Late

They catch each other's eyes from across the Great Hall. A battle is being waged between them. Percy eyes burn with rage – he really, really, really wants to find Rookwood and get revenge for Fred. Seeing Oliver, though, it does something to Percy. It always does.

They meet in the middle, spells flying all about.

"You're late," Oliver says. Percy grins wryly.

"I got the news a little late," he says.

Suddenly, a chilling voice echoes around them. Voldemort commends them for their bravery, and orders his forces to retreat for one hour. Percy and Oliver simultaneously sigh with relief as Death Eaters begin to trickle out the doors.

They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment before Percy throws his arms around Oliver and kisses him soundly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I was an idiot, and I'm sorry, and I will spend forever making it up to you, if you'll let me. I love you."

"Perce, are you aware that we're in public?"

"I don't care," Percy says firmly. "I'm done hiding. I love you too much to keep that a secret, and I was stupid to try."

The knot that's been building in Oliver's chest since the beginning of their covert relationship so many years ago loosens abruptly.

"I love you too, Perce. I love you too," he murmurs into the mass of red curls.