Operation Site Anniversary: Hour Twenty
Jan. 29th, 2004 03:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mousapelliStarting. To. Drag. Need to get up and walk around soon or something. Sick of LJ's crap. Love ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
florahart, cave_canem, and ficbymarks for my respective birthday fics.
Speaking offlorahart, here is the Percy that she requested, in any flavor I care to make him. I've never done Percy before today, except in snippits, but I am very please with how this turned out.
Some Things Never Change
It wasn't that Percy didn't enjoy Quidditch. While he was certainly not as exuberant about the sport as his brothers or father, Percy had nothing against a rousing bout of flying and ball tossing.
It was just that after three hours of sitting up properly on a bench at the Puddlemere United stadium, Percy's whole back had begun to writhe with agony. He needed to stretch, and he needed to do it now, before he began to twitch uncontrollably.
"I'm going to get some refreshments!" he announced to his benchmates, people from his office. They had invited him because they really couldn't not invite him when they were asking everybody else and he was right there, and Percy had accepted because it was polite.
They waved him off and returned to the game without really paying attention, and Percy nearly wept with relief as he stood up and pressed hands against his aching lower back.
A short walk will do me good, Percy reasoned, and he set off to do exactly that, picking his way carefully down the narrow staircase of the seating tower, wrinkling his nose at the Butterbeer cans and chocolate frog wrappers that threatened to trip him and send him careening down the stairs.
At the bottom, he was arching his back to stretch when a familiar voice spoke up.
"You realize that you've been to every single one of my games?"
Percy started with a jerk that set his back aflame again, and cursed as he turned to see Oliver Wood leaning against the bottom of the seating tower, watching him. Oliver looked just the same as he had since graduation, the only difference being that his Quidditch robes were now blue and instead of Gryffindor red.
"Every single one," Oliver continued, shaking his head. "My first professional game and everything, even though I didn't actually get to play. I'm in the program, though."
"Oliver!" Percy pushed his glasses up his nose to cover his surprise. "You play for Puddlemere?"
"Only the Reserve," Oliver shrugged, taking a few steps closer. "The game's about over anyway, though, no chance they'll need me."
"You are ahead three hundred points," Percy admitted. Oliver nodded and craned his neck to watch the Quidditch players zip past above them, and for a second, all Percy could see was Oliver Wood the First Year Gryffindor, yearning with every inch of his 11-year-old body to play on the House team.
"You never change," Percy said before he realized he'd opened his mouth, and the tips of ears burned.
"You did, though," Oliver replied light, flicking his glance back down to earth. "You grew up, Pwee."
Percy laughed out loud at the nickname he'd had for all of five minutes in First Year, a name Oliver had given him after reading his abbreviated name off his trunk in their new dormitory.
"I should go," Percy said after another moment. "I'm here with…people."
"I know," Oliver said. "I saw you up there, in the stands. You never can hide a Weasley in a crowd."
"No," Percy shook his head.
"We play Chudley in two weeks," Oliver said. "I might get air-time."
"I'll be there," Percy promised spontaneously, and Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "Can't break tradition for your first game, it'd be bad luck."
Percy's ears flamed redder than ever, but in the back of his mind he reasoned that he'd promised to take Ron to see them at some point anyways.
"Deal," Oliver grinned, sticking out a hand for Percy to shake. "I'll buy you a drink afterwards."
"We'll start new traditions," Percy agreed, returning the grin.
The grin stuck long after Percy had returned to his seat, the feel of Oliver's hand still tingling across his skin.
New traditions, he thought to himself, his heart the lightest it had ever been during a Quidditch match.
florahart, cave_canem, and ficbymarks for my respective birthday fics. Speaking of
florahart, here is the Percy that she requested, in any flavor I care to make him. I've never done Percy before today, except in snippits, but I am very please with how this turned out.Some Things Never Change
It wasn't that Percy didn't enjoy Quidditch. While he was certainly not as exuberant about the sport as his brothers or father, Percy had nothing against a rousing bout of flying and ball tossing.
It was just that after three hours of sitting up properly on a bench at the Puddlemere United stadium, Percy's whole back had begun to writhe with agony. He needed to stretch, and he needed to do it now, before he began to twitch uncontrollably.
"I'm going to get some refreshments!" he announced to his benchmates, people from his office. They had invited him because they really couldn't not invite him when they were asking everybody else and he was right there, and Percy had accepted because it was polite.
They waved him off and returned to the game without really paying attention, and Percy nearly wept with relief as he stood up and pressed hands against his aching lower back.
A short walk will do me good, Percy reasoned, and he set off to do exactly that, picking his way carefully down the narrow staircase of the seating tower, wrinkling his nose at the Butterbeer cans and chocolate frog wrappers that threatened to trip him and send him careening down the stairs.
At the bottom, he was arching his back to stretch when a familiar voice spoke up.
"You realize that you've been to every single one of my games?"
Percy started with a jerk that set his back aflame again, and cursed as he turned to see Oliver Wood leaning against the bottom of the seating tower, watching him. Oliver looked just the same as he had since graduation, the only difference being that his Quidditch robes were now blue and instead of Gryffindor red.
"Every single one," Oliver continued, shaking his head. "My first professional game and everything, even though I didn't actually get to play. I'm in the program, though."
"Oliver!" Percy pushed his glasses up his nose to cover his surprise. "You play for Puddlemere?"
"Only the Reserve," Oliver shrugged, taking a few steps closer. "The game's about over anyway, though, no chance they'll need me."
"You are ahead three hundred points," Percy admitted. Oliver nodded and craned his neck to watch the Quidditch players zip past above them, and for a second, all Percy could see was Oliver Wood the First Year Gryffindor, yearning with every inch of his 11-year-old body to play on the House team.
"You never change," Percy said before he realized he'd opened his mouth, and the tips of ears burned.
"You did, though," Oliver replied light, flicking his glance back down to earth. "You grew up, Pwee."
Percy laughed out loud at the nickname he'd had for all of five minutes in First Year, a name Oliver had given him after reading his abbreviated name off his trunk in their new dormitory.
"I should go," Percy said after another moment. "I'm here with…people."
"I know," Oliver said. "I saw you up there, in the stands. You never can hide a Weasley in a crowd."
"No," Percy shook his head.
"We play Chudley in two weeks," Oliver said. "I might get air-time."
"I'll be there," Percy promised spontaneously, and Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "Can't break tradition for your first game, it'd be bad luck."
Percy's ears flamed redder than ever, but in the back of his mind he reasoned that he'd promised to take Ron to see them at some point anyways.
"Deal," Oliver grinned, sticking out a hand for Percy to shake. "I'll buy you a drink afterwards."
"We'll start new traditions," Percy agreed, returning the grin.
The grin stuck long after Percy had returned to his seat, the feel of Oliver's hand still tingling across his skin.
New traditions, he thought to himself, his heart the lightest it had ever been during a Quidditch match.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-29 12:22 pm (UTC)Yes! Exactly! That's so canon Percy.
And awww to this. The Percy/Oliverness is so darned cute. I'm so calling him Pwee from now on.
For hour twenty, this is surprisingly error free. Except that you're "please" on how this turned out, instead of "pleased".
Re:
Date: 2004-01-29 11:46 pm (UTC)I added the Pwee thing on a whim, cause i wanted him to have a silly nickname, and everybody really likes it (me too!) yay personal canon! and the percy/oliver really grew on me too. I might do more with this one.
ha, trust me to get the story right and then eff up the post. ack!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-29 01:37 pm (UTC)Air time. Hee!
How can he be so clueless to have never noticed? I love that Oliver finds him in the crowd.
Pwee! Hee!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-29 03:49 pm (UTC)It's just like Percy to spend 3 hours "sitting up properly." He needs to get more exercise! Preferably with Oliver. ;-)
Re:
Date: 2004-01-29 11:47 pm (UTC)I heartily agree!
"Pwee, get over here, we're going to shag!"
"Stop CALLING me that, or YOU'LL be minus YOUR pwee!"
no subject
Date: 2004-01-29 05:28 pm (UTC)...and the tips of ears burned...
A "his" in there would work slightly better there, I think. ^^
no subject
Date: 2004-01-29 08:12 pm (UTC)*friends*
Hope you don't mind.
Re:
Date: 2004-01-29 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-03 04:52 pm (UTC)Should I call him Pwee?? Think I will.
Very good, single little thing, missing a 'his' in the 'and the tips of ears burned.'-sentense.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-04 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 04:43 am (UTC)Percy's awkwardness and Oliver's well, bravado, worked very well together.
Very much liking them together.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-29 10:38 pm (UTC)