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infinitelycynical · 3 years

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mirror [perciver]

AUTHOR’S NOTES :

Hello everyone! I’ve had this one in my drafts probably just as long as the Charlie oneshot, but I was unmotivated to type it due to just how massive it is! This was actually requested by @mavkasilas who requested a fluffy oneshot. I am so sorry it took so long, I hope this is up to your standards and that you’ll enjoy this! Thank you so much for requesting this!

To anyone else who wants to request things, drop it in my inbox anytime. Soon, I’ll also add an official thing where I say which ships I will do and which ones I won’t and such. Cheers!

The mirror of Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley’s bathroom at Hogwarts had seen many things, too many for it to not be amusing. If it were animate, it would have made a running commentary about one of the two boys in particular, a certain Oliver Wood. This was not due to his looks, no matter how handsome he may have been, nor was this about his bathroom habits, though they were cluttered and chaotic. No, this was about his many ramblings, his many monologues that even Shakespeare himself would find entertainment in.

The first time was in the winter of 1989, Oliver’s third year. The snow fell with grace, each snowflake being admired by those who watched bundled up in warm clothes from closed windows. Children threw snowballs at one another, their merry laughter ringing through the atmosphere. The sky was the palest shade of white and the grey clouds hung low in the frosty air.

Oliver Wood had not been one of those people. No, in that moment, he wore no shirt and he shivered in front of the mirror. His hands clutched the counter beneath him with a deathly strong grip, his knuckles paling at the action. His entire face was flushed, both from the cold and his own feelings.

“Why am I so angry? I should be happy! Happy thoughts, Oliver, happy thoughts. Percy is your friend, yes, of course he is, he’s your best friend! But you’re angry that he called you one? What kind of idiot are you?” Oliver groaned, leaning forward and spreading his arms across the marble counter.

His head hung low, attempting to process everything racing inside his head.

“I don’t like it when he calls me his friend, why? Because I don’t want to be his friend! No, I wanna be close still but not friend close. Mirror, do you know what I mean?”

Of course it didn’t, after all, its abilities didn’t extend far beyond showing the reflection of whatever stood in front of it. Oliver sighed, releasing his right hand from the murderous clutch and using it to let the mirror hold some of his weight instead.

“Great, you don’t talk.” Oliver scoffed, “Aren’t you helpful?”

He removed the hand from the mirror and ran it through his hair. He tugged at the roots lightly, just enough for him to feel a jolt of discomfort.

“I don’t want to be his friend, but I don’t want him to be without me. I don’t want him to stay but I don’t want him to leave, either. Merlin, I wish there was a manual on this stuff. ‘Confusion Through the Ages’ would be a bestseller, I’m sure.” He snickered cynically, frustrated at himself, “What am I thinking? He’s my best friend! We share a dorm together, we get along real swell, he’s real bonnie too, especially the blue eyes and freckles, really smart too. The only person I would ever blush at if I was caught in a- oh.”

This seemed to be the moment of realisation for Oliver, who lowered his right hand to the counter once more. The noise reverberated throughout the entire room, though Oliver couldn’t care less if he tried. Percy was away for Christmas; it wasn’t as though he would hear anything.

“I have a crush on him. On Percy, my best mate Percy. My best friend who likes following the rules because they were ‘implemented for a reason’, who actually likes doing homework, who’s taking 12 classes because ‘if Bill can do it, I can too’. He folds all of his socks for Merlin’s sake!

Oliver exhaled long and deep after that brief rant. He tilted his head up to search his reflection in the mirror for a sign, any sign. A cue or signal that he wasn’t as far in as he thought he was. Seconds passed, there were none. He then hung his head.

“I’m a lost cause.”

The autumn of 1991 was another significant season. It was barely the beginning of September yet there were already teenagers creating piles of leaves to jump in and crush. This year, autumn had come earlier than usual. The leaves were already being painted in a variety of nature’s best colours by the influence of the season. The windy days seemed even more frequent than they were last year, though the rain was behaving itself slightly more so than usual. Many had taken the time out of their busy schedules to appreciate the wonderful scenery.

Oliver Wood, however, did not happen to be one of those students.

“Ugh!”

He slammed the door, creating a loud bang that Percy would’ve scolded him for it he was there to hear it. He wasn’t angry, just humiliated. Humiliated at himself for failing as terribly as he did.

“Can’t believe I just did that, I’m a fucking idiot.” He moaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I was meant to tell him, today! Not do whatever the bloody hell this was.”

Oliver paced in the bathroom up and down, not daring to glance at himself in the mirror. His eyes were fixated onto whatever was in front of him, which prominently featured the door and the shower; along with the blur one saw when spinning quickly.

“So I told him that I had a crush on someone, and naturally, he asks who it is. Instead of saying it was him, like I probably should have, I tell him to guess. Guessing never ends well, everyone knows that. And by ‘well’, I mean snogging in a broom closet with the person you have a crush on kind of well.”

Oliver sighed. This wasn’t getting any easier to speak about. If the mirror was animate, it would’ve stifled giggles at the sight before it. Oliver’s humiliation was indeed very amusing, and it was a genuine travesty that no one was there to witness it.

“Then, he starts guessing. I provide my hints. Really smart, blue eyes, bonnie. And get this! Get this! He guesses himself, correctly may I add, and I tell him he’s wrong. Now, I apparently have a crush on Miss Penelope Clearwater! I would be one unfortunate soul if I actually had a crush on her, seeing as I caught her kissing one of the fifth-year female prefects just last week!” he huffed, finally stilling to catch his breath.

“I was meant to tell him I had had feelings for him, not that I didn’t! I’m an idiot. I’ll have to try again next year, waiting just long enough for my ‘crush’ on Clearwater to fade.” Oliver sighed, approaching the mirror and placing his palms flat against it in defeat.

He did not end up asking Percy out in the year of 1992. Nor in 1993. It was the spring of 1994; Oliver’s seventh year was coming to a close quicker than he would like to ponder upon. Exams were creeping upon him with a speed he didn’t realise they were capable of, and the time before the last Quidditch match seemed to halve by the hour. The flowers were as vibrant as ever and the green leaves of the tall trees in the Forbidden Forest and in the courtyard glowed under the attention of the rare Scottish sun. However, most days, the clouds hung over the castle ominously. Rain created puddles in dips of the concrete. Dementors guarded any outside happiness students may have been able to acquire. Hogwarts was no longer as safe as it once may have been, but it was still home.

A freshly showered Oliver Wood stood in front of the mirror. His hair was peeled to his forehead or to other parts of his head, it was soaked. Water dripped from the strands of hair onto the floor, though he didn’t care to notice it. His eyes were fixated onto his own reflection, as if looking for what may be out of place. He was focused, creating a plan the way he revised Quidditch strategies.

“I have to do it today at the party. He’ll be there, to supervise even though he hates parties. He’ll be sober, he’ll be there, it’s going to be perfect. I have to ask him out now, or it’ll never happen.” Oliver rambled, his hands animatedly gesturing in an attempt to prove a point.

“Alright, so, at the party. I’ll… ask him to dance! Yeah, I’ll do that. Then we slow dance, I confess, we kiss, I ask him out, he says yes, everything is perfect! But what if he rejects me… what will I do then?”

Oliver moaned and shook his head. He ran a hand through his hair and it lingered there, dragging against his scalp before coming to a halt all together.

“I’ll just… focus on Quidditch! Yes, that’s a great idea. I’ll just focus on that. Only spend time with the team, come back to the dorm late, try not to cry, alright! I have a plan; I have a plan.” He breathed deeply through his mouth languidly.

“But he won’t reject me, right Mirror? I think he’ll say yes, actually. I know he’s into Quidditch players and strong guys with a lot of sweetness. I happen to think of myself as both things, I just hope he’ll say yes!”

Oliver grinned widely from ear to ear, eyes shining with hope.

“I hope he says yes.”

The pre-finals party in the Gryffindor common room was the busiest party of the year apart from the post-final party that would be happening if they won, and Oliver would make the most of it. The chasers on the team had truly gone above and beyond with the décor, food, atmosphere and music of the party. The twin beaters had brought enough alcohol for the next party, guaranteeing that everyone in that room would be staying in there from sunset to sunrise.

Sweaty bodies entangled in one another’s embrace on the dance floor where an American pop single blared from the boombox on top of the fireplace. Oliver held a cup of firewhiskey in his hand, searching for Percy nervously. He soon found Percy’s fiery curls amongst the bustling students. He sat alone at a table in the back corner of the room, nursing what seemed to be a glass of water grumpily.

“Hey Perce, back corner working out for you?”

Percy sighed wistfully, taking a sip of water before speaking.

“So many rules have been broken, too many to count. There are fourth years here, drinking alcohol and partying, I’m willing to wager that some of them aren’t even 15 yet! There are reasons why the law is in place, and those reasons happen to be very valid!” Percy huffed.

Oliver placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed sympathetically. His heart was racing wildly and adrenaline rushed through his veins. His cheeks were pink from the crowded atmosphere and the heat engulfing the room. This was it; he was going to do it now.

“So, uh…” he trailed off.

“Uh…?” Percy continued, gesturing to Oliver to spit it out.

“Do you- uh… want to dance? With me? On the dance floor?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and let out a small laugh.

Percy blinked at him in confusion, tilting his head as if attempting to read him. Oliver shifted from foot to foot, what if Percy said no? He’d need a whole different plan; Oliver didn’t think he’d be able to survive without Percy at least knowing of and acknowledging his feelings. Besides, Percy didn’t like dancing, or singing, or anything remotely embarrassing really.

“Sure, I’d like to.” Percy accepted with a small smile, standing from his seat and making sure to push his chair in behind him.

Oliver grinned, offering his hand to him. Percy took the hand in his, his smile widening discreetly once they touched. Oliver’s heart pounded in his chest, booming in time to the music blaring in the common room. He led Percy onto the dance floor and released his hand reluctantly.

“What- what do I do?” Percy questioned him, staring at the other dancers with some apprehension.

“Just mirror me, you’ll be alright. And try to relax. If you’re too stiff, you’ll look like you’re on the edge of collapse.”

If it weren’t for the red-coloured lights that hung above them, Oliver would have seen Percy’s pink cheeks and flaming red ears. If it weren’t for the blaring music, he would have been able to hear the deep breathing he attempted to soothe his heart with. However, Oliver remained oblivious to Percy’s plight and remained immersed in his own instead.

He swayed to the slower, sexier song that played, his hips shaking from side to side and his shoulders bouncing to the beat. Percy copied him, or at least, attempted to. He was far too stiff, his shoulders squared and his back straight. Oliver moved closer to Percy, his hands directing themselves to his shoulders.

“Come on Perce, you have to relax a bit.” Oliver soothed.

Oliver’s hands moved to Percy’s lower back, pulling him in even closer. Percy made a strangled noise of surprise and placed his own arms around Oliver’s neck. The two swayed in time to the seductive lyrics, Percy relaxing more and more after each individual line. Oliver couldn’t help but smile.

“That better?”

Percy nodded and stepped a single step closer, his face now mere inches apart from Oliver’s own. Oliver’s cheeks reddened and his eyes darkened.

“Perce…” he began roughly, leaning in to touch Percy’s forehead with his own.

Percy’s breath hitched at the touch. For Oliver, this was it. The next phase of the plan. The kiss. Oliver inhaled deeply, just about to pull him closer, flush against him, when Percy suddenly pushed him away.

“Can we talk? Outside of here, I mean. Somewhere quieter.” Percy speaks loudly over the music, though the volume didn’t help to hide his nerves.

A disappointed Oliver nodded, stepping back as though he had been burned. What could Percy possibly want to talk about? He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he obediently followed Percy away from the wild party behind them and to a cold corridor not far from the Gryffindor common room. Oliver shuddered, hunching his shoulders and wrapping his arms around himself. The bitter wind hit the place only slightly, though it was enough to nearly freeze the two.

“Sorry, didn’t mean for it to be so cold.” Percy uttered, casting a warming charm over the both of them.

Oliver shook his head in forgiveness, all he was concerned about was Percy. What did he need to talk about? Now that they were in a better light, Oliver noticed that Percy’s ears and cheeks were burning and that his eyes were downcast. He tried to shove his concern for his friend down, though it couldn’t help but stick.

“Perce? What happened?”

Percy sighed, lifting his trembling hands, trying to explain what he was feeling without words. Oliver held onto his hands, clasping them inside his own for warmth.

“Perce?”

“I have feelings, okay! Feelings!” He exclaimed frantically.

Oliver frowned in confusion, massaging Percy’s hands with his thumb.

“I know you do, Perce. Of course you do. You’re human, we all have feelings.”

Percy huffed in frustration, crossing his arms in annoyance.

“No, no, no! Not general feelings, feelings-feelings! For you. I always have…”

Feelings-feelings. For him. Percy Weasley, who was flawless, having feelings for Oliver Wood? Oliver’s eyes widened and a hint of a smile appeared on his face. He had hoped for this for so long, had wanted this for longer than he would ever know.

“Romantic feelings?” Oliver questioned with a strong Scottish accent, causing Percy’s breath to hitch.

“Yes! Yes.”

In the moonlight, the two boys shared relieved expressions, inching closer with every breath. Some sharp inhales and long exhales later, and the two finally came together, just as they were always meant to be.

#perciver #oliver wood #percy weasley #percy weasley my beloved #perciver fanfic #hp fanfic #fluff for once #yippee yay

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