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Harry Potter: Trio Era: Oliver Wood/Percy Weasley
Title: World Cup of Memories
Completion: Completed
X-posted: gaiaonline.com, aff.net, greatestjournal.com
Words: 1785
Rating: PG-13, light R at the most
Pairings: Oliver/Percy
Summary: Oliver and Percy spend time together at the World Cup.
Author's Notes: Written for the HP Slash Guild's Fall contest at gaiaonline.com. I won.


There was something about the look in Oliver’s eyes as he focused on a new broom that made Percy wish he were made entirely out of wood. Once, Percy had mentioned it to Oliver, bringing a loud burst of laughing from the Quidditch-crazy boy. That night had been one of the odd ones, when Percy had somehow allowed himself be talked into a bet on the World Cup. A bet that had ended with Percy smoking marijuana for the first time in Oliver’s tent.

He remembered everything about that day. The exact look of that dirt smudge on the slight bend of Oliver’s nose. The way Oliver had stopped breathing when Percy took his thumb and forefinger to the bridge, a bit of wetness involved as if he were a mother cleaning her son. There was nothing parental about after that though. Percy did not even remember noticing the warning signs of Oliver’s lips parting, a slow bit of breath escaping as his head tilted up. He only started registering what was happening when those slightly wind-chapped lips pressed against his, hesitantly at first and gradually getting bolder. The way that Oliver had used his own lips to part Percy’s. Percy distinctly remembered thinking that Penelope never kissed like this. He always believed kissing was meant to be wet and something a person did because they had to when dating. Yet there was Oliver Wood, his best mate, with his lips pressed against his and their tongues moving in a way that Percy just knew back then Oliver was asserting his dominance.

They had continued on like that for what seemed to be forever, Percy’s thin arms wrapping around Oliver’s slender body as if they were flying in the air and he was holding on for his life. An embrace that begged him not to let go. Only when they found the need to breath did their bodies slide away from each other, a bit of distance between as Oliver put away the odd drug. Both seemed to have known that something had changed there and only when Percy broke the silence with his odd statement about brooms did Oliver clutch his stomach, bending over and kneeling down as he burst into peals of laughter. Percy felt silly and inadequate as he watched his best mate, his face turning red with a flush that made his ears burn as he realized what he said. ‘I like you better with only a bit of Wood in you’ had been his words later that night, giving his mate an exaggerated wink. It had been Percy’s turn to laugh then.


It was a good thing that Oliver’s parents were very good about privacy. Late that night, Percy awoke to the soothing feeling of fingers sliding through his slightly curly hair.

“Perce?” A finger tugged softly on a curl that usually hung on his forehead.

“Yes Oliver?” Percy tilted his head up and could barely see in the dark. When his eyes adjusted he smiled, adoring the way that the shadows of light played upon Oliver in his half-dressed glory. It was hard to concentrate with Oliver’s shirt off, especially when the last tendrils of slumber were still upon his mind and body.

When his eyes slid upwards they met with his best mate’s. The way their eyes locked made him lose his voice, though it seemed no such problem for Oliver. “’Member my first Quidditch game?” Unwilling to blink, Percy made a soft no, just barely moving his head, afraid that if he broke eye contact everything around him would change. “I made a royal fool of meself. Body all bludgeoned up. I ‘member that I was lonely the first night there and you came ‘round with my homework, giving me one of those serious looks and telling me that my arm still worked ‘nough to get my work done.”

A flush spread on Percy’s face and he hoped Oliver could not see in the dark. His ears burned as he finally broke contact and wondered if he should move away. “You told me I had no sense of timing and needed more pity for the wounded. You were doing badly in classes, never earning any points.” He remembered it all too well.

A little, piteous form of Oliver looking so horribly torn up from bludgers as he was carried off the field. Madam Hooch screaming since the Slytherins were laughing in the stands, saying that Wood was not as thick as they thought. He remembered hearing the way Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagell talked, saying it would be best if Oliver dropped the team. It interfered with his studies that he was so desperately failing. Above all, Percy remembered seeing the way that Oliver’s face had changed as he played that game, a bit of nervousness, but overall giddiness and joy. His face was lit up whenever he caught a Quaffle, throwing it back out with perfect accuracy. He made mistakes. After all, who didn’t? Yet when Oliver did them they seemed as if there was nothing wrong with them. Almost as if every mistake was a small step in some large plan to win the game and amaze everybody.

“You told me that if I found the energy for Quidditch then I had energy for homework. You gave me a long lecture about how knowledge is needed to go hand in hand with sports.” Tips of fingernails dug slightly in Percy’s scalp, the pads of Oliver’s fingers moving in a way that calmed him.

“You told me exactly what to do with that lecture too.” Percy meant to frown as he put a tentative hand on Oliver’s chest. It was warm from the summer heat and he vaguely wondered what it tasted like. A gasp from Oliver made him realize his lips pressed upon the top of his chest, the tiniest flick of his tongue used to find out the taste. Slightly salty, a thin sheen of perspiration.

Percy felt the soft tug on his curly hair, forcing him to tilt his head and look into Oliver’s eyes once more. Gentle lips pressed against his, clumsy and hesitant at first, but as Percy’s lips parted in allowance he found himself soon consumed by the passion of Oliver’s kiss. It was nice. No odd muggle drugs this time to make his head dizzy. Only Oliver putting Percy’s head in the clouds at their tongues mingled, their hands sliding across each other’s body. Percy’s hands slid to Oliver’s backside, his palms flat as he held his mate to him. He whimpered when their bodies pressed together, their hips moving as they both felt the same embarrassing thing. Arousal. Yet it did not seem so embarrassing with Oliver. Percy did not feel shame or worry. It just felt right.


There was something peaceful about a morning waking up in a tangle of limbs with Percy Weasley, Oliver decided as his eyes slowly opened. A long, gangly leg was wrapped around one of his firmer legs, the undernourished body of his best mate curled against his chest in a way that left no secrets should the Wood parents walk in. For minutes Oliver simply stared, hypnotized by the way the sun came through the small flap of their family tent, shining its golden rays upon the sleeping Percy. He had never noticed how gorgeous his eyelashes were until that moment. A red-golden tint that caught ever ray of light and caused the tips of the lashes to sparkle in a way that made Oliver lose his breath. The little splattering of freckles over the bridge of Percy’s nose was adorable, each dot a kiss from the sun, begging Oliver to press his lips to that deliciously pale face.

A soft flutter of red-gold lashes told Oliver that Percy had awoken, his mind groggy with sleep as they stared at one another. It seemed neither wanted to part as they remembered the night before.

“Dream?” Percy’s voice was thick in a way that Oliver had barely registered before. They woke up in the same dorm each morning. How could he miss that? Then again, Percy was so prim and proper during school that he found the contrast with the boy he had shared moments with last night amazing.

“No.” Oliver stated with a slow smile. He lifted one hand to cup Percy’s cheek and caressed the pale skin, meeting his mate halfway for a simple press of the lips. Nothing could be done halfway though and soon their lips were parted, devouring each other with need and a passion which had been held back for who knew how long. Gradually, the kiss grew even deeper. It seemed morning breath would not even keep them apart. Oliver moved his hand to Percy’s thin waist, pulling their bodies together and realizing that once again they were aroused. “Wood seems to fit you properly.” He heard Percy chuckle before their lips ravaged once more.


“You boys up?” Mr. Wood stood outside the divider of their tent, slowly opening it and giving the boys just enough time to shoot awkwardly apart from one another. Percy’s eyes were darting about in panic, trying to get dressed and hide his arousal at the same time.

Getting an idea, Oliver joined in the flurry of movement to gather clothes and put as many layers on as the summer heat would allow. “Umbridge, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flobberworms, Madam Pince in a bathing suit!” He said quickly.

“Ew.” Both Percy Weasley’s voice and Mr. Wood’s echoed as his father stood at the flap.

Laughing, Oliver nodded to his father in greeting. Mr. Wood rolled his eyes with a shrug of ‘I don’t want to know why you said that’ and Oliver could see Percy’s shoulders sag under the relief that not only had both arousals been beautifully, or in another sense appallingly, put away but that Mr. Wood seemed to have no idea of what happened.

“You’re mum’s made breakfast so hurry up. Play your games another time. Percy, after breakfast your family wants ya home. We’ll walk you back once the tent’s down.” Mr. Wood turned and shut the flaps again.

“Thank you, Mr. Wood. Mrs. Wood as well.” Percy called with a politeness that only he seemed to have for his best mate’s parents. Lowering his voice, he gave Oliver an odd look. “Pince in a bikini?”

“It worked.” Oliver flashed a smile before tangling himself in his clothes once more.