Author's Note: This is some random stuff that I had laying around in connection to Pictures of You. It's two drabbles that I wrote for practice and two outtakes that wouldn't fit into the story. You really have to have read Pictures for most of these to make sense. Oh, and these are self edited, so probably not pretty. Hope you enjoy anyways!

Author's Note: I wrote this using a prompt for 50 Different Friendships or Less Challenge off of Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. This is Percy and Oliver with a tiny bit of Katie. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The world and characters (most of them) belong to JK Rowling. The story title belongs to the Cure. (Go check out the song if you haven't heard it already.)

Prompt: Cry

"Oliver, you are not crying, are you?" Percy demanded as he stood outside the showers in the Quidditch change rooms after the match with Hufflepuff.

Gryffindor had narrowly lost, but it may have put Oliver's goal of winning the Quidditch Cup out of reach. As this was their seventh year, there wouldn't be another chance after this and Oliver was taking it hard. Although, in Percy's opinion, Oliver needed to pull it together as his Seeker was currently in the Hospital Wing having nearly been killed.

Percy strained to hear signs of life from the showers. He could hear the water running and every once in awhile there was the sound of sloshing. He surmised that his friend was still alive at least.

Percy had learned a long time ago not to utter the words it's just a Quidditch in Oliver's presence. Oliver took Quidditch as seriously as…well as Percy took his studies. While Percy had always been interested in the game, he could never quite work up the kind of enthusiasm for it his brothers harbored. But none of them—not even Charlie, the great Quidditch hero—possessed the kind of passion for it that Oliver had.

Oliver's obsession, that's what most people called it. Or they made jokes about it. Even Oliver made light of it, at least in his rare self-reflective moods. And Percy hated that. Percy admired his friend's passion, his drive. It was more than most people would know in their entire lives.

"I'm not crying."

A sopping wet—and thoroughly dejected—Oliver appeared in the door way. He was stripped down to his trousers and boots. Percy rolled his eyes, thinking of how proud Oliver had been of those boots at the start of the year. He was going to spend a fortnight complaining about the ruination of his bloody footwear.

"I'm a real arsehole, aren't I?" Oliver asked.

"No more than usual," Percy answered with an off-handed shrug.

Oliver shoved Percy in the shoulder. It had been meant as an "eff-you and the thestral you rode in on" type of gesture, but Percy still stumbled back several steps before catching his balance. A snort of laughter escaped Oliver.

"Sorry, mate," he said with a barely contained grin. "I forgot what a light weight you were."

Percy made a rude gesture.

"What would Dumbledore say if he knew his Head Boy flipped people off?"

"Since you are mocking me," Percy said, straightening his robes, "I'll assume you will not be committing suicide any time in the near future?"

"Not likely. I mean, the loss to Hufflepuff was tough, yeah. But I was thinking about it in the shower and if Ravenclaw beats Hufflepuff and Slytherin beats Rave—"

"Oliver Wood!"

The strident yell interrupted whatever convoluted Quidditch tirade Oliver was about to embark on. A red and gold fireball charged into the room in the form of little Katie Bell. She stopped short when she came…well, face to chest with Oliver's half-naked form. There was a beat of silence before the little girl looked Oliver in the face and frowned.

"Wood!" she scolded. "You are an arsehole, do you know that? Harry nearly died after that Dementor attack and where is his Captain? Drowning himself in the showers!"

"Oh, I forgot about my being an arsehole," Oliver muttered, going a bit red. "I'm sorry, Bell, I was just going to—"

"Save it, you giant git," she bit off, her ponytail flying with every word. "Get yourself dressed and march right up to that Hospital Wing before I hex you. There are more important things than Quidditch."

Percy stifled a laugh as his friend's mouth dropped open. Oliver's lips were flapping uselessly, giving him the appearance of a landed fish. Katie was still yelling at him, her ponytail still swishing.

"And if you don't visit Harry's bedside in the next twenty minutes," she shouted, "I will make sure you never ride a broom again. Do you hear me, Wood?"

"Um, yes," Oliver muttered, utterly abashed. "I'm sorry, Bell, I really am an arsehole."

Her lips folded into a line. "Well, okay, then." She spun on her heel, gave Percy a curt nod and stomped away.

Oliver was staring after the girl, his mouth hanging open again. Then, "She sounded just like my mum."

Percy burst out laughing. "Are you afraid of a fourteen-year-old girl, Ollie?"

"Shut it, Perce," Oliver growled, sloshing to his locker. "I've seen you cower before Ginny and she's…what, twelve? Girls are bloody scary."

"It's no wonder you don't have a girlfriend."