Normal Days

“I’ll kill them. I’ll actually murder them with my own hands. If they’ve not already killed us!” Percy yelled, slamming down the bag the twins packed them. It was filled only with condoms and various Quidditch supplies. 

“They didn’t even pack a broom.” Oliver mourns, half-heartedly tossing a quaffle between his hands. Percy is ready to pull out his hair. 

“No food, no way of communicating back to them. Not even clothes!” Percy swears a little bit, kicks a rock, then goes back to complaining, “We don’t even know where we are!” 

With their last papers turned in, Percy and Oliver were officially graduated. There had been a ceremony, a place to meet up with parents. Both Mrs.Weasley and Mrs.Wood were so proud of their sons, and their son’s boyfriend. After that it was a solid week of adjusting Brutus to his new home, with the Woods falling in love with the dog at first sight. 

Then, without any warning, Percy wakes up in the tropics of Britain with Oliver Wood and a duffel bag full of prophylactics and sports equipment. He didn’t even know Britain had tropics! 

“Well, I guess we should go exploring? Maybe we’ll find a town.” 

“Or a tribe of cannibals.” Percy grouches, grabbing the stupid bag from his stupid brothers and following Oliver. 

In all honesty, the place they were unwittingly sent to was beautiful. It was still overcast, but sometime early enough in the morning where the ground was crisp and the air was cool. Sweet grass and flowers were floating by on the wind, and there was a well-made path that the duo were able to follow. Of course, they followed this path in nothing but their pajamas and slippers. At least the twins had the good sense to abandon them for their death with their respective wands. 

A stream somewhere close to them pitter-pattered its water on smooth pebbles, splashing happily down its own path. They followed both the path and the stream for an hour, until they realized that walking anywhere in house slippers was a resoundingly bad and stupid idea. 

So they took a break, Percy transfiguring their slippers into shoes, finding leaves to transfigure into socks, while Oliver rooted through the bag in hopes of finding something edible. 

“Oh!” Oliver pulls out a smaller knapsack with a note attached to it. He reads from it: “We saw what Fred and George were putting inside of the bag and only had enough time to put this. Sorry. See you next week. From Hermione, Harry and Ron.” Oliver reaches his hand, then his entire arm into the knapsack, going so far as his shoulder. 

“Reminds me of Hermione’s beaded bag.” 

“She really should’ve patented the spellwork she did on that thing, it was basically a new way of using magic. Oh, thank Merlin, one of your brothers has a brain.” He pulls out his hand with two still warm bread rolls, tossing one to Percy. 

“He must have filched them just as the twins sent us off.” Percy says in between bites. 

“Looks like there are about a dozen. But next week? Are we going to have to hunt or something?” Oliver looks to the bag, then back to Percy, “Maybe they really are trying to kill us.” 

Percy sighs, then grabs another bread roll from the knapsack. “Maybe we could make some sort of platform and use it to float around and stake out any civilization. Like a budget magic carpet.” 

“But wouldn’t the muggles get tipped off?” 

“I really doubt any muggle would be here.” 

“There’s a well cleared path, though. I think if we don’t run into anyone or make any progress by late afternoon we should do that.” Percy shrugs. 

“Fine by me. What are we doing for food when the bread rolls run out?” Oliver sighs. 

“No clue. Maybe we could fish but,” Oliver walks a few steps to the stream to look at the size of the fish, if there are any. “We’d probably have better luck with birds.” 

“Well,” Percy stands, dusting off his pajama bottoms, “let’s continue our march to our death.” 

The other snorts, grabbing Percy’s hand as they walk down the path, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

And so their “march of death” continued, until the river widened out and the grass on either side morphed into a battered concrete trail. 

“I think this is where the cannibals come in,” Percy whispers, wiggling his fingers in Oliver’s face like he’s telling a particularly scary ghost story. 

Oliver, for the most part, rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s hope these cannibals have a restaurant that serves something other than humans, then.” They’d run out of the bread rolls about an hour in, but Oliver found a few water bottles in the expanded knapsack, too. 

The town was quaint. But it did look like a town suspiciously out of an old American Western, just if it took place somewhere green instead of the middle of the desert. The town in question was one long street, with establishments on either side. There were some people out and about, definitely muggles, that looked at Oliver and Percy strangely. Percy cleared his throat, straightening out his dressing down and trying to fix his hair. 

“Let’s find accommodations, then?” Oliver snorted. 

They walked through the street eyeing up all of the old signage, shoulder touching each other but nothing more. Each sign was not very creative with their advertising, “Grocery”, “Bank” and “Rainforest Cafe” were all as they said on the tin. But Oliver stopped just a little to peek inside of the Rainforest Cafe. 

“It actually does look like a rainforest in there, huh. Go figure.” Percy shoves him along. 

Near the end of the street, one of the signs says “Hotel” with big bold lettering. Going by the horseshoes and cowboy boots, maybe this town was themed after one of those American Westerns. They enter and are greeted with that sweet, nice muggle invention of air conditioning. 

The worker at the front clears her throat. She’s young, would probably be 5th year in Hogwarts, with blonde hair and smudgy eye makeup. “Howdy there, and welcome to Hotel. My name’s Holly, partners, what can I be doin’ for you.” Very disinterested, but the American drawl didn’t sound fake, she was genuinely a yank. 

“Oh fucking hell, are we actually in the Americas.” Percy says, gripping his chest. Did his brothers actually shell out the money to send them across the sea? Was this an illegal portkey? Fuck, they’re going to be in so much goddamned trouble when Percy gets a hold of them. 

“No, you’re in the good town of Faith in Wales, partner.” Holly drawls out, looking surreptitiously towards the door labeled “Employees Only” before taking out a packet of cigarettes. “Y’all smoke?” 

“We don’t.” Oliver says in response, nudging Percy gently. Holly shrugs. 

“Maybe y’all should start, then.” She lights up, then takes an exaggerated drawl and spits the smoke out in a lazy haze. “How many nights are you stayin’?”

“A week, if you have any availability” Holly chortles. 

“This place is as good as a ghost town, Brit. That’ll be £200.” 

“Yeah, of course, let me.” Oliver goes to reach for his wallet, but freezes when his hands meet the back pocket of his pajama pants. His wallet was still very much on his nightstand.

“I’m going to fucking kill them.” Oliver says instead, then looks back up at Holly who is staring at them in a sort of bored disinterest. She lets out a puff, smoke billowing out from her nostrils. Percy thinks she would get along very well with Charlie and Krum.

“Do you happen to know what kind of bank is at the front of the town?” 

Their footsteps are soft underneath the spongy grass. Orange rays blazes through the clouds as the sun makes its wavering descent, the sky prepping itself for night time. They make their way to the bank, before Oliver stops and groans loudly, grasping his head. Percy immediately stops, crowding his boyfriend (boyfriend!). 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Perce, I need an ID to access my muggle bank account. The ID that’s also in my wallet. Percy freezes, then also groans. 

“Would decapitation be too nice of a death for my brothers?” 

“Yes, it would be too fast.” 

Percy scrubs at his face, then looks around for muggles before casting a notice-me-not charm on both of them. 

“We can go about this two ways. One, we just camp out in the forest for the night, then work on finding some way to catch a ride from this town to somewhere closer to civilization so the Knight Bus can reach us.” They had already tried hailing for it, but it seems they were far out of range for the Knight Bus. Neither of them wanted to risk apparating either, since fucking Wales was way too far for either of them safely risk apparating. 

“What’s the second option?” 

“We rob the bank, buy the week at the hotel and just wait for Fred and George to take us back.” Percy said his words with such a deadpanned monotone that Oliver was almost taken aback. 

“Really? Robbing a bank? What are we, the Golden Trio?” Oliver looks at Percy incredulously, and they hold that stare for a few moments before devolving into laughter. 

“Well, it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful night. And with someone so beautiful by my side, it’ll be worth it to try out cowboy camping.” Oliver says, tangling their arms together and following the river back out to the rainforest they came from. 

Oliver was right, it is a beautiful night. The stars were on full display, their shelter nothing more than the hollow of a large tree that was off to the side of a small glade with wildflowers. 

“Maybe later we can recreate that god awful scene from Twilight?” 

“With the amount of condoms that your brothers gave us we could probably improve that scene,” Oliver says, to which Percy throws the aforementioned bag in his face. 

There’s a small fire in front of them, a thick blanket transfigured from some moss and young leaves wrapped around both of their shoulders. They ran out of food while in the town, but thanks to Oliver’s stupidly good athletics, a few birds were defeathered and roasting over the fire. In Percy’s hands were a few edible leaves and berries that he’d found along the pathway. He took turns plopping a few in his mouth, then tossing a few to his right to see if Oliver could catch them with his mouth. 

“I saw some caves on our way here, do you want to stake those out tomorrow for a possible shelter in case there’s rain?” 

“Sure. But it’s getting pretty late, we should probably start setting up if we want a chance to recreate that meadow scene.” 

The only reason they watched Twilight, then the rest of the series. And even the read the books, was Percy’s passionate declarations that the vampire they were watching was Cedric Diggory come back to life. 

“Perce, that guy sparkles.” 

“He looks exactly like him.” 

“He’s a yank!” 

“The actor is British!” 

Was how a good majority of their arguments went. But when the Golden Trio’s children were in their tweens, Percy and Oliver both had the time of their lives solemnly telling the tale of poor Cedric Diggory—forced to be the Dark Lord’s spare and come alive as a B-list celebrity. 

It truly took the cake when the actor was later cast as Batman. Ron almost killed them! 

But now, with the crackling fire and the calmings sounds of crickets getting ready for the night, sleep tugged deeply at both Percy and Oliver. It wasn’t too cold a night, and they’d already laid out some type of mattress transfigured from the same materials as their blanket. So, they ate their meal, extinguished the fire, then lay side by side to look up at the stars. Their stuff was crammed into the hollow part of the tree, but Percy and Oliver were more in the center of the glade, admittedly trying to recreate that flower field scene from Twilight. Except with a lot more wards and notice me not charms encompassing the entire area than was really needed. 

“Stooop, I’m trying to study for my English final.” Oliver says, trying to hold back his laugh as Percy attempted, once more, to get closer to him because it was getting fucking cold. 

“Why am I Bella?” Percy whines, Oliver finally relenting and allowing Perry to come closer. 

“Because I’m impossibly fast, and, and.” Oliver falters a bit, forgetting the exact monologue from the first movie, “So white. And seventeen.” 

“Oh?” Percy invades Oliver’s personal space. “And how long have you been seventeen?” Percy doesn’t realize just how close he was to Oliver until he looks up, to find Oliver himself looking back down. He closes his eyes, and the distance between them. 

A few hours later, the stars are firmly in the sky shining brighter than ever. Percy is using Oliver’s chest as his own personal pillow, running spindly hands along Oliver’s own roughened one. Through the moon and starlight, he’s able to make out the crookedness of some of his knuckles. 

“Has Quidditch practice really been this nasty to you?” Percy comments, running his fingers over a particularly mangled knot. 

“Nah, those were just the ones that didn’t heal right.” Oliver didn’t have to say what caused them to break in the first place. Partly because it would reveal himself as a time traveler, but mostly because he didn’t know what person or what spell caused it. War had been a flurry of action, going so fast and never slowing down. But now, here was Oliver, with his arms full of Percy and a sky full of stars. He let out a breath, relaxing in a way he didn’t think was possible. 

Yeah, he wanted this for the rest of his life. 

Beams of soft light hit Percy in gentle ways, splashed across his cheekbones and the tips of his hair. He was distracted, glasses still on as part of his attention was stolen away by the stars, picking out the constellations that were out and retelling its story. Oliver had heard them all before, but the excitement Percy’s voice took on as he details the myth, then tangents to the time he had heard the story could keep Oliver on the edge of his seat for the 104th retelling, if need be. Oliver tried his best not to think too hard about the situation he found himself in since it seemed like it was working itself out. But one of the things that really bugged him at first was if this Percy was his Percy. Because his Percy, with an addiction to his phone and settled well into married life, his Percy was. Well, maybe it wasn’t this Pecy. 

At least, that’s what he thought at first. Then this Percy continued to hold his hand on their way to break the rules. This Percy insulted him right back, squabbling like they really had been married. This Percy cried in front of him and let Oliver help him through his troubles. It didn’t matter if this Percy wasn’t his Percy because his Percy was still inside of him. And, and Oliver knew that he could be Percy’s Oliver right back. 

Oliver looks around their little patch of flowers. They were small blooms, maybe purple, maybe pink. They looked ethereal in the moonlight. He grabbed a few of the stalks, making sure his handful also had blooms. Then got out his wand and started casting. Percy, a little taken aback when he couldn’t have full access to Oliver’s hands anymore, turned over and looked up at the blurry mess of Oliver Wood’s face (his glasses were already put away for the night since they were supposed to be sleeping). 

“What are you up to?” But Oliver doesn’t answer, continuing to cast spells on his little handfuls of flowers. Percy rolls his eyes, but leans across Oliver’s chest nonetheless, so happy to hear the heartbeat that drums solidly in Percy’s ear. 

It wasn’t a bad habit, per se, but it was definitely a habit Percy took to after the war, especially in the early years after their marriage. Oliver became detached and Percy became paranoid. But they each had their own ways of dealing with it. And for Percy, it was counting each time blood pumped through Oliver, and each time he breathed in and out. For Oliver, it was zoning out a little bit, but that was alright with Percy. 

“There!” Oliver exclaimed, then sat up. The blanket pooled around his thighs and Percy was just. Happy to be there. To look at this wonderful sight. Oliver cleared his throat, and Percy snapped his eyes up to Oliver’s blurry face. Which became not so blurry as his glasses floated onto his face.

“You know, if we’re really doing the meadow scene from Twilight, it only makes sense to do it right.” And Oliver takes Percy’s hand, fiddling with something in the other hand. 

“Percy Weasley, you are someone that is going to be in my life forever. You are someone that makes me so, so happy. So loved. Even now, in the middle of nowhere with very few options as to what to eat or where to sleep—you’re here. And I’m all the better for it.” Oliver says it kind of like he’s joking, but his humor slides off as he ends. Because it’s true, Percy is his forever, his other half, just. His. And he was Percy’s, too. 

“Oliver.” Percy says, eyeing the metal shine in his other hand. His own heartbeat speeding up, getting louder in his ears. 

“Marry me?” Percy is not ashamed to admit that he did gasp, his hands did fly up to his mouth as Oliver showed him the ring. 

“Maybe not today, or tomorrow, even next week. But, marry me?” The ring is brought up to Percy’s face so the moon can hit it. The little flowers in the field were crystallized, each petal reflecting a different type of light. And each dainty bud was held together in a silver fastening of leaves and vines, the stalk of the plant. 

Last time, they didn’t even have an engagement band, Percy wore one of the Weasley family rings, and Oliver his father’s. But now? 

Merlin, last time their wedding was so beautiful—out in the field of the Burrow with their closest friends and family. So many empty chairs for those that were no longer there. And this time those chairs would be full. 

“Oh Oliver, this is so beautiful. Yes, YES,” The ring is put on his finger, then Percy lunges forward to kiss Oliver, both of them toppling over on their mattress. 

Morning time hits slowly, the sun yawning to extend its light through the puffy clouds. A storm was approaching, but it couldn’t take away from the happiness of the couple tangled together in their little meadow. 

“Morning.” Oliver murmurs into Percy’s ear. Percy smacks him away, rolling over to get a few more minutes of shut eye. Oliver snorts. 

“How loving.” 

“Love this.” Percy flips off Oliver, laughing sleepily into his pillow. 

“But I did? You were there last night, right?” Immediately, Percy’s face turns a bright red, sitting up properly to berate Oliver. Instead, Oliver kisses him softly. 

“Good morning to you, too.” Pery grumbles under his breath, the smile not really leaving his face as his hands fiddle with his new ring. 

They hunker down, packing up their camp site and trying to guess which direction they saw the caves. 

“Maybe we should find a larger part of the river, it’s been a while since we showered.” Percy says, shoving the last bit of their cookware into the bag. Oliver sniffs his own sleepwear, then shrugs. 

“Sure, with the kind of luck we got, it’ll probably be connected to some kind of cavern system.”

“Oh, please Wood. With the kind of luck we have it’ll probably lead us straight to Sirius Black himself.” 

While they were traveling to the little town out of an American Western, there had been a split in the river. When they first approached the split, they decided to take the left stream. Now, they went back to that split and took the right path. It didn’t take long for the ground beneath their feet to become squishy with hydrated soil, moss covering every available surface. They began trekking downhill, their feet scrambling for purchase against pliant dirt. Sure enough, the river opened up to a little pool, water trickling over the edge into smaller pools. 

“Whoa, this is pretty.” Oliver says, sitting down on one of the rocks' edges, legs dangling inside of the cool water. They started their little hike just as the sun rose, so now it was beating down on them, the water was a relief. 

“C’mon, then.” Percy says, shrugging off his own shirt and wrinkling his nose as his sweat absolutely drenched the poor piece of clothing. “Merlin, this is just another reason to murder the twins.” 

“Tell me about it.” Oliver responds, breaking off a couple leaves of a plant he’s 90 percent sure is medicinal to transfigure into soap. He chucks a bar at Percy’s head, who just manages to catch it. 

“Wow, maybe we could’ve made a Quidditch star out of you!” Percy scoffs, rolling his eyes as he furiously starts scrubbing at every available inch of skin he can reach. 

Soon enough, both them and their clothes are as clean as they can get, Oliver and Percy transfiguring a few more leaves before both of them idly bob in the pool. 

“This is really nice.” Oliver says, eyes closed as he debates the pros and cons of turning their little pool into a hot tub by heating the water. 

“Mhh.” Percy says non committedly, whispered spells coming from his direction. 

“Perce? You still planning how to do your brother’s in?” 

“Always, but that’s not what I’m doing right now.” 

“Then what are you—” 

“Hey! Don’t peek, Wood.” 

“Come off it, Perce, I’m going to be a Weasley soon.” Oliver remarks, a cheeky little smile on his face. Oliver still has his eyes closed, but he doesn’t need to see Percy to know that the other’s face is beet red. “So, for the wedding, I was thinking your place? Brutus could be our ring bearer—Merlin knows he’d do a better job than one of your brothers.” He says, imagining their wedding. The one they had just as Percy was gearing up to graduate was breathtaking, and if Oliver thinks hard enough, he can remember each vow he said to the other—and each one was held true to the very end, Oliver thinks bitterly. But soon enough, his mood is lifted. 

“Ok, open your eyes now.” Percy says, his voice a lot closer than before. The other smiles, opening his eyes to Percy right in front of him, 

“Hi.” 

“Hi, Oliver.” Percy settles himself on Oliver’s side, picking up his left hand. 

“You don’t have a ring.” Percy brings up Oliver’s hand, a weight settling over his finger. 

Also in silver, Oliver’s ring was done up in leaves, but in the center was a small river stone with black and grey streak going through it—polished and cut as a diamond. 

“Oh, Percy.” Oliver says, bringing the ring closer for him to see. The stone was smooth to the touch, but with such fine detailing at first glance it could have been mistaken for a precious diamond. 

“You like it?” Percy asks, fiddling with his own fingers, still beet red. 

“I love it. I love you.” Oliver says, pulling the other close. 

“If you guys are going to shag I’m throwing up in the water then leaving.” A voice calls out from behind them. 

And listen, reflexes are reflexes. It doesn’t matter how sweet the moment was, Percy’s wand flies to his hand then disarms the man and pins him to the tree. Oliver, with wand also in hand, doubles down on Percy’s spellcasting and does another round of pinning him to the tree. 

“Hey! If you want me to watch that’s fine, but it’s really not up my alley!” The man shouts again, struggling against his invisible bonds. His shaggy black hair get into his mouth as he talks, spitting out clumps of them. 

“Ah shit.” Percy cusses, then goes to the other side of the little pond to find his clothes so he’s not buck naked in front of Sirius motherfucking Black.