Title: Just a Spin Around the Quidditch Pitch

Authors: wordweaver and Merelyn25

Pairing: Percy/Oliver (sort of- it's really more of a gen fic)

Rating: PG (just to be safe)

Summary: Oliver gets Percy to take a study break…with interesting consequences. (mild mild mild mild slash, pre-slash? I don't know what to call it. Anyway, it has a vaguely slashy vibe- if you want to interpret it as such). Thanks to Elske (Cariad) for Beta.

Thursday evening found Percy Weasley in the corner couch of the common room- studying, as usual. He was copying over his Transfiguration notes in preparation for a major exam the next morning. While Percy was absorbed in the intricacies of basic human transfiguration ground rules, his companion was not so enthralled. In fact, Oliver Wood was down right bored out of his mind. He was sprawled next to Percy on the couch, his feet idly tapping in frustration. Suddenly Oliver looked over at Percy and sighed dramatically.

"Aren't you done yet, Percy? I'm sure you've been over those stupid notes twenty times already,"

"Only five," Percy corrected. He didn't look up from the papers in front of him.

"Whatever the number, isn't it time for a break? I'm going out of my mind here."

"I'm not quite through yet."

"It's not as though you're going to fail, Percy. And besides, if I don't get out and get some fresh air, my brains are going to start pouring out my ears."

"I really need to finish this, Oliver," Percy replied, still bent over his notes.

"Why don't we go for a spin around the Quidditch pitch? It'll be fun."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"Come o-"

"Oliver!" Percy interrupted sternly. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Oliver replied with a smile. "Now, I'll just poke you until you agree."

*poke*

"Quit it."

*poke*

"Quit it."

*poke*

"Quit it!" Percy said, finally looking up from his Transfiguration notes. "Why are you so immature?" he asked, smiling gently at his companion.

"Because you wouldn't want me any other way," Oliver replied with a grin, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Seriously, though, it would be fun to go flying."

"I hate brooms. Besides, I have tons of homework to finish tonight." Percy went back to his notes, scribbling madly. "Can't we do this some other time?" Percy really needed to finish his homework, and the only way that would happen was if Oliver left him alone. That boy was too great a distraction, even when he wasn't poking him. Percy sifted through his papers, a slight frown on his face. Now where had he copied down that procedure?

"How about Sunday? We could go after dinner."

Percy was barely listening.

"Sure," He agreed absent-mindedly, "Sounds fine." Ah, there it was. He was sure McGonagall would have that part on the test.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. Obviously Percy hadn't heard him; there was no way he would ever agree to go flying in his right mind. Oliver smiled, a tad wickedly. "You promise?"

"Of course." Percy was clearly not paying attention now.

"Great! I can't wait!" Oliver stood up. "Well, I'm going upstairs. See you tomorrow." He hurried out of the common room, a smirk playing around his mouth.

"Night," Percy muttered. Suddenly he jerked up from his notes, staring in horror at Oliver's retreating back.

Bloody hell. What had he just agreed to?

*~*~*~*

"Come on, Perce. " Oliver Wood looked up at the red-haired boy with mournful eyes. "You promised."

Percy Weasley sniffed and looked away, his arms still crossed firmly across his chest. "I can't remember what I was thinking when I agreed to this, and the answer remains no. I am not interested in killing myself today. Maybe some other time."

Damn it, now Oliver had switched tactics. Instead of poking him into submission, Oliver was now looking at him with enormous puppy-dog eyes; large, amazingly dark brown eyes that were now misting in feigned sorrow. Why, a person could just…drown in them.

Forcefully, Percy turned his thoughts away from the chocolate eyes that were looking at him imploringly and tried to make his stance a little bit stiffer. He was not going to cave this time. He wasn't!

"I know what you were thinking" Damn, the voice was becoming dangerous now. Oliver had something up his sleeve. "You were thinking that you wanted me to leave you alone. But you promised, Percy." Oliver was now smirking slightly.

Oliver had him. Oliver always did have the upper hand when it came to battles of will. He knew him too well to think he would break a promise, even if it was given half-consciously. Percy felt his resolve die.

"I haven't flown since first year, Oliver."

"That's all right. We'll start with basics."

"But I don't even have my own broomstick," he protested weakly.

"It's okay," Oliver replied with a smile. "You can borrow my old Cleansweep 3."

"Sure I could, but-"

"No excuses, Perce. You aren't getting out of this." Oliver's smile had turned into a smug grin.

Percy stared at him for a moment, trying to think of some way to escape what was bound to be a complete waste of time. If that weren't bad enough, this waste of time would probably include Percy making an ass of himself and braking bones.

Oliver smiled at him hopefully. Percy sighed, slumping back in his chair. He was going to cave.

"Fine," Percy conceded. "I'll go. But only for 45 minutes. I really do need to study."

"Great! Let me get the brooms. I still have my old one somewhere in the bottom of my trunk." Oliver dragged a grumbling Percy upstairs to his dorm and crossed to the trunk. He bent over it and began rifling through his things, tossing out Quidditch magazines, random articles of clothing, and an assortment of other junk onto the floor of the dorm room. Percy opened his mouth to say something about the mess, then closed it, shaking his head.         

Finally Oliver popped up, brandishing a broom. Well maybe it had once been a broom. Percy wasn't quite sure what it qualified as now.

"Here it is. This was my very first real broom. Dad got it for me the summer after first year. I know she's a bit old, but she's got excellent handling," Oliver told Percy, patting the Cleansweep lovingly.

A 'bit old' was perhaps an understatement. Oliver's old broom looked, well, decrepit. The brush at the end was falling out, and the straw that remained was bent at odd angles, giving the Cleansweep 3 the impression of a hideously deformed dead topiary.

"Oliver, you can't…that…it's..." Percy sputtered, a look of horror on his face.

"What? I know she's not exactly in top condition,"

 Percy snorted at this.

"But I assure you she flies like a dream."

"Flies?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Hey, lay off her. For a beginner like you, she'll be perfect."

"But…"

"Come on Perce, you promised you'd come," Oliver wheedled, turning on the puppy eyes again.

Percy stared back at him weakly. "I am not getting on that…that defective stick!" he protested, turning away and crossing his arms again.

"Fine. You don't have to. You can always ride one of the school brooms, you know." Oliver said nonchalantly.

Percy shuddered. His first (and last) experience on a school broom had been something of an unqualified disaster, a scarring debacle that ended with Percy vowing he would never mount one again. And Oliver knew it, damn him. Percy turned and looked at the dilapidated Cleansweep, then up to Oliver's warm brown eyes. Dammit. Bloody Oliver and his bloody gorgeous puppy eyes.

Percy stuck out his hand stiffly.

"Give me the stupid broom," he said petulantly. "Let's get this over with."

Oliver grinned smugly and, taking Percy's hand, led him out to the Quidditch pitch.

"Now just put one leg over the broom and position it so that you…."

"I know how to mount a broom, Oliver," muttered Percy tensely. "Can we just do this so I can get on with my homework?"

"All right, all right. I just thought you'd like some quick ground review before we took off. But if that's how you're going to be…" Oliver pushed off the ground and soared into the air. Laughing, he spun around in midair and dove at Percy, missing him by only a couple of inches before heading upwards again.

"Come on Head Boy!" called Oliver. "It's fun!"

Grumbling to himself, Percy adjusted his seat on the broom and rearranged his hands a few times until he felt he had a good grip on the handle. "Position, check. Grip, check. Firm footing, check. Uh…."

"Stay down there any longer and I'll get you myself!" Oliver called from above.

With a sigh, Percy resigned himself to the inevitability of severe injury or death and kicked firmly off the ground. The broom rose shakily into the air. Percy clutched the handle so hard his knuckles turned white and arched his back to try and keep his balance. 

He felt himself sliding slightly to the right, so he moved a bit. Now he was sliding to the left. He tilted himself until he felt as though he were vaguely upright. The broom continued to putter along a few inches from the ground.

Suddenly Percy felt a gust of air as Oliver rushed past him, a blur on his Nimbus 2000. Percy froze, every muscle stiff, his eyes squeezed shut as he waited for the force of Oliver's passing to knock the broom over. After a moment, Percy realized that he was still upright. He grinned to himself as he started moving along again.

"Come higher," called Oliver, who was now circling Percy from much farther up in the air.

"All right, I'm coming."

Gritting his teeth, Percy pointed the stick of his broom vaguely upward and slowly began to climb through the air, where Oliver was waiting impatiently. Just as he was about to reach him, Oliver took off towards the far end of  the pitch. Grumbling, Percy began to follow him.

"Having fun?" called Oliver.

Percy thought about it for a moment, and was rather surprised to find that he was. "Yeah, actually this isn't as bad as I thought."

No sooner had the thought been said aloud than the broom suddenly gave a sharp jolt and stopped in midair. "Uh, Oliver…I think there's something wrong with the…." Percy was cut off as the broom suddenly shot straight up in the air, Percy clinging for dear life to the end.

"OLLLLLLIIIIIIVVVVVEEEERRRR!" The broom reached its peak and hovered in the air for a moment before beginning a roller coaster dive straight downward. "YAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The broom came to a sudden halt, almost throwing Percy over the front of it. Fortunately, Percy had not released his death grip from earlier. For a moment he just sat there, breathing hard and shaking, waiting for his heart to resume its normal rate.

"Oliver?" Percy's voice was no more than a slight gasp. "I think that maybe your broom is in need of servicing."

There was no response. Percy looked up to see his friend doubled over in silent laughter. Percy scowled at him. "I really don't think this is very funny, Oliver," he muttered angrily.

"The look on your…the way you…'YAAAAAH!'" Oliver imitated, hardly able to get the words out, he was laughing so hard. Percy sat up and raised an eyebrow waiting for his friend to stop snickering. Finally, Oliver wiped a tear out his eye and his chuckled faded off. "Oh come on, Perce. You'd be laughing too if you had seen yourself."

"Humph." Percy straightened his robes indignantly and started flying closer to his friend. "From now on I think I'm going to stick to…."

At that moment the broom decided it had enough with sitting still and shot swiftly  towards Oliver. That in and of itself wouldn't have been too bad, except that the broom also decided to start spiraling around and around, taking Percy with it. Halfway to where Oliver had resumed his hysterics it came to an abrupt halt, leaving Percy clinging upside down to the Cleansweep by his hands and feet.

"A little help here, if you please!" he hissed in a strangled voice, trying to get his sweaty hands to grip the handle more firmly.

Oliver just chuckled. "Old Delilah has a bit of spirit in her, that's all."

"You named your broom!?" Percy somehow managed to be incredulous from his current position.

"Just my first one," said Oliver defensively.

Percy suddenly felt his glasses slipping down his forehead. "No! Nononononono, not the glasses." Desperately Percy tried to straighten them without letting go of the broom. "OLIVER! Get over here and- WOAH!"

The broom handle abruptly snapped in half and fell away, leaving Percy dangling by his feet. All the blood rushed to his head and his glasses slid off until they were clinging to one red ear.

"Can't…hold…on."

After a few moments of free fall, Percy realized that the mere fact that he could still think coherently meant that when he finally did hit the ground it was going to hurt. A lot.

THUD.

It did.

Percy landed face first on the ground. The wind was knocked out of him. He didn't move for a while, trying to regain his breath.

"Percy? Percy??" Oliver's face, so recently twisted in laughter, was now pale. He rocketed anxiously toward Percy's sprawled form and hurriedly dismounted. "Are you okay?"

"Oh…Peachy. I do so enjoy falling off brooms. In fact, I plan to do it more often." Percy's acerbic reply was somewhat muffled by the grass of the Quidditch pitch currently poking up his nose.

Oliver sighed in relief. If Percy was well enough to make sarcastic remarks he was going to be fine. Yet he still hadn't moved from his position, nose to the dirt.

"I should get you to Madame Pomfrey."

"Oliver?" Percy's voice was somehow lilting and threatening at the same time.

"Yeah Perce?"

"Could you come here for a second?" he asked in an overly casual voice.

"Sure," Oliver replied tentatively. He squatted down by Percy, a slight frown on his face. "What is it?"

Suddenly Percy's hand shot up from the ground to wrap itself around the collar of Oliver's robes. With a jerk, Percy yanked Oliver down towards his face, still buried in the grass.

"Right now," he whispered slowly, in deathly menacing tones, "I am unable to get up from the ground. However, I assure you, the moment I regain the control of the rest of my limbs, I will to put them to good use in ending your life."

THE END