First real attempt at Percy/Oliver. My submission for Round 2 of the Diversity Competition.

Percy weaves his way through the crowded common room, not really taking in what is happening. He knows he should be discouraging the ruckus that only a Quidditch win could inspire, but he can be Head Boy tomorrow. Tonight he wants to be another student; another face in the crowd who doesn't need to worry about where that firewhiskey came from. Besides, everyone knows it came from the twins. He resists the urge to have some himself and looks for a place to stand away from the rest of his fellow Gryffindors. The room is alight with excitement and red and gold colors. The students are on an emotional high and the Quidditch team is practically being worshipped in the middle of it all. He wishes he could enjoy this kind of thing.

He manages to make his way to the fireplace and leans against the mantelpiece, surveying the crowd, looking for a certain someone. The guilt washes over him because he knows he shouldn't be looking for anyone. The only person he should want to see is in Ravenclaw tower, or maybe patrolling the hallways like a good Head Girl should. He shakes his head in frustration.

He is responsible in every way imaginable. He prides himself on always being in command of the situation, of knowing what's best, of knowing more than everyone else.

Except when Oliver Wood is in the room.

Because the heart does not know the meaning of the word responsibility. The heart does not look out for anyone's best interests. It only seeks to reveal itself when it's too late. He repeats it as if to convince himself. It's too late.

And then he meets Oliver's eyes from across the room and he knows it doesn't have to be. He doesn't want it to be. He can't take the noise anymore and he disappears up the staircase to the seventh year boys' dorm.

He pulls out some schoolwork because that's what Percy does. He works to take his mind off of these pesky emotions because nothing is as important as succeeding; even his happiness. He hears the door open behind him and he does his best to ignore it. He doesn't have to turn around to know it's Oliver. He dips his quill in the ink and continues to scribble away.

Oliver shuffles around behind him, and he knows he should at least say something. He racks his brain for something casual but all that he can come up with is "Congratulations."

Oliver approaches him to look over his shoulder. "Thanks." He reaches out and touches Percy on the arm. "You all right, mate?"

Percy swallows, trying to decide what he hates more, lying or losing face. He decides lying is less humiliating. "I'm fine." Fine. Everything is certainly not fine. Fine is a word people use when they don't want to say everything is horrible, painful, shitty. No. Everything is not fine.

He is scribbling nonsense now just for the sake of giving his hands something to do. Oliver moves away to change out of his Quidditch robes. "Liar."

The word causes Percy's quill to freeze over the parchment. It's just like Oliver to call him out. He puts it down and rests his face in his hands. There's nothing for it but to admit defeat.

Oliver finishes changing and sits down on the bed a few feet away from where Percy is. "Is it your schoolwork?"

Percy chuckles and shakes his head. Oliver knows it isn't schoolwork that's bothering him. He's just giving him an opportunity to take the easy way out.

And Percy loves him for it.

He can't take the easy way out. It's not his nature, or Oliver's nature for that matter. The tension has been building all school year and neither of them can take it another night. Oliver takes a deep breath. "Is it Penelope?"

Percy nods his head solemnly. "Yes."

Oliver waits for him to elaborate but to no avail. He probes further. "Did you fight?"

"I wish we would fight. I wish there was a good reason for why I don't want to be with her anymore. I want it to be her fault, but it's not."

Oliver smiles sympathetically and it makes Percy's heart ache even more. "What's the problem, then?"

Percy thinks about it a moment. How to say it? He looks about the room, searching for answers. The four-poster beds, the Puddlemere United posters, the piles of books, all yield nothing. The only answer he can find is in Oliver's face. And when he says it, he realizes just how simple it is. "She isn't you."

The next moment Oliver is leaning over him and Percy puts a gentle but restraining hand on his shoulder. His only response is to whisper in his ear, "She isn't here," before crushing his lips to his.

And in that moment, no matter how wrong he knows it is, Percy can't deny his logic.