“Move along now! Back to the common room with you!”

The small flock of Butterbeer-wielding sixth-years groaned at Percy as he pointed in the direction of the Fat Lady.

“C’mon, Percy, we just won the Cup!” whined Lydia Gladstone. “Can’t we have a little fun?”

Percy shook his head. “You’ve already been allowed to stay out past midnight, and you know the rule is ten. I think I’ve been more than fair.”

Rhys Gwyther, Lydia’s boyfriend, was poised to argue, but Percy fixed him and the rest of the group with his best ‘I mean business’ look and stopped any potential argument before it started. With reproachful faces, they followed Rhys back toward Gryffindor Tower, and Percy watched them the entire way to make sure they didn’t bolt away the moment he turned his back. It was soon apparent that this had been the plan when Rhys shot him a sneer before muttering ‘Flibbertigibbet’ and climbing through.

After about ten minutes, there were no signs that the errant sixth-years were going to come back out, so Percy decided to call it a night. The next prefect shift in that area was scheduled to come by in about five minutes, so he wasn’t really cutting out early.

Upon passing through the portrait hole himself, Percy was annoyed to see how many revellers were still knocking about in the common room. At this rate, he wasn’t likely to get to sleep before two, so he settled on taking a shower instead. Any hopes of doing that, however, were summarily dashed when he saw that three of the seventh-year boys had wandered up the stairs with their party, as well as with a nearly-empty bottle of some unidentified liquor.

When his roommates saw him, they went quiet, clearly expecting the Head Boy to end their night early, but Percy found that he didn’t particularly care. He already knew what would happen if he took them to McGonagall for having alcohol on the grounds: detention and a ‘boys will be boys’ dismissal. And he still had a shred of his magnanimity left from the win earlier that day, as well, but that didn’t mean that he had to stay around for the after-party, though.

Tom Sommerby lifted the bottle toward Percy. “Care for a nightcap, Perce?”

“No, thank you,” Percy said stiffly. “I’m just headed to the prefects’ bathroom, so carry on.” And with that, he dug into his trunk for his pyjamas and slipped out before he regretted leaving them to their drink.

Normally, Percy never used the prefects’ bath, but it was likely the quietest place in the castle. He was happy that Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup, but that didn’t give his housemates the right to disturb the peace so late at night, especially with O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s on the horizon. But, even if his night was spent chasing partiers back into the common room, that did not mean that felt right ruining the fun for anyone else. He couldn’t even believe he was thinking such things, but the ten Galleons in his pocket that he’d won from Penelope would’ve made him quite the hypocrite.

The trip to the fourth floor was a quick one. Percy had dutifully flagged down the sixth-year Hufflepuff prefect who was taking over patrol, letting him know to keep an eye out for any possible breakouts from the portrait hole. He felt sorry for the younger student, who looked hardly able to keep his eyes open, but everyone knew that sixth-years always had the late weekend shifts.

“Rub-a-dub-dub,” he mumbled to the correct door, and the giant prefects’ bathroom was revealed. He hadn’t been in there since the year before, but it was exactly as he remembered it, smirking mermaid and all. Still just as indifferent as he was when he first laid eyes on her, Percy went over to the side table where the towels were stored and placed his kit far enough away from the water to keep anything from getting wet.

It took a minute or two for him to realise that something actually was amiss; the water was supposed to fill on his command, but the vast tub was already full of sudsy water. The bubbles were flat, which said that they were on the old side; that also didn’t make sense, since the water was supposed to empty when the occupant left the room.

Percy didn’t get the opportunity to make the connection as to what this entailed, his reverie shattered by the sound of water splashing behind him. He froze, still hunched over his pyjamas, his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he finally realised that the tub hadn’t emptied for a very good reason: the previous occupant had not yet left. It was his most fervent hope that whoever it was, he or she wasn’t Marjorie Bulstrode, the seventh-year Slytherin prefect. He’d have nightmares for years if he saw anything south of her horse face and rabbit teeth.

There was no way he could escape, nowhere he could hide; whoever it was would hear the door open, and there was nothing in the room that could conceal him. For all he knew, he might have already been seen, and waiting to find out who else was in there was nearly as nerve-racking as watching the Quidditch match earlier that day or waiting over the summer for the O.W.L. marks to arrive.

Finally, Percy couldn’t stand it anymore; he had to know whose bath he had interrupted — more specifically, who was careless enough to forget to lock the door. Taking a deep breath, he spun around to face the music, and if he were expecting anyone to meet his eyes in acknowledgment, it certainly wouldn’t have been Oliver Wood. A dripping wet, completely naked Oliver Wood, and his treacherous eyes kept trying to stray down there. He had never played sports or shared a room outside of his dorm, and all the other boys changed clothes in the loo, so he had never actually seen another man’s... bits. And it went without saying that he had never tried to do so, either — especially not those belonging to Oliver, who had slept in the bed next to his for the past seven years. Nonetheless, they were there, and he had seen everything.

“Weasley,” Oliver acknowledged.

The sound of Oliver’s voice mercifully gave Percy’s mind something upon which to concentrate other than a certain set of family jewels. Staring at the other boy’s face, his gaze falling somewhere in the vicinity of the left cheek, he said, “Wood.”

Silence fell between the two of them as Percy did his best not to peek again and Oliver crossed his arms and said nothing, seemingly incognisant of his nudity.

It took a while before Percy could muster the courage to speak again. “I thought you’d be at the common room party.”

“No,” Oliver said. “I’m not good with crowds.”

Percy raised a brow. “Then you’ve made an interesting choice of recreation. Maybe you should have taken up basket-weaving instead.”

“Maybe.”

After another bout of quiet, Percy asked, “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

“I was expecting someone.”

“Who?”

Oliver’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Seeing that Percy had no retort and that he had won their little verbal battle, the smile slid into a smirk. “Mind handing me a towel?”

His mind still trying to figure out whom Oliver who could have been waiting for, Percy nearly missed the question. “Huh?”

“A towel, Percy. Hand me a towel, since you’re standing in front of them.”

“Oh!” Percy said, blood rushing to his face in embarrassment as he blindly reached for a towel from the pile behind him. He didn’t dare look away, as he was terrified that he would inadvertently lay eyes on the very thing he was trying not to see when he turned back around. He could almost feel Oliver’s amusement, but he was obviously not uncomfortable with the situation.

Once Percy’s blind groping finally produced the desired results, he thrust the towel directly in front of him, blocking even an accidental view of anything south of Oliver’s chest. The latter chortled as he took the proffered item and started drying his hair, still ignoring his nakedness as he sauntered away. That gave Percy an unfettered backside view, and he felt his mouth go dry and his breath quicken.

But as soon as it started, Oliver had already pulled on jeans and a jumper and was ready to depart. He gave a quick wave as he was walking out and said, “All yours, Weasley.” The door closed behind him, and Percy started when the water whooshed out of the tub. This left him alone in the vast bathroom with an empty pool and strange thoughts about an even stranger interaction with his roommate, whom he would certainly think about in a whole new way.

“All aboard! On the Express!” Percy heard Hagrid bellow over the din of every student in the school making last minute summer plans with their mates.

He wanted to be doing something to distract him from the fact that he was leaving the place he had loved best since he was eleven, but the seventh-year prefects, as well as the Head Boy and Girl, had been relieved of their responsibilities so they could enjoy their last trip to London from Hogwarts. That would’ve been perfect if he and Penelope had not just parted ways mere hours before.

It had been inevitable, and they both knew that. For years, Percy had said that he had ambitions of working in the Ministry, ambitions which Penelope didn’t share. She wanted to work at St Mungo’s, and Healer training would consume even more time than his scheduled summer internship. They would hardly get time to sleep, let alone see one another, so both thought it best to end their relationship on good terms rather than let their respective situations do it for them.

However, that didn’t mean their parting was painless. For almost two years, he and Penelope had been together, surviving petrifaction, Dementors, and even Fred and George’s late night antics. The thought of not seeing her every day was strange, but they both knew their relationship would never have worked, so to keep the severance as easy as possible they had resolved not to sit together on the train.

But no one else was making a move to sit with him, either. He was in the second to last carriage, the last one already taken by a flock of young Hufflepuffs, but every time someone peeked into the window, they would just shake their heads to their companions and go back. Since he was no longer Head Boy, no one felt the need to be nice to him in order to get out of trouble, but by this point, he could have used some false politeness just so he wasn’t the only bloke on the train sitting alone.

At last, the train started to creep forward. However, just as it did, Oliver stumbled through the carriage door and quickly shut it behind him, sitting as far from sight of the walkway as he could. Percy found this curious — at least until a furious-looking Alicia Spinnet stalked by, peeking in to see if she could spot her prey. Not seeing him, she went back toward the front of the train, leaving the two boys alone together once again.

“Wood,” Percy said coolly.

“Thanks for not giving me up, Perce.” Oliver peered down the corridor to make sure Alicia wasn’t coming back that way. “She’s dead hacked off at me.”

This struck Percy as odd. From what he had seen, the Quidditch players had always got on quite well; apparently, Oliver had done something to topple the ship. “Why would that be?”

“You don’t want to know,” Oliver said, checking out the door again. “Women — especially desperate ones — are dangerous.”

Some things started to click in Percy’s brain. “Especially women who feel like they’ve been taken advantage of.” He crossed his arms and gave Oliver his best frosty glare.

“How did you know?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “It’s been my job to figure out misbehaviour for two years. I’d wager she was the one you’d been expecting in the bathroom the night of the Quidditch Cup.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache, Oliver said, “Yeah, that was the plan. She couldn’t get by the blockade on the portrait hole, though. She even bribed a few sixth-years to cause a distraction but couldn’t make a clean break.”

This brought a smirk of satisfaction to Percy’s face. “That was me. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”

Oliver sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It was all a big mistake, anyway. The girl may be lightning on a broom, but she’s completely barmy. We get to a bit of snogging and she starts planning our future and talking about kids! How do you go from kissing to bloody kids in ten seconds?”

“So, if you broke things off for that, then why is she so angry with you?”

“I told her I’d never have sex with her in a million years.”

Sure he would choke if he took a full breath, Percy squeezed his lips shut to keep his composure. He wanted so badly to chide Oliver for leading Alicia on, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. He just... couldn’t. Instead, he just moved to sit next to the other boy and patted him on the shoulder.

Looking over at Percy in surprise, Oliver said, “I didn’t have you pegged as the sympathetic type.”

“I’m not,” Percy said, finally able to inhale properly. In an ironic twist, though, he couldn’t think of anything to say — at first. There was still one thing he had on his mind. “Why did you, erm, turn her down?”

Wringing his hands, Oliver said, “You mean other than the obvious? It’s complicated. Really complicated.”

Quirking a brow, Percy said, “Well, we’ve got a long train ride, and I think you’ll be stuck here for a while.”

“Fine. If you really want to know... I don’t fancy her all that much.” Seeing disbelief on Percy’s face, he added, “Not in that way, at any rate. She’s nice, even if she’s a bit bonkers, but I’m not physically attracted to her.”

Percy didn’t say anything because he wasn’t sure what would have been appropriate. He understood how Oliver could balk at the idea of being roped into commitment before they’d even left school, but as far as attractiveness went, Alicia was one of the prettiest girls in Gryffindor.

“You think I’m mad, don’t you?” Oliver said.

“A little,” Percy replied honestly. “It’s just hard to believe that...”

Oliver smiled wryly. “That I wouldn’t want her anyway?” Apparently, Percy’s expression gave him the answer. “That night, I got some time to think. There were times when I was waiting in that tub, wondering what the hell I was doing there. About an hour after the game, she told me to meet her at eleven, that she wanted to celebrate, and there was no way to mistake what she meant.

“But when you showed up, I took it as a sign that I shouldn’t have been there. I mean, I wasn’t even disappointed, and when I got back to the dorm, I was relieved that I didn’t have to go that far. This is also when I realised that I wasn’t really interested in her in any capacity, but I didn’t want to be the sort of shit who dumps his girlfriend because they never have sex. I don’t want to be that sort of guy, and I do respect her. I just didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t do anything.”

The outpouring of honesty threw Percy. In the years that they’d known one another, attended the same classes, and even slept six feet away from each other, Oliver had never once confided in him about anything. There had always been such a disconnect between both of them because they were so wildly different in terms of personality and priority on the deepest of levels. But that day, they were still different, but the distance had dissolved. From an outside perspective, they could even have been mistaken for friends.

“Percy,” Oliver said after a long period of silence, “have you ever wanted something that you were pretty sure you couldn’t have?”

“You have no idea,” Percy muttered, his mind darting immediately to an idyllic world where he could read and revise in peace, which didn’t exist at The Burrow.

Oliver chuckled. “Oh, I think I do.” Without another word, he practically pulled Percy on top of him and crushed their lips together.

Not sure how to respond, Percy simply let it run its course, gauging the feel of Oliver’s mouth on his. It was different than a kiss with Penelope, whose lips were fuller and far more moist, but Oliver’s were far warmer against Percy’s cool mouth.

And just like that, the kiss was over, and Oliver had returned Percy to his seat, the latter not quite able to breathe normally. He wasn’t sure what to make of what had just happened. He certainly couldn’t think of a point where he’d shown interest in Oliver in that way, but he didn’t hate the idea, either. The kiss was neither offensive nor intrusive; it was overwhelming.

Percy saw that Oliver’s eyes were fixated on the seat opposite them, not meeting his eyes. He was intensely silent, as if he was concentrating on something, and Percy had a good idea what that could have been. “Was it not what you expected, Wood?”

“It was, actually,” Oliver said, still not breaking his blank stare. “I just didn’t want to keep wondering what it would have been like. Now I know.”

“Know what?”

“That I fancy you a bit.”

Startled, Percy asked, “Are you joking?”

Oliver shook his head. “In the past year, I’ve barely known who I am outside of the Quidditch pitch. Not a good thing to joke about, mate.”

“Sorry,” Percy said quickly, still at a loss for anything comforting or relevant to add. He was far beyond his realm of expertise, and all he could think about was why Oliver could possibly want him over other boys their age. And he said so. “Why me?”

“Because you looked,” Oliver said, a glimmer of a smile playing on his lips. “When I saw that it was you instead of Alicia who came into the bath, I knew it was my chance. I wanted to know if you, um, objected to the sight of certain things, if I had a hope or not, so I made you as uncomfortable as possible. I had to know for sure.”

If there was an appropriate response at that juncture, Percy had no clue what it was. He didn’t fancy Oliver, he was sure of that, but he was oddly not averse to the idea of it. He didn’t have any idea whether Oliver wanted him to say anything, or if so what that would have been, so Percy simply sighed and leaned his head back against the wall of the carriage.

The lack of any sign from Percy must have tipped off Oliver that his feelings weren’t returned. He stood and patted Percy on the shoulder. “Sorry I bothered you. I’ll, um, leave you be.”

Just as the door was about to close, Percy said, “Wait.” Oliver turned, seemingly unsure that he’d heard right.

“You don’t have to go. Alicia might still be looking for you.” Percy was annoyed that he couldn’t get himself to say something less impersonal, but he really didn’t want Oliver to leave. Why, he wasn’t certain, but he had the feeling that if Oliver walked out that door at that moment, then they would never see one another again; that bothered Percy.

“Look, Perce, don’t ask me to stay because you feel bad for me.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” And with that, Oliver fell silent and sat back down, only this time opposite Percy. Most of the remaining journey was spent thus, the quiet occasionally broken by stammered discussions of summer plans and future job prospects, but the level of comfort gradually built back to where it was before Oliver’s kiss.

And as the two departed the train for the last time, they walked onto the platform together — perhaps as friends, perhaps as more — but as they were about to part ways, Percy stopped and called to Oliver once more.

“Wood!”

A moment from blending into the crush, Oliver looked over his shoulder. Percy wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to part ways on such an unassuming note. It didn’t seem proper, considering he knew something about Oliver that no one else did.

Again they were face to face, and Percy finally found the words he had been looking for.

“Keep in touch.”