Chapter Text
Oliver couldn’t tear his eyes of the grandfatherly clock above Flitwicks desk. Only five minutes of his last Friday lesson left and the upcoming weekend marked the start of the Quidditch season. In his head he was calculating their training schedule and how he could make splitting the quidditch pit for training sessions work. Marcus Flint was hellbend as always, to interfere with their training hours.
Oliver must have been so deep in his thoughts, that he had actually missed the end of the lesson and most of his peers already had packed up and were leaving the classroom.
“Mr. Wood, can I have a word?” Professor Flitwick asked and Oliver quickly shoved his things into his bag and walked over to the tiny Professor, sitting behind his desk, what brought him to eye to eye with Oliver.
He had already gotten a speech on not letting his school work slip during quidditch season and the firm promise, that she believed that they would win the quidditch cup this year.
Snape had more or less given him the same speech, just without the encouragement at the end. And the lofty remark, that practice time on the pit was for the players to sort out themselves instead of complaining to their head of house. Oliver was still seeping with rage about that, because he knew for a fact, that Snape had gotten his Snakes a head start on claiming time slots for training. Oliver had told MacGonagall and she had taken three time slots back for Gryffindors training. But Snape made Oliver sound like a complaining child and only occupying his head with extended fantasies about beating the Slytherin next time on the field, helped him to keep his temper in check. Snape would gladly use every opportunity to make things harder for the Gryffindor Team.
So Oliver expected Professor Flitwick to say something similar. But the tiny wizard only smiled at him sincerely and wished him a good season. His genuine enthusiasm was balm on Oliver’s still festering anger over Snape and so he thanked his Professor and left the classroom with his good mood restored.
Now nothing was holding him back from their first Quidditch-Training this season this afternoon. Finally.
He stepped out of the classroom, just to see two guys bumping into Percy Weasley, knocking him over in the process. Percy went down hard and for a split second, Oliver thought of running after the boys, but Percy’s crumbled figure on the floor seemed more important right now.
He knelt beside his classmate and was relieved, when he found him dazed, but conscious.
He took the hand Oliver offered him and hoisted himself into a sitting position. His glasses sat askew on his face and his normally perfectly parted hair was disheveled.
“Are you alright, Weasley?” Oliver asked worriedly, when he saw no injuries, but Percy seemed out of it anyway. He shifted a bit around him, so he was directly looking at his face.
„Percy, are you hurt?“ he asked again and reached out to grab his shoulder.
Percy flinched an yelped in pain.
„My shoulder hurts“, he said quietly. „And my hipbone“, he added after a pause.
„Do you need to go to the hospital wing?“ Oliver asked concerned. But Percy looked at him with a near panicked expression.
„No, no hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey would ask questions“, he explained in a rush, shaking his head.
„Damn right, she‘ll ask questions“, Oliver said hotly, „who were they and why did they attack you?“ he asked fiercely, his temper flaring again.
“Nothing important”, Percy dismissed it with a wave of his good hand, letting go of his injured shoulder for a moment. “I caught one of them making out with his girlfriend in a broomcloset after curfew last week. That’s just revenge for reporting them back to their head of house.”
Oliver stared at him for a moment his mouth hanging open.
“How is that nothing important? I’m sorry Percy, but you are a stickler for the rules, you would report them for being out after curfew, but won’t get after them for attacking you rather violently?“ he asked in disbelief.
Suddenly the expression in Percy’s blue eyes, that a moment ago were so pained, grew cold and hard.
„Being out after curfew might be dangerous, there is a murderer out there, in Case you have forgotten. Me getting hurt,“ he tried to shrug his shoulders, but winced and stilled, „that’s only my Problem“, he said nonchalantly.
At that moment a ray of sunlight hit the window behind Percy and let his now messy hair glow like gold and fire. His features were so delicate, that he looked almost ethereal. His skin seemed so soft, that Oliver couldn’t resist touching him. He lightly stroked his cheek and Percy’s pale blue eyes flickered up to Oliver’s deep brown ones with surprise.
Suddenly Oliver was flooded with two emotions he not had often outside of the Quidditch field: the need to protect and the desire to win. His body felt like he was hit with an over enthusiastic heating charm. He needed to protect Percy, wanted to win his trust.
Until now, not one of the Weasley siblings had envoked his protective instincts, they all seemed pretty capable of standing their ground, annoyingly so. But right now, something was off about Percy. He never had seen him this vulnerable.
„You try to protect people of their own stupidity, but who protects you, if you have deemed yourself so insignificant you won’t look out for yourself? Who keeps you safe?” he asked lowly, part anger at the bullies, part sadness, that Percy seemed to be a bully to himself too.
Percy stared up at him, shock and hurt were written all over his face. A sheen of moisture welled up in his eyes, but he turned his head away, before Oliver could see the tears fall.
“I can take care of myself just fine,” he croaked, his voice having nothing in common with his usual overly formal and sometimes condescending manner of speech.
“Thank you Wood, for helping me, but I got it from here. You can leave now.”
Oliver could tell, that he tried to sound dismissive, but to him it sounded almost broken.
So instead of getting up and leaving him alone, like Percy demanded, Oliver moved even closer to him.
„I’m not leaving you alone, when you are hurt and in pain. I’ll help you get up and then we can go to the dorm to clean up before lunch. Sounds alright?“
He at least waited for Percy’s accepting nod before he moved to his left side, to prop him up under the shoulder, that wasn’t injured.
Percy stood stable without needing to lean on Oliver to keep himself up. But when he reached for his satchel bag with his right hand, he gasped and couldn’t pick ih up.
Oliver snatched the bag from the floor, before Percy could even think, to try picking it up with his left hand.
With furrowed brows he nodded to his shoulder.
„I think it’s pretty bad, you really should go to Madam Pomfrey. You could say you tripped or something.“
„No“, Percy said and started walking in the direction to the Gryffindor common room.
The corridor’s were now filling with students, heading towards the great hall for lunch and Oliver had to hurry to keep up.
„But…“,
„I said no!“
Oliver huffed out a breath, „then at least let me have a look at how bad it is. I have some good bruising salve, my mom makes it herself. Can’t help get bruised pretty often with quidditch and all…“, he was aware that he was rambling forced himself to stop.
Percy shook his head, „that’s hardly necessary Wood, I can handle it myself.“
Now Oliver was losing patience, but at least dealing with the annoying stubbornness, the Weasley-Twins displayed quite often, he knew how to address the matter.
„Weasley“, he said sharply in his Captains-voice, and as expected, Percy’s head snapped around and he stopped walking.
„What?“, he snapped, but Oliver still saw the fear in his eyes. He purposefully lowered his voice and spoke more softly but still firm.
„Either you go to the hospital wing right now, or you can me have a look at it. Your choice“, he told him.
And if I don’t…“, Percy started to say, but Oliver shot him his most intimidating look.
„If you don’t choose one of these options right now, I drag you down to the hospital wing myself. And believe me, you really don’t want that.“
Percy sighed in defeat.
„Alright, you can have a look at it, but then you’ll stop hounding me, please.“
„Depends.“
„On what?“
Olliver shrugged his shoulders, „On how much I can trust you to keep yourself safe. And if you can’t do that, somebody has to.“
He smirked, when Percy just starred at him, his mouth desperately trying to form words, but he seemed incapable of letting out something more distinctive than the angry cat like hiss he directed at Oliver, before resuming his aggressive stride towards their common room again.
By the time they reached their dorm room, Percy was shaking with exhaustion and nerves. At least they were alone. Lunch would start in a few minutes and it seemed that all had left by now. Percy tried to take a deep breath to calm himself. He didn’t want to undress in front of his roommate, but he figured it was safer than to go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey certainly would have had questions, and not necessarily only about his injuries.
With shaking fingers, he removed his cloak and his jumper. Oliver rummaged through his nightstand, until he grabbed a small glass jar, presumably with his mothers remedy for bruises and stepped closer to him.
He plucked gently at the hem of Percy’s shirt.
„That needs to come off too“, he said and somehow the softness in his voice made Percy comply. He had no choice anyway.
He turned around and pulled the shirt over his head.
Behind him, he could hear Oliver gasp.