albus, can’t you control your students?” 

“Ah, young love.” Albus says in return, grateful for the sobriety potion he took that morning. 

Oliver and Percy traveled quite a ways into the forest, Oliver finally putting Percy down when they reached a clearing. There were smaller trees, the whole place looked almost ethereal with its blue glow. Percy would have been admiring the sight, even the sweet scent of apples in the air if he wasn’t so pissed at Oliver. 

“Percy!” Oliver said, finding a stick and sitting down on a rock. He begins drawing in the dirt. “Percy, I have a plan. We’re going to steal Buckbeak before Lucius and his goon kills him.” 

And the ginger’s a little floored.

“Are you out of your mind?” 

“No!” Oliver thinks about it, “Maybe a little bit?” 

“How would you—this is a ministry-ordained execution!” 

“But it can’t be an execution, if there’s nothing to execute.”

“What.” Percy deadpans. 

Oliver spends the next hour sketching out how they would lure away Buckbeak with treats into the Forbidden Forest until Lucius and his goon go away, then have Buckbeak fly away to somewhere safe. 

“Charlie wouldn’t have the means to shelter someone as big as Buckbeak. And I don’t think we could miniaturize him without any significant consequences.” 

Oliver hums and haws at it, then snaps, “What about that little cottage that Fleur and Bill settle in? It’s really remote. They wouldn’t mind.” 

“Shell cottage?” Percy clarifies. Oliver nods. 

“My aunt is currently in charge of it. It is under the fidelius charm. But I’m not the secret keeper. What about your parents’ place?” Oliver shakes his head. 

“Buckbeak is too much of a magical creature and they still live in a muggle community. Maybe we just…keep him in the Forbidden Forest?” 

“But if he seeks out Hagrid, then Lucius will just resume the execution.” 

“Maybe we could threaten Draco to tell his Daddy not to kill one of the best creatures in the world?” 

“Then Lucius would probably kill us.” 

Their plans were reduced to nothing more than petty squabbles at that point. Oliver groans in frustration, scuffing at his plans with his shoe. 

“I don’t want him to die, Perce. Not when I can stop it.” Oliver seeks out the darkness of his palms, putting his hands to his head. 

The defeat of Voldemort. It was supposed to be sweet. Supposed to have people cheering and celebrating just like that first war. But this second time? When the warriors were lanky teens and little kids? It was silent and bitter. Heaviness in the bones of those that remained, from the weight of the dead splayed across the floor. And Oliver was no different, he could barely walk. 

What did set him apart were the stares. Because when the war finished, it was very clear that he did not kill. He slaughtered, maimed. Blood worn more like cloth on his body than its true use. But Buckbeak, in those moments that mattered, came up to him. Bowed. Let him pet the ruffled and same blood-soaked feathers. Let him ride to Percy, Percy’s sobs. 

“Not anymore Percy,” The twig breaks under his grip. He feels hot all over, something bubbling up within him. “I’ve killed so much Percy. But Buckbeak still trusted me. Let me find my way to you. Flew over all the destruction, all the death. Just so I could,” Oliver can barely breathe, sweat dripping down his brow, soaking through the nice dress shirt. It was the colder months, but Oliver was burning up. Panting, he loosened his tie, trying to focus on something other than the extreme burning that came over him. 

“Oliver, Oliver what’s wrong?” Percy says, touching Oliver’s forehead then reeling back as if he was burned. He was burned. 

“Oliver?” 

“It’s, it’s so hot. But I cannot. Percy I cannot.” Oliver says in between wheezing breaths. Brutus starts growling, barking at Oliver. Percy whirls around, looking for any source of water, before mentally saying fuck it. 

“Aguamenti!” Percy shouts, summoning a burst of water to dump over Oliver’s head. The hiss of smoke comes off his body, the water near evaporating. Percy repeats the spell twice more before he’s able to touch Oliver, pulling him away from the rock. 

And just as he thought, the stone melts away, the very ground around them shaking. And with Oliver firmly behind him, burning and sopping wet, Percy watches in expectant awe as a volcano pops up from the ground. 

A what. 

Percy does a double take. And sure as the nighttime settles above them, a small volcano emerges from where Oliver was seated. 

A small mound, just coming up to Percy’s hip, with rock the same brown as the mud around it. At its main vent, slow streams of lava slowly but surely flowed down. This little lava stream turned the mud around it to some type of obsidian, sparks flying off whenever it met anything with liquid. 

“What.” Is all Percy can really say. 

“What is that?” Oliver slurs, fully leaning himself against Percy and soaking the back of Percy’s nice dress shirt and pants. Oliver goddamned Wood. 

“I’ve read about them in class, they’re volcanoes that can be used as sources of magical power. They’re rare because wizards would hunt them to extinction.” 

“Wow, Percy.” Oliver says, genuinely amazed at the depth of his boyfriend’s (his boyfriend!) knowledge of the magical world. “How in the world does your mind have the capacity to hold so much knowledge.” 

“That was a fucking lie Wood, I don’t know what the shit that is. We’re running NOW. BRUTUS, GO.” Percy fucking shoves him in the general direction of Hagrid’s hut and the school before booking it himself. Brutus is at the end, nudging Percy every so often when he starts losing steam. 

“What do you mean you just made that up?!” 

Somewhere in the near distance, they hear a wolf howl. They try to run faster. 

“I thought Hagrid was joking, I didn’t know there were actual volcanoes in the Forbidden fucking Forest!” Their feet were getting caught in grabbing underbrush as they almost reached the exit of the Forbidden Forest. But it all goes to shit when one of the grubby branches yank at Oliver’s pants, sending him tumbling down an abrupt dell. Percy reaches out to steady him, but is no use and goes tumbling down. Brutus barks after them, following. 

“OW, FUCK!”  Oliver exclaims, head landing square on a very blunt rock. Percy comes tumbling after, unceremoniously landing on his poor legs. Then their wonderful dog, literally piling on top of Percy’s back. 

“Everybody ok?” Percy asks, voice strained. He can feel a sharp twinge of pain every time he tries to move his arm, and knows that it’s probably strained, if not sprained. Or some other word for just-barely-broken. 

“No.” Oliver says, grabbing Percy and rolling over on his side so they’re face to face. They landed in some type of glade. Trees big enough to fit small houses surround them, a little lake in the center. With the mist and full moon, it would have made an ideal picnic spot. 

“Your breath stinks, Wood.” 

“You suck.” Oliver says in kind, kissing him just to make sure he’s in one piece. 

“SIRIUS!” Their tender moment is broken by Potter’s call. They both turn their head and notice a lump on the other side of the large puddle they were splayed across. Oh. 

“Is that a rock?” Percy whispers, straining his eyes. His glasses got lost somewhere in the squirmish, so really Percy can’t see shit. 

“I think it’s a body.” 

“Sirius, oh no.” Harry says, turning over the body of his godfather to see the mars and scars across the man’s torn clothes. 

“Sirius!”

“Shit, we should go to help.” Percy says, idly aware that the slick thing on his hands is probably his blood. But fuck it, we ball. His mental state is not the greatest, but in situations like these—the dangerous kind, it’s probably better that the mental state is in disarray. Never let them know your next move. 

Just as Percy helps Oliver stand up, the little pond that separates them and Potter starts freezing over with ice. 

“It’s not that cold, is it?” Oliver says, but does notice a distinct chill that overcomes him. Then the entire lake freezes over. 

Now Percy may be blind, but he’s not stupid. That stupid. He remembers, vividly, when Harry told them about facing off with the dementors in his third year. 

It was Harry’s third year, and as if on cue, a dementor swoops down to Sirius and Harry. 

“Oliver.” Percy gasps out. Because nah. Oliver holds tight to Percy’s hand, very aware of the open wounds that the ginger sports now. 

“Dementors.” The ginger manages to get out, before an aforementioned dementor swoops down to Percy, too. Shrouded in black, its skeletal ‘fingers’ stretch out to Percy’s face, holding onto each cheek as it captures a piece of his misery, bringing the memories up to the forefront. Knees hit the rough quasi-shoreline, sobbing as the memories that had been buried not too long ago resurface. Fresh as the blood that drips down his hands. 

“Sirius!” Harry screams out.

“Expecto patronum. EXPECTO PATRONUM.” Oliver watches for a few moments as Harry desperately tries to cast the spell. Large flashes of that signature blue light, but just the flashes. Not the stag that he was known for in the latter half of the school year. Not the solidness of Prongs, as he later called his patronus while in the field. 

And Oliver tries to, to call his own patronus to arm. But with Percy conked out, injured and better. With his own mental and physical injuries rising up to the forefront, Oliver can’t find it in himself to be happy. Can’t find any of those fuzzy feel good memories that he spent so long cultivating with all of his loved ones. Now it was only despair, looking out into the near sea of cloaked figures that waited to take a bite out of Oliver. 

Why didn’t they take a bite out of Oliver? 

“EXPECTO PATRONUM.” Oliver hears, snapping his head to the left side of the lake. Oh shit, wasn’t this the year Harry and Hermione did time travel. 

Twinning, lmao. 

A huge burst of blue light crowds that side of the lake, the past Harry covers his eyes as Prongs, in all his wonderful glory prances out, then scares away the dementors. Brutus boofs at the corporeal patronus, sticking out his tongue to try and lick it when it pranced Oliver’s way. Oliver outstretched his own hand, trying to pet it, too. Then decided that sleep was a nice idea. So hand firmly in Brutus’ collar to drag him down to him and Percy, Oliver lied down and also passed the fuck out. 

The next time Oliver comes to, he’s in the Hospital Wing, with the curtains drawn around him. Groggy, and a little disorientated, Oliver tries to stand up. A hand pushes down on his chest to stop him from getting up. 

“Oh no you don’t.” 

“Percy?” Olive croaks out. Something presses against his lips, and Percy lets Oliver sit up a bit so he can chug the glass of water. 

“What happened?” He looks around. “Where’s our dog?” Percy rolls his eyes. 

“Hagrid took Brutus back. After the dementors attacked us, Dumbledore found all of us. I woke up a couple hours ago, but it looks like we slept through most of the action. I don’t remember it fully, but I’m pretty sure he carried both of us over his shoulder. On one shoulder.”

“What happened with Sirius? Refill?” Oliver puts on his best puppy eyes as he holds out his cup. Percy gets the pitcher, explaining as he fills up Oliver’s cup. 

“He broke out of the holding cell. Dumbledore thinks it was his accomplice that helped him.” 

“He has an accomplice?” Shock colors Oliver’s words. Was it Remus? 

“Yeah, Buckbeak. He also managed to escape his execution, Hagrid thinks he undid the chains and ran off. He’s being called a creature of the dark arts.” 

Oliver can’t help it, he starts laughing. Percy holds his cup as he grips his side. Buckbeak was alive! And so was Sirius! 

“Glad to see a mass murderer on the loose is funny to you.” Percy remarks, no real venom in his voice. He puts down the cup, then has Oliver budge over so they can share the bed. 

“You know, I could’ve sworn you took more damage than me. How come you woke up earlier than me.” Oliver said, turning so one of his bandaged arms (who, when did that happen) rests over Percy’s midsection. 

Percy sniffs, crowding close to Oliver. “That damned volcano.” 

This time, they both collapse in a fit of giggles. 

It’s somewhere close to noon when Oliver woke up, and a few hours zoom by with just him and Percy talking about that damned volcano and Percy’s stupid brother and his equally stupid friend. In the afternoon, when classes get out, they get an entire squadron of visitors. Of course, when Angelina pulled back Oliver’s curtains, Percy jumped out from the bed in surprise, scaring all three of them. 

Alicia promised Wood that even though he was on his deathbed, they would still do their practice today. And, with the small mental affirmations Percy made himself go through, he was able to be in the same room as both of the twins without breaking down into a sobbing mess. So when the Quidditch team visited, it went relatively well! 

Fred and Geroge stick behind as the rest of the Quidditch team leave. Fred leans against the nightstand, George leaning against Fred. 

“So, brother dearest,” George starts, Fred continuing. 

“We’ve been reflecting on—”

“Your recent stresses with school—” 

“And the like. And we’ve—” He points to the both of them. 

“Settled on a—”

“Stupendous” 

“Magical” 

“Extraordinary” 

“Romantic” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“GETAWAY TRIP!” They say in unison, each doing small jazz hands. 

“What.” Percy says. 

Fred pulls out a little brochure that is very obviously a folded piece of parchment that they doodled all over. The front of the parchment, done in over elaborate chicken scratch says “Percy and Oliver sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G” with a big heart surrounding it. The picture is even animated, so that every five seconds, little bits of drawn confetti explode out from the heart. 

“What.” Oliver says. 

“As soon as school ends, you two love birds will be transported to the vast, breathtaking beauty of all muggle Britain's forest has to offer.” 

This time, Percy turns to Oliver. “Is this an assassination attempt by my own siblings?” Oliver nods his head solemnly.  

“No way to call for help, no one around us for miles. We’re dead meat.” The twins cackle. 

“We’ve already cleared it with Mum and Dad!” 

“They’re over the moon that Percy’s dating.” 

“And dating someone so upstanding” 

“As that nice young lad, Oliver.” That twin tries to impersonate Molly to an almost scarily accurate degree. 

“And we have done the upmost—” 

“Brotherly thing—” Both stand, with arms linked. 

“And packed your bags!” They bow, then scram as Percy pulls out his wand. 

Yeah, his PTSD with a dead brother is certainly sealed for now. In fact, in this current place and time Percy wants to kill both brothers out of sheer embarrassment! 

“Knowing them, they probably put condoms in those luggages.” 

“And pranks.” Oliver chuckles, pawing Percy close. 

“So many pranks.” 

When Ron and the rest of the Golden Trio stop by to see them, he just has to physically restrain Wood from, in Ron’s own words “deflowering his brother”. 

Oliver rolls his eyes, “We were just kissing.” 

“YOUR HAND WAS—” Percy cuts him off really fast. Hermione is blushing, both her and Harry unable to look at Percy or Oliver in the eyes. 

“THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR VISITING US IN THIS TIME WHERE WE ARE BOTH INJURED.” Percy cuts in, hugging his brother, very, very tightly. Ron mocks him, but does hug him back. He tottered into their area of the Hospital Wing, his leg still a little tender. 

Hermione and Harry were also battered, Oliver spies a cut along one of Harry’s arms and Hermione favoring her right leg. Despite this, all of them seemed a lot lighter than when they met up for Buckbeak’s funeral. 

“I- I brought Exploding Snaps!” Hermione cuts in, holding up the box. Harry, following her lead, pulls out a small box from his pocket, casting a charm to return it to its regular size. 

“And I brought some chess. We figured you two could use the company. Er. Of course. It seems like you were. Uh. Occupied.” The tips of Harry’s ears go red, looking at the very interesting ceiling. Ron’s anger seems to reignite at that, so Percy smacks him on the head so he’ll calm down. 

“Nonsense. Going up against someone like Ron for Wizarding Chess? No wonder all of you were sorted into Gryffindor.” Percy’s comment seems to dissolve a bunch of the tension. They gather other chairs, Hermione transfiguring hers out of one of the sweets Oliver doesn’t like, and set up the exploding snap and wizard chess. 

Ron and Oliver go head to head with Wizard Chess, Percy content to heckle both of them. Hermione and Harry play Exploding Snaps. 

One of Oliver’s pawns gets shot in the fucking skull point blank by Ron’s overpowered knight (A/N: I don’t know how to play chess). Oliver bangs the little table Percy transfigured, the sleeves of his robe revealing how far his bandages went up. 

“Yikes, mate.” Ron says, pointing at Oliver’s injuries. Percy smacks away his hand, muttering how rude it is to point at people’s injuries, “You got all of that from the fall?” 

“Huh, this?” Oliver scrunches up his face in confusion. Did he? So to Hermione and Percy’s strong insistence that he stop unfurling his bandages, Oliver unwraps his bandages to find healing burn wounds. 

“Merlin.” Oliver breathes out, running his other bandaged hands over the healing wounds. It was almost scaly under his skin, a small network of red over tanned skin. “I got this from falling down?” He asks Percy. 

Percy goes closer to Oliver’s wound, fully ignoring Ron’s protests that they should respect each other’s personal space. 

“No, I think that was from the volcano.” 

Ron throws his hands up, then points at Oliver, then to Percy. 

“That’s it! Are there actually volcanoes in the Forbidden Forest!?” The couple look at each other. 

“Anyway.” Oliver turns to Harry, “I saw your patronus. Impressive, it was a deer, right?” 

Harry pulls back his hand just in time to avoid getting his finger bitten off by one of the cards. “Yeah! Wow, I’m surprised you were conscious enough to see that.” Oliver shrugs.

“I was in and out, if I’m being honest. But a little head trauma never stopped me.” Ron murmurs some particularly nasty insults about Oliver ignoring his question, sending out his Rook to evaporate Oliver’s last horsey piece. 

“Hey!” Quickly, Oliver waves his hands to clear the smoke away from the board, Percy banishing the acid before it can eat through the wood of the chess board. Oliver moves his Queen, the chess piece taking out a sword and cleaving through one of Ron’s bishops. Little stone entrails drip out from the piece. 

“But yeah, it was my first time casting a fully corporeal patronus.” 

“That’s really impressive, Harry. Most full grown witches and wizards can only do non-corporeal.” Hermione says, about to pull about the entire statistics of what the patronus of each famous witch and wizard is. 

“Oliver’s is really funny.” Percy says, trying not to laugh at the thought of it. All eyes turn to him. 

“You can cast a corporeal patronus?” Harry questions. 

“Can we see it?” Hermione follows, nearly bowling over the exploding snap deck to slam her hands on her and Harry’s table. 

“Checkmate!” Ron exclaims, his Queen getting a chair and hitting Oliver’s bishop over and over until it's reduced to dust. 

“Uh. I don’t have any. Happy memories to think of right now. You know, injured at all.” He looks at Percy. “Maybe you could help me with that.” 

Ron gags. Harry gags. Hermione gags. 

Percy kisses Oliver. A very PG rated kiss. A Disney kiss (foreshadowing)!

“Fine.” He readies his wand, really hopes he can do a patronus in a body this damn young—he didn’t figure out how to fully make it corporeal till his thirties, Merlin, Potter was strong. Then he focuses on Percy. The happiness of holding him in the library after they got engaged. Their wedding day. Even the simple bliss of those peaceful days cozied up in their cottage, with the rain knocking against the window panels. 

“Expecto Patronum!” The same blue light that surrounded them in the glade pours out from Oliver’s wand, the silvery mist rippling as waves. From the center of the light, something begins to take shape, almost stick-like, as small arms on their side pick up what look to be buckets. 

“What kind of creature is that?” Ron asks, confused. Hermione’s eyes light up in recognition, humming something to the way the creature “walks”. 

“Is that a broom?” Harry asks, something familiar about it. 

And Harry’s guess strikes true. A broom with two little arms carrying buckets marches around their hands, putting down its buckets every now and then to dump them out. The same silvery blue mist flying out from the bucket with fluttering splash. 

“It’s from the Sorcerer's Apprentice. Oh! I love Fantasia.” Hermione says. 

“Fantasia? Is this a muggle thing?” Ron asks, Harry shrugs. 

“Yes! Oh, it’s this wonderful musical with all these lights. One of them is when Mickey Mouse—” 

“Who?” 

“When Mickey Mouse gets this hat from Merlin—” 

“The muggles know about Merlin?” Percy was trying his hardest not to laugh at Ron’s amazement at Disney. 

“And he animates all of these brooms.” Hermione stops abruptly. Realizing she was a little too invested in Fantasia. 

“How about we all watch it together if Oliver and I come back from whatever hell trip the twins planned for us?” Percy suggests. Hermione lights up, agreeing instantly. 

“You really like brooms.” Harry says. Oliver shrugs, chuckling a little bit. The pure cheer he was getting from the patronus, but just from having his family close was making him a little loopy. 

“Not as much as Ron likes the volcanoes in the Forbidden Forest.” 

“I KNEW IT.”