The first time Oliver Wood ever spoke to Pitifully Proper Percy Weasley was when he became Head Boy.
Despite being in the same class, Oliver never bothered to interact with the quiet boy with his old, but impeccably pressed, hand-me-downs. Nobody really did. For the first year Poor Percy was all alone, his nose always buried deep in a hardbound textbook of some sorts, as though locking himself out from the world that refuses to include him. But many a times Oliver would glance at Percy, observe this curious creature. Percy Weasley is many things. He is studious, solemn. Quick to anger but sullen in displeasure. His shirts are always too big for his skinny frame, his shoulders the only things that held his cloak and shirt from falling straight to the ground. His pants were never of the right length; in the first year his pants, which used to belong to his brother Bill, were too long. Often a times Oliver would watch as Percy fall flat onto the ground from tripping over his own pants, much to the laughter of the other students who saw. After the third year, however, they became too short, showing off his thin ankles. Even his ankles have freckles! How amusing, Oliver thought, when Percy's cloak fluttered aside to show his pants. In Potions, Oliver would just blatantly stare at the back of Percy's head, until Professor Snape threw a newt right smack onto his forehead and gave him a week's detention, did he break his gaze.
Still, Oliver never found the need to walk up to Percy and talk to him. And obviously Percy wouldn't do the same either. They had nothing in common. Percy himself would rather have the company of his books and homework than that of a rabid Quidditch player.
So Oliver continued watching Percy.
Percy would always shower before the rest of the boys do, and always quick ones, emerging from the bathroom smelling like hot skin and soap. Percy never smell bad every time Oliver passes him by. He would always smell like the same brand of soap he uses, as though smelling remotely of sweat would be very improper of him. Very unlikely of Percy Weasley.
Oliver watches as Percy writes with his right hand, his fingers curving around the quill as he grips it tight, scribbling away his always grade A essay. The boy rarely smiles, laughing was even rarer, even when he does, it was about the things no one else really understands, like a slight printing error in a page of the Potions textbook. He always sharpens his quills with military precision, and sets out his cauldron with thin, careful hands.
When Percy became a Prefect in his fifth year, his confidence grew tremendously. The day he was told of the news, he went about telling it to everyone. He would go up to a group and tell them in such a proud way that he is going to be a Prefect. He would then banter on about how the school is going to improve now that he is an official Prefect, the leader among us all. Many just smiled politely, and shook his outstretched hand. And finally Percy came up to Oliver's group, with a grin still plastered on his face from talking to the previous group. But his grin melted off his face when the jocks around Oliver grimaced at Percy. "Hey, Weasley," Andrew Kirke spat the word out with contempt. The Proudly Proper Percy was gone for that minute, replaced by Pathetically Pitiful Percy, stuttering upon the frowns and grunts by Oliver's gang. Oliver wanted to ask the rest to just shut the fuck up, and let the poor boy talk, but he didn't. Why would he, for no reason, stand up for this boy? But he wanted to shake his hand, wanted to sincerely congratulate this boy he had been watching for so long on finally getting recognition for being so proper. But when Oliver extended his right hand, Percy jumped away in fright, and raucous laughter erupted from the boys. Oliver watched as Percy's face burned as red as his hair, before straightening up and strutted off to the dormitories. Oliver lets his hand sinks down, while the rest of the boys continue laughing, patting his back and screaming "Good work, Oliver!"
Ever since then, whenever Percy catches Oliver's eyes, it seems different. It's not hatred; Oliver can tell Percy doesn't hate him because of that incident. But more of that Percy hates himself, wishing he wasn't the way he was, wishing he were more like them, and less like himself. So that then there would be no reason for the boys Oliver hangs out with to tease Percy. But Oliver felt that there are enough boys like them in the school. Percy's perfect just being the way he is.
But thinking of telling that to Percy in the hopes of building his self-esteem is just plain suicidal, Oliver thought to himself when Percy walked past him in one of Hogwart's corridors. "Plain daft," Oliver muttered. "I'll be fucking mental to do that."
It was the sixth year, and it was Christmas and yet Oliver and Percy still had never exchanged a single word with each other. This Christmas, Oliver decided to stay in Hogwarts, since his parents are busy working at the Ministry, so going home would be pointless anyway. Every day he would spend his time watching the house elves decorate Hogwarts, or stay in the library for hours reading Great Quidditch Legends and their Stories, or ride his broom within the castle when no teachers are watching, since he could not play Quidditch with such unpredictable snowing. He was bored, but staying in Hogwarts for Christmas meant knowing earlier than most who is going to be Head Boy next year, perhaps even earlier than the would-be-Head Boy himself. There was a slight buzz as news spread among those who had not gone home for Christmas, and Oliver stayed around the crowd long enough to catch who is going to be Head Boy.
"Ahh, it's going to be Percy!" Two Gryffindor girls that looked to be a year or two younger than Oliver himself chattered excitedly at the table in the Great Hall during breakfast. "I heard it from Professor McGonagall herself!" One of the girls squeaked. "She was telling it to Professor Flitwick before chasing me off! I swear!" The two girls then burst out laughing for no apparent reason, and began talking about which is the most effective magical hair product available at Knockturn Alley. But Oliver had already made his way to the common room, having only had a bite, maybe two. Percy must be happy once he heard the news, Oliver thought. This must be something he'd always wanted.
"Password?" The Fat Lady in the portrait was accompanied by one of the Vikings from the painting downstairs, who had come to initiate a game of wizard's chess with the lady. The chessboard sits between the two, and the Viking was absently rubbing his brow as he planned out his next move in his head. "Bogwash." The Fat Lady nodded and the painting swung open, only to the dismay of the Viking, as the chess pieces began to fall off the board because of this. "Hey, m'lady, look what yer done!" The Viking exclaimed, flaying his arms about. "Excuse me!" The Fat Lady retorted angrily. "Do not talk to me in that awful tone!" Oliver slipped in to the common room as the two paintings quarreled to the sounds of thrown glasses and the smashing of a particular wooden board. Oliver slipped in to the nearest couch he could get to, and let out an inaudible sigh as he enjoys the warmth of the roaring fire at the fireplace.
After the seventh year is over, a small voice in Oliver's head made an exclamation, you won't be able to watch Percy anymore, would you? Oliver merely shook his head, like he was trying to shake that voice out of his head, but he knew it was true. He never knew what's he going to be after Hogwarts. A Quidditch player? That wouldn't be that much of a surprise, coming from Oliver Wood. And what about Pleasantly Perfect Percy? A Ministry worker, maybe? Definitely not a Quidditch player. No, Quidditch player would be the last job on Percy's mind.
Oliver remembered the time when he witnessed Percy's Quidditch playing skills a couple of years ago. It was the start of spring and the both of them, together with a couple of students from the same class, attended the annual team trials. Naturally, Oliver aced the trial, and earned a place on the Gryffindor team. The older players all patted his back and welcomed him, smiling and praising how he avoided that tricky Bludger, or how he swiftly sent the Quaffle in hand through the hoop despite being defended by the team's best Chaser. Then it was Percy's turn, and for the first time Oliver watches Percy does something which he wasn't immediately good at. Percy was not a bad broom rider, but he was not brilliant either. Not one Quaffle made it into the hoop, and Percy even got hit hard in the left shoulder by a Bludger. When Percy came down from the air, his left arm was already limp; his glasses were knocked crooked by the same Bludger. He left the broom and let the next student take over, clearly knowing he would not make it to the team with that kind of performance. The team was quiet as he walked away. When he walked past Oliver, Percy looked at him for a while, but never stopped walking. Oliver walked away, to the puzzlement of his new teammates, to accompany Percy to the Hospital Wing. Percy simply walked, head bowed down low, his right arm nursing his dislocated left. Oliver just walked behind him, quietly, till they reached the Wing. Percy turned, before going in, to face Oliver for a moment. But still, not a word, and Percy went in to see Madam Pomfrey.
You and Percy are such different characters! Why would the
two of you ever be together under something other than Hogwarts?
No more watching! Aren't you a sad little boy, Obliviously
Ordinary Oliver?
---
It's only been a week after the students come flooding into Hogwarts again, with the commencement of the new school year. The Christmas decorations have all been shelved away, and the castle restored to its normal self. Most of the snow outside the castle has melted away, leaving room for spring to work its own magic. The Quidditch pitch is again ready for games and practices.
But Oliver Wood, for once, was not in the mood for Quidditch.
"Not practicing like mad for Quidditch this time?" Marcus Flint sauntered towards Oliver as who stares out the window at the Quidditch pitch. Marcus sneered and laughed stupidly. "But I guess you'd given up eh? Think that we're finally better than you lot right?" "Sod off," Oliver pushed Marcus aside and walked off, leaving Marcus rambling on his own.
Oliver walked aimlessly on castle grounds, before physically bumping into Professor Dumbledore. "Professor!" Oliver exclaimed, and straightened himself up. Dumbledore had lost his balance and fell to the ground. But instead of getting up, he sat himself cross-legged on the stone floor, looking up to Oliver. "Come on, boy, sit sit," Dumbledore motioned him to sit as well, and Oliver can only join him in puzzlement. At least no one's walking past, Oliver thought. "Don't worry, Wood," Dumbledore said, which made Oliver jumped. "Ridicule is only shameful if you think that what they are thinking about is true. And I don't think it is any bit embarrassing to sit anywhere in the castle, do you?" Oliver could only nod to the many quirks the Headmaster indulges in Hogwarts. "Well," Dumbledore took off his half-moon glasses and wipes the glass with his cloak. "I am certain the news of who is Head Boy this year has been made known to you?" Oliver looked up. "Uh yes, professor. Percy Weasley, am I right?" "Yes, yes," Dumbledore smiled as he wore his glasses, letting it sit on his slightly crooked nose. "It seems to be an obvious choice among the teachers, except perhaps Professor Snape, who personally prefers someone from his House to be Head Boy. But of course, no one else agrees with him." Dumbledore's wrinkled hand went into a pocket and took out a toffee, which he unwrapped and tossed into his open mouth.
"Wuuuu goowike coo go coo ger gaayycoy plentasion?" Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What, Professor?" It was the toffee, so Dumbledore chewed rapidly and swallow, only to cause a coughing fit. Oliver patted the old man's back, and the coughing gradually ceased. "What did you say, Professor?" "Thank you, Oliver. Oh yes, what I was saying, before the obstruction of that wonderful piece of toffee, is that would you like to go to the Head Boy presentation?" Oliver's eyes widened. "It won't just be the Head Boy of course, but also the chosen Head Girl, and the new Prefects. Just a ceremony, to officially acknowledge their titles. It would be at the Great Hall, and would be a tremendous bore. So would you like to attend, Mr. Wood?" Oliver kept quiet. "Perhaps to see your friend Percy Weasley? You share some classes with him, am I right?" There was a pause. "Alright, Professor, I'll attend the presentation." Dumbledore had already gotten to his feet, while a second year girl from Hufflepuff walked pass, giggling as she saw Oliver sitting by himself on the floor. Oliver turned slightly red, and got to his feet as well. "Well," Dumbledore dusted his cloak and took out another toffee from his pocket. "I do hope that you would hold true to your word, Mr. Oliver?" Oliver nodded. Dumbledore turned and walked towards his office, but not before saying something. "I believe your friend Percy would be very pleased you are attending!" "Wh... What, Professor?" Oliver exclaimed. But all Dumbledore did was turn and winked playfully, and soon he was already gone.
---
And so Oliver Wood finds himself in the Great Hall the next day, seated amongst those few students who got roped in to attend the presentation as well. And what Professor Dumbledore said was true; he's bored out of his brains. "Hey," The boy beside him, Victor Peverell, nudged Oliver in the rib with his elbow. "Which professor roped you in?" It took a while for Oliver to register, jerking slighting from being half-asleep in his chair. "Dumbledore," he replied. "Ooh, bad luck! But I got it no better; McGonagall made me come. My friend got asked to come too, by Flitwick, but she kept on whining to him that she got excused! How ridiculous is that!" "Mr. Wood and Mr. Peverell," Out of nowhere Professor McGonagall towered over the two boys. "I do hope the two of you would show some respect for the new Prefects, Head Boy and Head Girl by giving your full attention to today's presentation. Especially you, Mr. Wood. I expect much better from you." She then turned on her heels and walked off. Victor merely rolled his eyes and sank into his seat, while Oliver looked about for Percy's face. But he was nowhere in sight.
"May I have your attention?" The Headmaster's voice rang clear across the Great Hall. Everyone settled down. He clears his throat. "Today we've gathered here to celebrate the appointment of various remarkable individuals as our Prefects, in hopes that they would be able to inspire many others in Hogwarts towards greatness." "Bullshit," Victor coughed out, mockingly. McGonagall eyed him from afar, which made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Not only that, we would also be officially announcing our new Head Boy and Head Girl. Both of them have been brilliant students, and had carried out their duties as Prefects well, hence their well-deserved appointment as Head Boy and Girl. Our new Head Boy and Girl would be Percy Weasley, and Penelope Clearwater!" Applause came from the audience and the teachers as the two of them made their way to the front and took a bow. Penelope smiled sweetly, while Percy grinned, gripping tightly as he shakes Dumbledore's hand. Oliver focused on Percy, saw how he had put the extra effort to make his cloak look as good as hand-me-downs could, and not a hair was out of place. Percy caught Oliver looking at him, but looked away, no longer grinning as hard.
"Cocky bastard, isn't he?" Victor said. "Think he's all that big now that he's Head Boy. Bet he'll be even bossier than before." Oliver turned to face him, wanting to say something back, but nothing came out. "What?" "Nothing." Oliver turned to face the front once more, but Percy and Penelope had both seated down somewhere in the front, making them well out of sight. Oliver tried straightening up and looking over, but he gave up after a while. "Whatcha looking at?" Victor questioned. "You're a noisy little bugger, aren't you?" Oliver retorted. The boy stared at him for a few moments, before turning to the girl beside him and proceeded to talk to her.
"Now for the list of new Prefects Hogwarts has appointed for the new year." Dumbledore took out a roll of parchment, which rolled out onto the floor and a bit more. "Firstly, Truman Pince, Neil Tripe, Rolanda May, Amycus Carrow..." At this point Oliver has already tuned himself out, planning in his mind what he's going to do after this is over.
---
Dumbledore finally reached the end of his list. "... and Walter Parkin. Let's give all these wonderful students a round of applause." The Great Hall did not response. "I said," Dumbledore raised his voice several decibels higher. "Let's give all these well-deserved Prefects a round of applause." Many heads jerked up, having fallen asleep an hour ago. Even Professor Sprout was dozing, scared awake by Dumbledore's booming voice. Gradually, the applause came, and went. The students, as well as the Prefects themselves, were dismissed. Percy and Penelope were seen standing up from his seat, engaged in a conversation among themselves. Then Penelope waved goodbye, and went back to the girls' dorms. By then many of the students and staff had already left, Oliver realized, and that he was the only one still seated. He got up, and saw Percy looking in his direction. Oliver casually walked towards Percy, and stopped right in front of him. None of them spoke at first. Finally, Oliver said what he'd planned to say.
"Congratulations, on being Head Boy," And with that, Oliver extended his right hand, this time slowly. Percy was looking down at the hand he had extended, as though remembering the time when he approached Oliver and gang when he had became a Prefect. Oliver almost thought he wasn't going to shake it, until Percy extended his as well, and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you." Percy smiled, pushing up his glasses with a finger. "Who made you come here?" He questioned. Oliver looked straight into his blue eyes, and answered, "Well, I would say I made it here on my accord." Percy raised an eyebrow, confused. "Nobody attends the Head Boy presentation on their own accord. Why would you do that?" He then laughed, but Oliver merely smiled. He drew himself close to Percy and whispered into his ear. "Well," Oliver felt like he was overcome by this unknown feeling. "I fancy you."
Percy drew himself away and pushed Oliver away, only losing balance against a nearby chair and fell crashing onto the floor. Oliver slipped as well, and with that push, fell arse first onto the ground opposite Percy. Oliver watched Percy as his face burned redder than he had ever seen since the first year.
And this time, it was his turn to laugh.