Business Partners, Part 1/?
Title: Business Partners, 1/?
Author: cuddlebus
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Percy/Oliver
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: DH-compliant
Summary: Due to a leg injury from the war, Oliver Wood is unable to return to the world of professional Quidditch. He is struggling to make ends meet, until his old Hogwarts roommate, Percy Weasley, makes him a business offer he can't refuse.
Author's Notes: I've loved Percy/Oliver since... forever, really, but this is the first time I've written fanfiction in a while, so I'll need some folks to keep me in line! :] Also, this is a brand new journal, so I'm definitely looking for some friends!
Oliver discovered, soon enough, that dreams were for the Hogwarts years and reality was much more... sad. With the world in shambles following the war, professional Quidditch wasn't really an option anymore. Most teams in the league simply... ceased to exist. Not that Oliver would have been able to play, considering a rather nasty hex that struck his right leg at the Battle of Hogwarts had left irreversible damage.
The muscles were twisted and knotted, scarred lumps hiding beneath the skin of his thigh--leaving him with a slight drag when he walked, his right leg scraping the ground just a moment longer than it should have as he took a step. It made staying on a broomstick for any extended period of time very unnecessarily painful, and it made graceful movement all but impossible.
A lifetime of sweat, scrapes, and bruises, obliterated in the time it took a Death Eater to shout an incantation. But these days, Oliver was too tired to be angry.
He simply existed, a jobless ex-Quidditch player with a bum leg. During the day he'd travel to Hogwarts and assist with the clean-up efforts led by Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall. At night he'd return to his flat, eat Muggle take-out food from a joint down the street, and fall asleep on the sofa. He was barely twenty-two years old, and he felt eighty-seven.
Puddlemere United was one of the few Quidditch teams that still existed, but they had let go of all of the reserve players. Oliver was afforded enough severance pay to last a few months on his own. His dwindling finances did not motivate him to job hunt though; it was too soon. He was still processing the deaths. His volunteer work at Hogwarts was grueling, even though it mostly consisted of casting levitation charms to clear dust, rubble, and debris. It wasn't physically demanding; it was emotionally exhausting, and it seemed like every morning was a little more grey than the morning before.
He woke up one morning to find that all the color in the world was gone.
It didn't bother him that much.
Like the last who-knows-how-many days, he took a shower, had a cup of coffee, and apparated to Hogsmeade--where thestral-pulled carriages (the same he rode as a student) were waiting to ferry him and the other volunteers to Hogwarts.
He took a seat in one next to Seamus Finnigan, an old Gryffindor friend. Seamus wore the same shirt every day, a bright-green sweater declaring his devotion to the (now disassembled) Kenmare Kestrals. Normally Oliver would be able to spot the offensively green shirt from kilometers away, but today it was grey.
"I think we're working in the Gryffindor common room today," Seamus commented blandly, looking out in the distance as the carriages rumbled into motion. Oliver watched Seamus watch the scenery roll by, and wondered what the young Irishman was thinking about when his lips curled up into a smile.
He didn't have to wonder long. "Look," Seamus said, pointing out in the distance, "Hippogriffs. They're back."
And they were. Sent by the Ministry, probably, to be cared for by the Care of Magical Creatures classes once Hogwarts reopened (only two shorts months away). They were drinking water from long troughs, relaxed, with their wings folded up against their sides. A herd of Ministry dignitaries in formal-looking robes were off to one side, watching the creatures.
As the carriages rolled ever closer to Hogwarts, Oliver really looked at the school for the first time in a long time. A lot of work had been done, but there was still a lot more to do. In his new grey world, Hogwarts looked bleak and oppressive. A monstrous, black castle puncturing a giant hole in the pale grey sky. He'd never look at Hogwarts the same again, he was sure, but that didn't keep him from wanting to see it restored to its former glory.
"I figure the place will be up and running in no time," Seamus said, pausing to glance once more at the hippogriffs, "Someone's gotta take care of those buggers." Oliver finally obliged to Seamus's dogged persistence to start up a conversation, and the two swapped stories from their old Care of Magical Creatures classes until the carriages came to a halt in front of the main entrance to the school.
Hermione Granger greeted the volunteers as they unloaded from the carriages, waving people to and fro with a flick of her wand. With a sympathetic look at both of them, she directed Oliver and Seamus toward the Gryffindor common room.
"Ministry's here!" she called out as they shuffled through the busy corridor. Seamus shrugged and muttered something along the lines of "Makes no difference to me." Oliver felt the same.
As they walked through the winding corridors and navigated the stairs (which were still, miraculously, in working order), Oliver reparo'd broken picture frames and charred tapestries. He remembered that the color scheme was supposed to become overwhelmingly crimson and gold in this part of the castle... unfortunately, today, it was all alternating shades of dark and light grey.
The portrait guarding the entrance to the common room had been completely obliterated. The splintered frame was barely hanging on its hinges, and the remains of the canvas were singed and torn. Grey.
Seamus delicately crawled past the painting and into the common room, and Oliver followed. A few more filtered in after them, mostly former Gryffindors and their partners or families.
Oliver took in the common room as best as he could; memories of adrenaline-fueled victory parties and late night study sessions rushed back to him in a colorless blur... even his memories were in black-and-white. He chuckled a bit darkly at that, receiving a questioning look from Seamus.
"Can anyone tell me where to find Minerva McGonagall?" a strangely familiar voice called out from behind him, "I urgently need to speak with her."
Oliver turned around, and was shocked by what he saw. A head full of messy, brilliantly red hair, breaking the monotony of the grey, grey, grey all around him.
And attached to that hair...? Well it was his old Hogwarts roommate, Percy Weasley.
Part 2
Author: cuddlebus
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Percy/Oliver
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: DH-compliant
Summary: Due to a leg injury from the war, Oliver Wood is unable to return to the world of professional Quidditch. He is struggling to make ends meet, until his old Hogwarts roommate, Percy Weasley, makes him a business offer he can't refuse.
Author's Notes: I've loved Percy/Oliver since... forever, really, but this is the first time I've written fanfiction in a while, so I'll need some folks to keep me in line! :] Also, this is a brand new journal, so I'm definitely looking for some friends!
Oliver discovered, soon enough, that dreams were for the Hogwarts years and reality was much more... sad. With the world in shambles following the war, professional Quidditch wasn't really an option anymore. Most teams in the league simply... ceased to exist. Not that Oliver would have been able to play, considering a rather nasty hex that struck his right leg at the Battle of Hogwarts had left irreversible damage.
The muscles were twisted and knotted, scarred lumps hiding beneath the skin of his thigh--leaving him with a slight drag when he walked, his right leg scraping the ground just a moment longer than it should have as he took a step. It made staying on a broomstick for any extended period of time very unnecessarily painful, and it made graceful movement all but impossible.
A lifetime of sweat, scrapes, and bruises, obliterated in the time it took a Death Eater to shout an incantation. But these days, Oliver was too tired to be angry.
He simply existed, a jobless ex-Quidditch player with a bum leg. During the day he'd travel to Hogwarts and assist with the clean-up efforts led by Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall. At night he'd return to his flat, eat Muggle take-out food from a joint down the street, and fall asleep on the sofa. He was barely twenty-two years old, and he felt eighty-seven.
Puddlemere United was one of the few Quidditch teams that still existed, but they had let go of all of the reserve players. Oliver was afforded enough severance pay to last a few months on his own. His dwindling finances did not motivate him to job hunt though; it was too soon. He was still processing the deaths. His volunteer work at Hogwarts was grueling, even though it mostly consisted of casting levitation charms to clear dust, rubble, and debris. It wasn't physically demanding; it was emotionally exhausting, and it seemed like every morning was a little more grey than the morning before.
He woke up one morning to find that all the color in the world was gone.
It didn't bother him that much.
Like the last who-knows-how-many days, he took a shower, had a cup of coffee, and apparated to Hogsmeade--where thestral-pulled carriages (the same he rode as a student) were waiting to ferry him and the other volunteers to Hogwarts.
He took a seat in one next to Seamus Finnigan, an old Gryffindor friend. Seamus wore the same shirt every day, a bright-green sweater declaring his devotion to the (now disassembled) Kenmare Kestrals. Normally Oliver would be able to spot the offensively green shirt from kilometers away, but today it was grey.
"I think we're working in the Gryffindor common room today," Seamus commented blandly, looking out in the distance as the carriages rumbled into motion. Oliver watched Seamus watch the scenery roll by, and wondered what the young Irishman was thinking about when his lips curled up into a smile.
He didn't have to wonder long. "Look," Seamus said, pointing out in the distance, "Hippogriffs. They're back."
And they were. Sent by the Ministry, probably, to be cared for by the Care of Magical Creatures classes once Hogwarts reopened (only two shorts months away). They were drinking water from long troughs, relaxed, with their wings folded up against their sides. A herd of Ministry dignitaries in formal-looking robes were off to one side, watching the creatures.
As the carriages rolled ever closer to Hogwarts, Oliver really looked at the school for the first time in a long time. A lot of work had been done, but there was still a lot more to do. In his new grey world, Hogwarts looked bleak and oppressive. A monstrous, black castle puncturing a giant hole in the pale grey sky. He'd never look at Hogwarts the same again, he was sure, but that didn't keep him from wanting to see it restored to its former glory.
"I figure the place will be up and running in no time," Seamus said, pausing to glance once more at the hippogriffs, "Someone's gotta take care of those buggers." Oliver finally obliged to Seamus's dogged persistence to start up a conversation, and the two swapped stories from their old Care of Magical Creatures classes until the carriages came to a halt in front of the main entrance to the school.
Hermione Granger greeted the volunteers as they unloaded from the carriages, waving people to and fro with a flick of her wand. With a sympathetic look at both of them, she directed Oliver and Seamus toward the Gryffindor common room.
"Ministry's here!" she called out as they shuffled through the busy corridor. Seamus shrugged and muttered something along the lines of "Makes no difference to me." Oliver felt the same.
As they walked through the winding corridors and navigated the stairs (which were still, miraculously, in working order), Oliver reparo'd broken picture frames and charred tapestries. He remembered that the color scheme was supposed to become overwhelmingly crimson and gold in this part of the castle... unfortunately, today, it was all alternating shades of dark and light grey.
The portrait guarding the entrance to the common room had been completely obliterated. The splintered frame was barely hanging on its hinges, and the remains of the canvas were singed and torn. Grey.
Seamus delicately crawled past the painting and into the common room, and Oliver followed. A few more filtered in after them, mostly former Gryffindors and their partners or families.
Oliver took in the common room as best as he could; memories of adrenaline-fueled victory parties and late night study sessions rushed back to him in a colorless blur... even his memories were in black-and-white. He chuckled a bit darkly at that, receiving a questioning look from Seamus.
"Can anyone tell me where to find Minerva McGonagall?" a strangely familiar voice called out from behind him, "I urgently need to speak with her."
Oliver turned around, and was shocked by what he saw. A head full of messy, brilliantly red hair, breaking the monotony of the grey, grey, grey all around him.
And attached to that hair...? Well it was his old Hogwarts roommate, Percy Weasley.
Part 2