your dancing is like terrorism (riotact) wrote in weasleys_wood,
your dancing is like terrorism
riotact
weasleys_wood

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Oooh, another one! :D

Title: To Be Alone With You (2/2)
Author: riotact
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Angst/Romance?
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 745
Notes: This is the follow up to No Need To Cry. I felt it was too sad. So I made it happy! :D The title for this chapter is a song by Sufjan Stevens, I'm in love with it.



In the morning it’s nothing but awkward greetings and forced looks. Percy doesn’t look into Oliver’s eyes, when he looks into his face it’s a little to the left. He doesn’t say much, but asks about homework and life, then rushes off to breakfast.

Oliver sits on his bed, his head in his hands, and he tries not to cry. The Gryffindor Quidditch Captain can’t cry over a boy, not even a girl. He can’t cry period, and yet Oliver wants to. And he does.

It’s a low sound, the saddest sound he’s ever made. The tears trickle down his face slowly, not more then 6 tears have fallen before he stops. But it’s still the most he’s cried since he was a young boy. He feels weak and ashamed that he could let Percy get to him like this. Because he doesn’t love him, he refuses too. He can’t love a boy, he can’t.

He composes himself and follows Percy’s steps, slowly and carefully. When he walks into the Common Room he smiles. A fake smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but you believe it because he’s so damn good at it. A multitude of people walk up to him, mainly the Quidditch team and random girls who are infatuated with him. Every girl he sees he wishes it were Percy, because Percy’s the only one who’s worth it. Worth words, worth time, worth pain and everything he’s wiling to give.

He walks out of the common room and down to breakfast, the day is just as any other day. When he’s in class he looks at Percy, when he’s in the halls he looks for Percy. Everything he does involves some thought about Percy.

And it kills him. Kills him that he doesn’t have any control over himself, that he can’t stop this. Stop it like he does the quaffle. It’s an awkward feeling, not being in control of the situation or himself. He hates it but loves it at the same time.

When he lays down to sleep he looks in the direction of Percy’s bed and he wishes he were there, holding him. He wants Percy, the strongest urge he’s ever felt, and he wants Percy to want him back. Not physically, but the way he wants Percy.

Which is different.

But he doesn’t love Percy. He can’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t want too. He does. And now he knows, knows that he loves Percy, and he accepts it. Because he can’t fight it anymore. Because he loves him more then anything, more then Quidditch, more then flying. But Percy doesn’t love him, and he knows it.

He falls asleep knowing it, and wakes up knowing it. And when Percy leaves, he cries again, more then last time. He cries so much he misses breakfast, and first class, and second class. He cries so much he misses the whole damn day.

When Percy comes in, he leaves. Hides his face as well as he can manage and runs, runs anywhere runs away. It’s a while before he realizes he’s run to the Quidditch Pitch, and he feels better. Because here, here he’s in control and he knows what to do.

He sits in the middle of the pitch, thinking. Thinking about anything that crosses his mind. He thinks for so long and so hard that he doesn’t notice when a body moves through the moonlight toward him. A small body, smaller than his own, a body he knows well.

Percy places a tiny, pale hand on Oliver’s shoulder, pulling Oliver out of his trance of words and imagery, thoughts he can’t comprehend.

“Oliver.” Percy says barely above a whisper. Oliver doesn’t say anything, he can’t, his voice is caught in his throat. He’s afraid he might tell him, tell him everything and he doesn’t want too. Because for the first time in ages, he’s scared.

Percy repeats him name, and it’s music to Oliver’s ears. He can feel the fear in the pit of his stomach, cold and cruel.

Then Percy says the words he wants to hear, and the fear is gone. It’s been replaced with something else; he doesn’t know what, he’s not sure he ever will. But he knows that Percy said what he wanted to hear, and that’s all that matters. Because Oliver loves him too, loves him more then anything. More then Quidditch, more then flying, more then life itself. Because Percy is worth it.

***

It's un-beta'd. My beta has disappeared on me. Hm. I hope she comes back soon. XD

But I hope you liked it unbeta'd or not. :D

And now sleep.
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