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The Weight of Living	By : percyplusoliver Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Percy/Oliver Views: 4738 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This can also be found at AO3. I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters. I am not making any money from this story. I just do this for kicks :) Note: This begins around HBP-era

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
A memo dropped onto Oliver’s desk. He unfolded it, slowly this time, not wanting to get his hopes up.
Dear Mr Wood,
I am writing to inform you that you have been called to testify on matters of your lineage as well as your connections to Undesireable Number 1. Your hearing has been scheduled for 11 November, 1997, at 9am in Courtroom Ten. Please be punctual.
Best wishes,
Percy I. Weasley
Assistant to the Minister
What? Oliver could hardly believe his eyes. Both of his parents were wizards, as were all of the rest of his relatives, as far as he knew. Before he had another minute to be shocked, a second memo was on his desk. He unfolded it angrily.
Pub where we first met. 7 tonight.
P
Percy had to explain this to him, Oliver thought, incensed. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 2:30. How could he wait another four and a half hours for an explanation? He wanted to storm Percy’s office and demand to know what he meant by the memo, but knowing Percy, he wouldn’t get anywhere doing that. He would be frozen out, and perhaps Percy would go back on his invitation. Oliver didn’t want that at all. So he waited.
When the clock struck six, Oliver rushed out of the department, wanting to get home to clean himself up before meeting Percy. He knew it sounded pathetic, but he wanted to look sharp, to show Percy what he was missing out on, when he saw his ex-boyfriend again. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and put on fresh deodorant and cologne, the kind Percy had given him for his birthday. There, he thought with a satisfied smile before he Apparated to the alley behind the pub. That should do it.
When Oliver arrived, Percy was already sitting in the dank pub, a half-empty mug sitting on the counter in front of him. He looked miserable. Oliver wanted to run to him and hold him tight, stroke his wavy hair and tell him everything would be okay. He restrained himself, choosing instead to walk purposefully toward Percy and sit down on the stool next to him.
“Hullo,” Oliver said, not looking at Percy.
“Oliver,” Percy said dully, his eyes fixed on his mug.
“You wanted to see me?”
Desperately, Percy thought. For months. But he couldn’t say that. “It’s about - “ he looked around the room furtively, checking for possible Ministry plants ‘ - your hearing.”
Oliver waited.
“I tried as hard as I could to get that horrible woman not to bring you in for a hearing,” Percy started, keeping his gaze on his beer, “but she insisted.” He left out the part about nearly crying when he saw Oliver’s file, or that he would have gladly lied to keep Oliver out of the courtroom. “She’ll want to ask you about your family, as far back as you know, and about your relationship with Harry Potter.” His ears were turning red, which meant his cheeks weren’t far behind. His whole body felt hot, as if he would burst into flames at any second.
“Why?” Oliver demanded. “Why me? Why now?”
Percy shook his head. “I wish I knew,” he answered apologetically. “I tried. I really did.” He paused. Should I tell him that that’s why I cancelled? he wondered. Might as well. “That’s why I had to cancel our...meeting,” he added lamely, almost saying date but deciding against it at the last second. “I wanted to make sure there were absolutely no mistakes in your file.” I don’t want you to be sent to Azkaban, he added silently.
Oliver was taken aback. Here was Percy, his ex, taking extra time to protect his freedom, his life...and what was Oliver doing? Snapping at him. He felt rotten. “What can I do?” he asked hopefully.
“Not much,” replied Percy honestly. “At least not much that’s legal.” He looked up from his mug for the first time, seeing the fear in Oliver’s face. He wanted to take Oliver in his arms, to comfort him, kiss his forehead, promise Oliver that he would take care of him...but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t do that anymore. “The way I see it, you have two options. The first one is, you can show up tomorrow to your hearing, armed with all of the information about your family that I’ve given Umbridge. I brought you a copy of your file.” Percy pulled it out of his briefcase and handed it to Oliver. “And you can tell that horrible woman all you know about Harry, which, I assume, is nothing.”
Oliver nodded, taking the file wordlessly. He studied it for a moment, reading the notes written in Percy’s neat hand. Next to his maternal grandmother: clerical error; s. archive cab. 746, folder 12, pg. 59. Next to his paternal grandfather: Broomstix orig. owner. s. Diagon Alley archive. “And the second option?” he asked, nervous.
“Run,” Percy whispered. “Leave London and don’t look back.” He both wanted and didn’t want Oliver to run. He wanted him to stay alive, but he wanted Oliver to stay with him.
Oliver thought about Percy’s proposal for a moment. Where would he go? He couldn’t go to his parents’ house; that would be the first place they looked. Besides, he didn’t want to endanger his family. He had nowhere else to go. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to give in to these reprehensible people.”
Percy looked pained. “You don’t understand the gravity of the situation, Oliver,” he said. “If – no, when – they find you guilty, they will sentence you to Azkaban. For life.” He paused. “No one has been found innocent yet, and there have been dozens of trials every day for the last four months.” He felt tears beginning to form in his eyes and he looked back at his mug. He couldn’t let Oliver see him cry. Oliver couldn’t know how strongly Percy still felt about him.
Oliver absolutely hadn’t understood the gravity of the situation. Azkaban? Shit, he thought. Maybe Percy was right; he had to run. He had to leave London and never come back. But what about Percy? What would Percy do? If the Ministry was coming for him, they would surely come for Percy. Percy was a bloody Weasley; his family was the biggest bunch of “blood traitors”, as the Death Eaters called them, there ever had been. “Will you come with me?” Oliver asked tentatively. “I don’t want to go alone.” I’m frightened, he thought.
Percy shook his head sadly. “I can’t,” he replied. “If I disappear on the day of your hearing, they might think I tipped you off.”
“Who cares?” Oliver shot back. “We’ll be gone! Far away from those bastards and their racist regulations; they can’t do anything to us...I mean, to you.”
Percy thought about it for a moment. Oliver was right, he knew, but he just couldn’t. He could do more good – or attempt to, at least – at the Ministry. Tears welling in his eyes, Percy shook his head. “I can’t,” he repeated. “I wish I could. I want to.” He paused. “But...I have something for you.” He pulled what looked like a ratty button from his trouser pocket and handed it to Oliver. Oliver turned it over in his hands.
“What is this?” Oliver asked, frowning.
“I have another one,” Percy said, pulling out a matching button and making a fist around it. At once, Oliver’s button glowed blue. “It changes colours depending on your...feelings, I suppose. I got the idea from one of my father’s ridiculous Muggle toys.” He paused. “Red for angry, blue for sad, yellow for happy, and black for in trouble. If you’re ever in trouble...” Percy trailed off. How could he finish his sentence? I’ll be there before you can say Knut? he thought.
Percy didn’t have to finish, because Oliver’s face lit up. “You’re so brilliant, Perce,” he said warmly. “I’d’ve never thought of something like this.” He looked at the button. It was still glowing blue. Wait, blue meant sad. Was Percy...sad...that Oliver had to leave? Was Percy actually going to miss him? He looked over at Percy and saw his eyes filling with tears. Fuck it, Oliver thought, and put his arm around Percy’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, Perce,” he said quietly. “I’m going to be fine. I always am.” He rubbed Percy’s back in an attempt to calm him.
Oliver’s touch was electric. Merlin, Percy had missed this. His heart jumped in his chest and he leaned into Oliver’s hand, feeling immediately at home with Oliver’s arm around him. “I don’t want to let you go,” Percy whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”
What was that? Percy had missed him? Oliver was beyond shocked. He had thought it was one-sided, that Percy was over him, that Oliver had to move on...but here he was, sitting in the same Muggle dive where they had reconnected so many months ago, hearing that Percy missed him. “I’ve missed you, too,” Oliver said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was my fault,” Percy said. “You were right. I was horrible and selfish and should have spent more time with you. Now I have to let you go-ho-ho-ho and I don’t wa-ha-ha-hant to.” By now Percy was crying and he couldn’t speak properly. He didn’t care that the few other bar patrons were looking over at them. What did it matter? He wouldn’t see them again – or, most likely, Oliver, he thought, which set him off on a fresh round of tears.
“Perce,” Oliver said calmly. “Let’s leave this place and go somewhere quiet. I don’t want what might be the last time we see each other to be miserable.” Percy nodded through his tears. Oliver paid for Percy’s drink and they left the bar, walking around the corner to the alley before Apparating to Oliver’s flat, which, as usual these days, was an absolute disaster area.
“Merlin’s pants, Oliver,” Percy sniffled. “How do you find anything in here?”
“I don’t,” Oliver admitted. “I only kept it clean because you were here all the time.” And I would do anything for you, he thought.
Percy rolled his eyes and, with a flick of his wand, things began flying onto their shelves and into their drawers. “See how easy that is?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Oliver gestured to the couch, the place they had sat the last time they had spoken. “Tea?” Percy nodded mutely and sunk onto the couch, remembering the vitriol he had spewed from this position. He was embarrassed and ashamed. Oliver had deserved much better than him...but Oliver still wanted him. He wasn’t worthy of Oliver’s forgiveness. He had acted like a complete prat. Oliver returned with the tea and set a mug – the mug Percy had always used – in front of him and sat down to Percy’s right.
“Listen,” Oliver started, “I don’t want to get into whose fault it was or who should be sorrier. Let’s just agree, we were both knobheads and move on, okay?” He smiled and pulled Percy close, kissing him on the cheek. “Besides, I want to spend tonight with you.” In case I don’t have another chance, Oliver thought, terrified of what his future might bring. He had already heard horror stories of actual Muggle-borns on the run: some had been caught by Death Eaters and killed immediately; some had been intercepted by Snatchers and taken to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; still more were missing, presumed dead. He didn’t want to be counted in any of those groups. He wanted to remain alive; to stay with Percy; to stay here in London, on his couch, with his favourite person, forever and ever.
Percy smiled. “Okay, knobhead,” he said, laughing a bit. “I can deal with that.” He allowed Oliver to pull him in, enjoying both the feeling of Oliver’s arm around his shoulders and Oliver’s lips on his face, which was starting to get hot. “I’ve missed this,” he sighed. “I’ve missed you.” He turned his head so he was facing Oliver. Gods, he was beautiful. His perfectly sculpted face, those deep blue eyes, the slight amount of stubble covering his square jaw… what would Percy do if he lost this? You already have, he reminded himself sternly. Don’t pretend you have him back just because he kissed you on the couch.
“Me too,” Oliver said. “I’ve missed you too. But we’re here now. We only have one night. Let’s enjoy it while we can, shall we?” There was a familiar twinkle in Oliver’s eye, and Percy grinned. “Once or twice,” Percy agreed. “But then...then I just want you to hold me.” He leaned into Oliver’s embrace, feeling his heart begin to beat faster and his breath catch in his throat.
“Let’s make the most of our night, then,” Oliver said seductively, planting a light kiss on Percy’s neck. “Come to bed, my love. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”
***
Percy woke up in the middle of the night covered in sweat. He was cradled in Oliver’s muscular arms, and they both were covered by a heavy down duvet. Without removing himself from Oliver’s grasp, he pushed the duvet away and snuggled closer to Oliver. This was perfect. He wished he could stay like this forever, just cuddling with Oliver in his bed. He felt safe; the outside world with all of its threats and danger was a million miles away, and the only thing that mattered was Oliver. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
Several hours later, the sun was streaming through the windows. Oliver woke first and looked at the clock. 7:15. He shook Percy awake. “Perce,” he said gently. “You have to get up. You have to go to work.”
“Mmmmmph,” Percy groaned. “Don’t wanna.”
Oliver smiled. “But you have to, remember? They can’t know that you told me.”
Suddenly Percy remembered. He was in Oliver’s bed, for the first time in months. Oliver had his hearing today, but he wasn’t going – he was escaping. “Here,” Percy said suddenly, holding his hand out. “Give me the buttons. And my wand.” Oliver obeyed, watching Percy with interest. Percy whispered a quick spell and looked satisfied with himself. “There,” he said. “Now when I miss you - “ or you miss me, he thought “ - it will glow purple. That way you’ll know someone is always thinking of you.”
Oliver gave Percy a huge smile and a passionate kiss. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said happily. A second passed, and then he said, a sad tinge to his voice, “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”
“But you have to, remember?” Percy said, repeating Oliver’s sentence. “I don’t want you to go to Azkaban. I don’t want you to die. I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”
Oliver sighed. He knew Percy was right; he always was.
“Pack your things,” Percy commanded. “Only the most important things – your wand, warm clothing, and food. While you’re packing, I’ll shower and dress for work.”
Oliver gathered supplies quickly, packing them in an old Puddlemere duffel. He emptied his cupboards, and then realised that was a bad idea; Ministry officials would likely come to his flat looking for him when he didn’t show up for the hearing. It would be best if he only took a few things, instead of making it look like he was on the run. He packed old clothing, leaving his day-to-day outfits in the closet. Finally, he pocketed the ratty button. He felt warm all over just knowing it was there. When he was finished, he sat on the edge of his unmade bed, waiting for Percy to come out of the bathroom. I might as well mess the flat up again, he thought. Make it look as though there was a struggle. He started pulling things off shelves and knocking furniture over in the living room.
Percy heard the commotion and ran out of the bathroom. “What in the name of Merlin’s saggy pants are you doing?” he asked.
“Making it look like I was kidnapped,” Oliver said shortly. “Might as well make it convincing.” Percy nodded. It was a clever idea. He looked at his watch. 7:55. He’d be late to work, but today it didn’t matter. If he could spend a few extra minutes with Oliver, that was all he cared about. “You need to get going, don’t you?” Oliver asked. “You don’t want to look suspicious.”
Percy knew he was right, but he also wanted to spend his last few minutes with Oliver. “Goodbye, my love,” he said quietly. “I’ll always be with you.” He held Oliver tightly for several minutes, which both felt like an eternity and only seconds before Oliver pulled away. “Go,” Oliver said. “They can’t know that you told me anything.” He kissed Percy passionately and then Disapparated, leaving Percy standing alone in Oliver’s flat, eyes overflowing with tears.
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The Weight of Living