Chapter 1: call it what you want

First year

Tuesday, September 1st, 1987

"My breath's gettin' short and I'm unsteady

Wellin' up in tears as I lay upon your belly

Telling you, "I'm fine I don't really need nobody

But you say through a sigh

That I said that lie already"

- comfort crowd

Until that very moment, Oliver Wood believed in Fate, in a written in stone future, a whole life already decided and waiting for him to simply live it. Perhaps that was something easy to believe, a future where your choices didn’t change a thing, after all, a future where any blame for wrong decisions would not fall on himself, but in Fate.

That belief suddenly changed when Oliver found himself facing the most life-changing decision of his life. Perhaps everything that brought him to that moment had been a work of Fate, the Sorting Hat putting him on Gryffindor, that specific dorm being his dorm - and the boy’s looking at him as if Oliver had some kind of mental incapacity he couldn’t quite name. But that moment was like a choice, one he would make and change everything in his life.

Some could argue that his whole life was already changed considering everything Oliver knew to be his day-a-day routine was gone, left in the 9 ¾ platform with his parents waving goodbye and good luck on this new life they wouldn’t be part of. Some would say Oliver’s life changed when he saw Hogwarts for the first time, night had already fallen and consumed the horizon, no clouds in the summer night to hide the stars that shined brighter than ever. The castle looked like everything he imagined and nothing like that at all, it looked like a dream and an undeniable reality, it looked beautiful and scary and breathtaking and new. But even that wasn’t quite a surprise to Oliver. He always knew Hogwarts would be his future.

So everything seemed a bit predictable, all the stories his parents told him lining up perfectly with the reality; the tables spread around the long hall, the amazing food, the professors, the hat, the students, the uniform, the magic roof of the dining hall, the dormitories, all of it.

He loved it, of course. Every second since his arrival seemed utterly… well, magic. Amazing, awesome, perfect, dreamlike. Breathtaking. But Oliver liked surprises more than he liked magic. He liked adventures and his heart beating hard in his chest when he was almost caught doing something he shouldn’t be, he liked the excitement and unpredictable things. And how can you have all of that doing something you know how will end? Doing something allowed by the rules?

Once, when he was younger, he saw his mother reading a newspaper with the headline ‘ILLICIT AFFAIRS IN THE MINISTRY!’, and asked his mother what “illicit affairs’ meant. She said, with the most loving smile that seemed to be always glued to her face: “Oh, my dear boy! Don’t you worry about it!”, but of course, Oliver did worry, and ended up looking at this muggle book to find out.

Two meanings for the same expression, apparently. The first one had him blushing, but the second made more sense in the newspaper case - or at least that’s what he hoped. Some illegal occurrence. Illicit meant forbidden by the law. Illicit sounded fun. Illicit sounded unpredictable, sounded like an adventure.

Thus Oliver came to Hogwarts with two words in mind: illicit adventures - he did not like the word affair after all. Although he doubted Fate would let him have this kind of fun there. Fate, somehow, looked weirdly like his mother.

So everything about Hogwarts was expected. Until that moment. It felt huge, and he didn’t even know why. Somehow, the first thing he chooses to say to that boy is extremely important, and Oliver just knew it will change everything.

What he didn’t know is what exactly he should say.

And he definitely should because the boy is starting to look at him weirdly.

“Is there a problem?”, the boy finally asked, ginger hair falling into his face in a way that made Oliver wonder if the boy could see anything at all. Oliver wished he couldn’t, because suddenly he was extremely aware he had been staring for the past five minutes in complete silence at the boy. But, if his question was any indication, he clearly could see, and had, indeed, noticed Oliver staring. Perfect, he thought, before answering.

“No! None whatsoever! Everything is fine, perfect even”, and it sounded so terrible Oliver had the urge to hide under the bed he was sitting in.

“Are you sure?”, the boy pushed his hair out of the way and really looked at Oliver, noticing the messy hair, the pink cheeks, and definitely the grimace on his face. “Because you’re in my bed. Unless you’re also called Percy Weasley, which would be weird”, he said, looking at the luggage that clearly said Percy Weasley laid in front of the bed Oliver was on.

“Oh, shit.”, he said, getting up so fast his vision blurred. “I’m sorry. Damn it”, he muttered and shook his head. That definitely wasn’t what he was going for in that life-changing moment but it was a little bit too late to sound cool and laid off, which, honestly? He was - most of the time, anyway.

“No problem. Are you going to tell me your name so we can find your bed, or should I just call you by mine?”, but the boy was smiling, and so was Oliver a moment later, shaking Percy’s hand excitedly.

“Oliver Wood”, he offered the other boy, who agreed with his head to show he got it.

“Percy Weasley”, he said, making both of them laugh.

And it was on that very first day at Hogwarts that everything changed for both of them. Perhaps Oliver was wrong and they were always meant to meet and become friends, or perhaps he was indeed right, and that friendship was pure luck. When thinking about it years later, Oliver liked to think it was the latter, because then it was his actions that brought Percy into his life.

And years after that, Percy also liked to believe Oliver’s presence in his life was purely Oliver’s fault because it would be utterly stupid to be mad at Fate, seeing that he couldn’t hit Fate, but could most definitely hit Oliver.

______________________________________

If someone asked Percy Weasley how exactly he became friends with Oliver Wood, he wasn’t sure what he would say. The first thing that crossed his mind when he met the other boy was: what a bloody moron. Which, come on, it was fair. The guy was sitting on Percy’s bed and staring at him in complete silence for more than a minute.

So no, they didn’t become friends on that first day - although Oliver surely thought so. When then? When Oliver Wood became his friend?

Perhaps during the first class, they ever had together, Transfiguration. When Percy left the room in the morning, Wood was still completely asleep, and the other two boys who shared the room with them were already gone. He didn’t take to himself to wake Oliver up, so the boy was late, still sleepy and clearly hungry when he sat at Percy’s side, sculling.

“Mr. Wood, how considerate of you to join of today”, said Professor McGonagall, shocking the shit out of everyone in the room since there was only a cat in the place where the professor stood seconds ago. Everyone but Percy and Oliver, who seemed not to have the energy to be alarmed.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Professor. It won’t happen again”, the grin on his face, though, told Percy it would most certainly happen again, and yet another time. But perhaps McGonagall didn’t notice or didn’t care because she simply nodded and started the class.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”, Wood whispered beside him. Percy promptly ignored him and kept writting down everything the professor said. “Oi! Are you ignoring me?”, and honestly, what a stupid question! Oliver was whispering in Percy’s ear, so of course, he was hearing him, meaning the reason he wasn’t answering had to be because he was busy!

“Yes. Please, be quiet”, Percy added, when Oliver seemed ready to say something else.

“Rude”, he muttered under his breath and proceeded to look at Percy’s note with forced interest.

“Could you stop that?”, Percy asked, starting to get annoyed.

“Stop what?”

Percy rolled his eyes at the faked innocence, “Looking at my notes, pretending you care”, he clarified.

“I could, yes. Will I? Probably not”, and he sounded bloody proud of himself. “This class is so boring I honestly don’t see what else I could do to pass the time”.

“You could try to pay attention and write down something”, Percy offered, desperate for the other boy to leave him alone so he could focus on what the professor was saying.

Oliver laughed. “Why the hell would I do that? You’re already writing everything down! One of us will need that later and that is clearly me. Thank you, by the way”

“For?”, and even though he would never admit it, Percy found himself almost laughing.

“Letting me borrow your notes when we have a test. Really sweet of you, Weasley”

Percy, for some reason, decided to stop taking notes whatsoever to put his entire attention on Wood, who smiled openly at him. “You know what they say about me, Wood. I’m the sweetest”, Oliver barked a laugh and McGonagall stopped talking and looked over at them.

Percy immediately regretted answering Oliver when the professor said, “Something funny about what I said, Mr. Wood?”

But Oliver didn’t seem bothered in the least, and answered calmly, “No, ma’am.”

“Something you would like to repeat, Mr. Weasley?”, Percy knew he was pale, but he shook his head and said, “No ma’am”, just like Oliver, and then shoot the boy an angry look. This was his fault. If only he could actually be mad and stop hoping Oliver would go back to whispering things to him.

Which, of course, he did.

“So?”

“What?”, Percy tried to sound mad, but failed miserably and Wood seemed to realize that, a smile growing on his face.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”, Wood insisted, the way he looked at Percy showing he would indeed like to know, both hands against the wooden table and a serious expression where seconds ago there was a laugh in all of his features.

Until that moment, Percy hadn’t realized what it was about Wood that made him shine, but know it seemed so obvious Weasley was disappointed in himself for taking so long to notice; Oliver Wood laughed with his whole body. He threw his head back and his lips tugged into a huge smile and his eyes… well, to be honest, Percy couldn’t quite point what changed in the boy’s eyes when he laughed, it only seemed to laugh with him.

So Oliver’s serious expression seemed so fake Percy didn’t even bother laughing at it, he simply shrugged, “Didn’t feel like it”

“Um, rude. Could you possibly think it incredibly exciting next time and throw a pillow at me?”

And it was so perfect Percy couldn’t help himself, “I could, yes. Will I? Probably not.” Oliver laughed again, this time blocking the sound with his hand so McGonagall didn’t hear him.

The rest of the class passed in a hush of whispers and quick laughs - because Wood seemed to laugh a lot -, but Weasley couldn’t help but noticed he left the classroom smiling and with the other boy by his side, saying something probably inappropriate.

_______________________________

But perhaps it wasn’t exactly then, but a bit later on the same day. They were at the dining hall, it was lunchtime and Oliver was putting as much food on his plate as possible. Percy realized how hungry the other Gryffindor might be, considering he hadn’t had time to eat breakfast.

Oliver put a scary amount of food on his mouth while trying to talk to Percy about something he couldn’t understand enough words to make sense of, so he simply nodded and ate his own food.

And it felt nice. To just be there, listening to Oliver mumble about something, be part of this conversation - even when Percy had no idea whatsoever what Oliver was actually talking about. Because it was the first time someone clearly paid attention to him, and it was so good.

Oliver was talking to him, laughing at his jokes, trying to be part of his life. And Percy never had there before.

With a big family, no one paid close attention to Percy. He wasn’t the elder, that was William, born six years before Percy. He wasn’t the cooler, that was Charlie, four years older, the seeker of Gryffindor’s quidditch team and prefect. He didn’t get as much attention as the twins, of course. Ron… well, Ron was like him, he guessed. A bit invisible. Forgettable. And well, no one could compete with Ginny, not only the youngest and cutest, but also the only girl in the pack.

So Percy was used to not being paid attention to. He didn’t have friends, he didn’t want nor need them. He had one goal only: be the smartest. Take that away from precious Charles and maybe his name would be remembered by his family after all.

Of course, Percy loved them. All of them. But it still hurt to be called by his brother’s name or not called at all.

He had one goal only and that did not include Oliver Wood at all. But still, there he was, talking and talking and laughing as if Percy was someone important to him as if he saw him for himself, he saw Percy as… Percy. And he was still there, still talking, still smiling, perfectly happy. As if Percy’s presence was something to be completely thrilled about.

And at that moment, while Wood laughed at something only he understood and gestured with his hands while talking, in the dinning room, on their second day in Hogwarts, Percy Weasley couldn’t help but love Oliver Wood a bit. He just didn’t realize he would never be able to stop.