A/N: This is yet another new fic that I shouldn't be writing because I have so many on the go, but it's sitting in my files begging to be posted, so… I give you quality Percy/Oliver drivel. Please enjoy responsibly.

I don't own Harry Potter or anything to do with the books. Blah blah frickin' blah. The song P.S., I Love You was written by the Beatles, and it's adorable but really has very little relevance to the overall plot of this story. I just lifted the title. So thanks to the boys, not that they care…

No action as of yet… I do so love my preamble. Oh yes, one thing you should know is that I hate OotP Percy, and this was written mostly pre-OotP anyway, so don't go ragging on the fact that it's out of character… I already know that. I'm choosing to ignore it.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Let me know if it's worth continuing. Love and all things pleasant, -Nymphean

P.S., I Love You

Percy sighed and leaned against the street lamp as he finished taping the last bulletin to it. He shook his head. I hate this I hate this I hate this… His eyes were drawn to the side as he heard a ripping sound and looked up just in time to see his advertisement fly away. Goddamnit…
Percy wasn't too happy about having to find a roommate in the first place, and his last flyer floating away on the breeze was just one more thing for him to be miserable about. It was probably the cheap tape he was using… Merlin knew how many of his other bulletins were float towards Muggle London this very second. If only he made a little more money, he'd never even have to be in this situation. Such was life when you were at the bottom of the ministry hierarchy. He should have just stayed at the Burrow.

As soon as Percy thought it, he mentally took it back. As bad as it would be living with a total stranger, he couldn't imagine anything worse than living in that smothering little hellhole he'd had the pleasure of calling home for nineteen years. When he'd moved out just over four months ago, it was with dry eyes and a half-smile on his freckled face. Percy hadn't anticipated the financial difficulties to come so soon. But he had plenty of room in the apartment, and although he' probably go crazy living with someone else in his way, he was more than used to it, and it was the only solution, short of moving home, that he could think of.

Still, he was not looking forward to getting used to another person. Percy was a loner, and he liked it that way. This roommate business threatened his status as such, and Percy was not really sure he found it agreeable in the slightest.

*****

Oliver Wood was walking down an almost abandoned Diagon Ally, trying to make it to the Three Broomsticks before he collapsed. He was exhausted, and just wanted to fall into bed and sleep forever, not to think about the Quidditch practice he had at the crack of dawn the next day. Every muscle in his body ached, a combination of getting knocked from his broom at least a dozen times throughout the course of the day and having slept on the thin, hard mattresses at the three Broomsticks for too many nights. Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets and buried his face in his high collar as a huge gust of wind hit him straight on.

It's a wonderful life, is it?

Oliver stood outside the Three Broomsticks now, hating that he had to go in and face the same old dingy, generic room as he did every night. As second-string keeper for the Chudley Cannons, most people just assumed Oliver used the Inn as a sort of home away from home. What nobody realized was that he didn't have a home to be away from.

Oliver was just about to walk through the doors when another gust of wind came along, blowing sand and gravel at Oliver. He closed his eyes and was just about to shield his face with his hands when something whipped against his head and stuck there. A piece of paper. As the wind died down, Oliver grabbed the paper and held it in front of him, reading it aloud.

"Roommate needed… Male, Non-smoker…" Oliver's eyes skimmed own the rest of the page. There was a row of Muggle phone numbers at the bottom, none of which had been ripped off. Oliver looked up, examining the Three Broomsticks, and then looked back down at the ad.

He'd call tomorrow.

*****

Percy awoke with a start as the phone rang. Dazed and drowsy, he looked over at the clock, which now read "Late for Work".

"Fuck!"

The phone rang again, and Percy wondered for the millionth time why he'd opted to get one of the terrible muggle devices installed in his house. He answered in the middle of the third ring

"Hello?" He said, his voice slightly raspy from sleep. There was a pause on the other end.

"Um, I'm calling about your ad…"

"Oh." Percy felt slightly disappointed. He'd almost been hoping to avoid the whole roommate issue. "I take it you're interested."

"I might be."

Percy furrowed his brow and reached across the bed to the drawer of his nightstand, taking out a small appointment book. "If you'd like to stop by and take a look at the place, you can drop in around six this evening. Alright?"

"Six it is. I'll see you then."

Percy hung up the phone, only realizing seconds after he'd done so that he hadn't gotten the other man's name, profession, or, for that matter, any background information whatsoever. For all he knew, he'd just invited an ax-murderer into his home.

"Oh well," Percy muttered to himself. "Should make things interesting, anyhow."

Hours later, after going to work late, coming back home and hastily tidying up the mostly spotless apartment, Percy sat on his couch, awaiting the arrival of his prospective roommate. He really hoped that the other man turned out to be at least somewhat similar to him, and if not, He prayed that he was at least quiet. At five minutes after six, there was a knock on the door. Percy got up to answer it, feeling as though he was on some sort of death march.

Percy opened the door and began to greet the person on the other side, his mouth freezing mid-hello. The man in the hallway simply stared back at him, eyes full of surprise.

Oliver spoke first. "Percy? Percy Weasley?" He immediately felt stupid. Of course it was Percy Weasley… after all, neither of them had changed too much in the two and a half years since graduation. He managed a smile at the redheaded boy. They'd never really been all that close, and Oliver had always felt as if Percy looked down on him because of his popular jock status.

"Oliver Wood." It was not a question, merely an acknowledgement. Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to another, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Percy raised an eyebrow. "So…. You're here about the apartment?"

Oliver blinked a couple times. He'd been so distracted at seeing his former classmate again that he'd almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. "Yeah, I guess that's why I'm here." Percy seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then stepped aside, motioning for Oliver to come in.

"I'll give you the tour," Percy said, closing the door behind Oliver. They stepped into a plain but tastefully decorated room. "This is the living room, and that over there is the dining room." Percy began to walk, and Oliver followed. "Kitchen. Down this hall are the bedrooms. That one over there is mine, and you'd have this one. It has an ensuite bathroom, and there's lots of closet room. The building gives us full laundry, gym and pool privileges."

Oliver nodded appreciatively. It was, admittedly, a very nice little apartment. The old building had character and charm, and it was in a nice part of town. But Oliver didn't know how enthusiastic he was about sharing a place with Percy Weasley. Sure, they'd sort of lived together for seven years, but although they'd shared a dormitory, they'd hardly ever seen each other. And Oliver still got the feeling that Percy really disliked him.

Oliver looked around. They were in the living room again, and he was starting to like the apartment more and more the longer he stayed there. He looked up at Percy, deciding to be very forward and upfront with the other man.

"Look, Percy, I really like your place, but if it's going to make you uncomfortable to live with me, then I can find some place else."

Percy looked back at Oliver, seeming slightly at odds with the idea of the two of them living under the same roof. Finally, after careful deliberation, Percy spoke. "Are you quiet?"

"What?"

"I don't like a lot of noise. If you live here, you have to keep he racket to a bare minimum." Oliver almost laughed.

"Yeah, I can do that."

Percy nodded, frowning. "I'm assuming you have a steady job? I need to know you're reliable, with the rent and all."

Oliver nodded quickly. "I'm second-string for the Cannons. It doesn't pay much, but it's enough, and it's steady."

Percy bit his lower lip. "Okay. I guess that's it then." He walked into the kitchen and looked at the calendar on the side of the fridge. "You can move in any time after Thursday."

And so began a new chapter in the story of Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood's lives.

*****

Percy threw on a light jacket, gathered up his briefcase and his umbrella (just in case), and headed into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee for the walk to work. It was seven am on a bright Friday morning in April, and for once Percy was feeling slightly optimistic. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and it was one of those fine, fresh spring mornings that make it impossible not to smile. Percy poured some milk into his coffee and took out a piece of paper and a pen to write a note to Oliver, who had left sometime before dawn to go to practice.

Oliver,

Nadya Pearlmutter called (841-9674). Says to call back after four. Meeting tonight until 8:00. Lasagna in the fridge, don't eat it all. If you go out before I get home, turn off the lights this time.

-Percy.

P.S., We need milk.

Percy stuck the letter to the fridge with a magnet. He and Oliver had been living together for five months now, and so far it was working out nicely. They barely ever saw each other except sometimes on weekends, but in those few times when they were together in the apartment they'd managed to secure a steady sort of comradery. It was not exactly a friendship, but it was close enough. Oliver was actually quite a likeable person once you got past the irritatingly good looks, the popularity and the shallow jock façade, Percy had decided after the first month or so. Not everyone is what they appear to be.

*****

Oliver got home at about five in the evening, after practicing for hours and then going out for a beer with some of the guys and girls from the team. It was strange for Oliver to be playing second-string. Her rarely ever got to play in actual games, but he was worked just as hard in practices, and maybe even harder because he still had something to prove. Oliver had never been second best at anything in his life. At Hogwarts, he'd been the top, a big fish in a little pond. But now he was just a tiny fish in the huge sea that was professional Quidditch, and he had discovered that he hated it with a passion. Oliver was not good at being passed over. He had a tendency to dwell on it, too; it occupied his mind most hours of the day. He'd even talked to Percy about it once or twice. Percy, he'd discovered, knew how it felt to be passed over. He was practically bottom of the barrel in the ministry, and Oliver knew how useless it made him feel. They actually had much more in common than either of them had previously thought.

After getting ready to go out for the night with some friends from the team, Oliver made his way to the kitchen to get some food and discovered Percy's letter. He chuckled to himself, knowing full well that Percy hated lasagna anyway and probably wouldn't even notice if Oliver finished it, and that his roommate would undoubtedly pick up milk on the way home. He heated up the lasagna, ate it quickly, and scribbled his own note to attach to the fridge.

Percy,

Good lasagna. Too bad you missed it. Going out tonight, shouldn't be home at any hour you'd consider appropriate. Hope your meeting went well. Practice sucked.

-Oliver

P.S., There's Coffee White in the cupboard.

*****

Oliver stepped through the door earlier than usual at about two am to find that all the lights were still on and Percy was sitting on the couch drinking tea and staring blankly at the wall. Oliver immediately knew that something was wrong. It was not like Percy to be up past ten when he had work the next morning. The redheaded man seemed focused intently on the wall in front of him, and his fingers grasped the teacup so hard that his knuckles were white.

"Percy? What's up?" Percy seemed to snap out of his trance-like state, looking suddenly at Oliver.

"Oh. Nothing. Just thinking."

"At two in the morning?" Percy managed a weak smile.

"If you can party until three than I can certainly think until two."

Oliver frowned. "Don't you have work tomorrow?" Percy grimaced, and Oliver made the connection. "Is this something to do with work?"

Percy took a sip of his tea before replying. "Yes. But I don't want to talk about it." Oliver raised an eyebrow at his roommate.

"Fine." He paused for a moment before saying, "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Maybe I don't want to talk about anything." Oliver rolled his eyes. Getting Percy to talk was always difficult.

"Come on, Percy, I'm your friend. If you're upset about something, you should be able to talk to me." Percy's eyes shot up to meet Oliver's.

"You're…" He stopped, looking back down at his teacup.

"I'm what?" Oliver asked, confused. Percy shook his head. "Percy?" He persisted, "I'm what?"

"It's nothing, really, just…" Percy laughed self-consciously, still looking into his teacup. "Well, it's just that no-one's ever said that I was their friend before."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "Come on, Percy, that's ridiculous." Percy frowned, his eyes still lowered. Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Well, it IS ridiculous… everybody has friends, Perce."

"Not me."

Oliver drew in a deep breath. After living with Percy for five months, Oliver had almost gotten used to the other man's deep-seated inadequacy complex, but it still bothered him to no end. "Percy, don't be daft. You're selling yourself short." Percy gave a short, sarcastic laugh but didn't reply. "Come on, Percy… don't be so negative."

"We can't all be you," Percy replied bitingly, and Oliver's eyes widened.

"What?"

Percy turned to look Oliver straight in the eye. "Not everything is sunshine and roses, Oliver. I know it may seem like that to you, but it's really not. I'm sure it's easy for you to think that… after all, you do something you love for a living, you have millions of friends hanging on your every move, you go out and party every night and laugh and drink and have fun. The world must look pretty perfect from where you're standing. And then there's me. I work all day, everyday at a job I can't stand. I work so hard, all the time, and for what? To be called in for a meeting and told that the promotion I've had in the bag for months now was given to someone else. Sorry, Weatherby, maybe next time." Percy narrowed his eyes. "The view's not so great from here, is it?"

Oliver felt a dull ache in his chest on Percy's behalf. He understood suddenly what had been bothering Percy. Oliver knew exactly what it was like to feel like something was yours for certain and then have in taken away from you before you even really had it in the first place.

"Believe it or not, Percy, I do know what you're going through."

"Oh please."

"No," Oliver leaned in towards his roommate so that the other man couldn't ignore him. "Listen, I know how you feel. You think I like being second best? I've never been second at anything before in my life, Percy, and it's embarrassing to see my name down on the second string list. Quidditch has always been my thing, and now it's not mine anymore. And yeah, it's a blow to my ego, alright? But at least it hasn't driven me to insulting people yet." He gave Percy a meaningful look. The redhead's dour expression turned slightly sheepish, and he made a distasteful face.

"Blimey… I'm sorry, Ol. I guess I'm overreacting a bit."

Oliver shrugged, good-natured as always. "It's alright to be disappointed, and even angry. If you need to rant, feel free to come to me. Just try not to rip me to shreds in the process." Percy winced.

"I really am sorry for insulting you."

"Perce, compared to some of the things people have said to me, that was practically a compliment. Don't worry about it." Oliver was aware that he was still leaning rather close to Percy, and he was beginning to think that Percy had noticed too. For a moment they looked at each other, and then Percy cast his gaze to the side.

"It's getting late," He muttered, putting down his teacup. "I should be getting to bed." He lifted his eyes momentarily to meet Oliver's before getting up and moving towards the hall. "Goodnight, Oliver, and thanks." Percy started off towards his bedroom, and seconds later, Oliver heard the door shut. His eyes wandered over to the abandoned, half-empty teacup. It was the first time he'd ever seen Percy leave a single dirty dish unwashed, never mind out in plain sight. Sighing, he picked up the cup and started towards the kitchen with it.

Turns out everyone's human, even Percy Weasley. Oliver washed Percy's cup and left it to drain on the drying rack. As he started out of the kitchen, his eyes fell on the small pad of paper sitting next to the fruit bowl. His mouth turned up at the corners, and he turned back into the tiny room, grabbing a pen and the paper and starting to write.

*****

Percy woke in the morning feeling somewhat refreshed. He could hear Oliver's snoring through the other man's bedroom door as he passed by it on his way to the kitchen. Percy brewed his coffee on auto-pilot, going through the motions without really paying attention. It was only when his travel mug was filled and his toast buttered that he noticed something out of place. There, in the usual place, was a note from Oliver. Percy normally would not have expected a note in the morning. He grabbed it up, perhaps a little anxiously, and began to read.

Percy,

I ate the last tangerine last night before bed… try to get some more from the same place as last time… they have the best ones. Also, we could still use some milk. If you have time, that is. Ta for now,

-Oliver

P.S.: Smile.

Percy creased the note carefully, stuck it in his shirt pocket, and stepped, grinning, out of the apartment.