1x1 with Grune

[Consulting_Angel]

Hogwarts, 1991... Harry Potter has just arrived at Hogwarts for the first time... but our attention won't be with The Boy Who Lived. While the events of the Philosopher's Stone kicks off in the background, two well-known, fifth-year Gryffindors begin to make an impact on each other for the first time. And it all started out with an argument. With the pressure of O.W.L.s on them, along with stresses from family or Quidditch, and the desire to excel, Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood find themselves being drawn together in perhaps a rather unusual turn of events. But what will come of these two stubborn, secretive Gryffindors? More about them, it seems, will be unveiled than they have previously allowed themselves to talk about.

(Please do not post here unless you are either myself (Consulting_Angel) or Grune! Feel free to read along, if you wish to, though! Thank you!

[Consulting_Angel]

Oliver Wood woke up one early September Saturday morning, at first incredibly tired, but then - like a spark - he was wide awake. Today was the day of the first Quidditch training session that he had booked. He still needed to find a Seeker for the team, after Charlie Weasley had now left, but he was confident that they'd find one soon. For now, though, he was going to unveil his plans to the rest of the team that he had. Being newly-appointed as Quidditch Captain, he was determined for Gryffindor to win the Quidditch Cup this year, and the next two years that he was going to be at Hogwarts. Everything had to be right. They had to win.
After getting himself ready in almost record time, Oliver gathered up a large board of Quidditch plans that he'd worked on, and a stand for the board. "Hurry up, Weasleys," Oliver called, as he passed the dormitory that the Gryffindor Beaters - Fred and George Weasley - were in, then he walked down to the common room, and out of the portrait door. He walked briskly, with purpose, and he was not about to let anyone get in his way... not that there was anyone to get in his way this morning. He might miss breakfast, but he figured that it would be okay - he'd just get a little bit extra at lunch or something instead.
He stepped into the changing rooms, setting his board and stand up just in front one of the benches. Now he just had to wait for his teammates...

[Grune]

Percy awoke angrily.

This was not a rare circumstance for the freckled boy, but it certainly an unexpected one on this particular morning. He thought that this year would be the year that he'd reap his own rewards and be able to ignore Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. He'd worked endlessly to be Prefect - it was something to set him apart from all of the other Gryffindor students, and it came with several perks. One of them, he assumed, was a break from Fred and George. He was wrong.

Two voices echoed through the dormitory, singing a racous tune of "Hear, Hear, dear Gryffindor, our love of Quidditch be." Percy knew it to be some old chant that hadn't heard the light of day in decades, but what the boy didn't know is why his brothers deemed to torture him so on this particular morning. He didn't want to know, because if his brothers are singing, it means they're in a good mood. And if they're in a good mood-

"'Allo, Perce," the first grinned, sticking a bright orange-topped head into the room.

"Top of the mornin' to our favorite brother of all time," laughed the second. Fred peeked in second, allowing his head to rest just below that of his twin.

A groan erupted from the third brother, who'd been praying to whatever deity that'd listen that they'd skip by him and bother ickle Ron, but instead, he'd been the one graced this fine morning.

"What? What do you two dunderheads want from me?" Percy frowned, scrambling to sit upright and find his glasses before Fred and George dared set a prank into motion. With the two of them, he always had to be on guard. Not a single day after their tenth birthday did he ever feel safe, and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

"Us?" Fred looked aghast.

George mirrored the face below. "What would we ever want from you?"

"How could you ever accuse us of wanting something?"

"How could you be so cruel?"

They joined hands at the crescendo of their concerned wailing. "We're your brothers!"

Anger boiled inside him. It lapped at the edge of his throat, coating his tongue in a bitter saliva he was more than willing to spit at the two making a spectacle in the door way. He'd simply wanted to have a good night's sleep before the first Quidditch practice of the ye-

"Oliver!" Percy gasped, leaping from beneath the covers and hunting for a robe.

The two at the door burst out in a fit of laughter, clinging to one another for support. "No, I'm Fred."

"And I'm... I'm George," the other heaved through a symphony of giggles.

Percy snarled, shoving his family to the side. "Quit it, you two. Out of the way! Prefect coming through!"

There were very few things that Percival Ignatius Weasley was ashamed of - but the first and foremost of those would be missing Oliver Wood's first day as Captain.

[Consulting_Angel]

Three minutes had passed, and Oliver was getting increasingly concerned. He did have the right day, didn't he? Well, of course he did. He would never forget when he had booked Quidditch practice, so even the mere thought of it was absurd. No, the rest of his teammates were late... or maybe he was just extremely early, but that was besides the point. If Gryffindor were going to win this year, then the Captain - him - was in no position to be casual about things. He was about to go off looking for the rest of the team - save for the Seeker, which they still did not have yet - when the three Chasers - Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell - arrived. They seemed to be quite tired, but they were also looking quite ready for training to begin. That's what he loved about the Chasers. It seemed to him that they were dedicated and raring to go. It wouldn't be long before he had them start training, he just needed to go over the plans first.

What also intrigued him about this was, as he thought about it, Percy Weasley had not yet arrived to witness the training session. His first training session as Quidditch Captain, and he couldn't even get one Gryffindor Prefect to turn up. Whatever. This would not diminish his enthusiasm or determination. He had more important things to be concerned about.

When the Weasley twins finally arrived, Oliver had a thought that would be quite rare to have - he was relieved that they'd finally turned up. "What took you so long?" Oliver asked them, but he was not going to berate them further. Enough time had been wasted, in his opinion. He took out his wand, and pointed it towards the board, tapping it once, so that several lines started drawing themselves onto the board. "Right, Team. My Gryffindor Team. We are going to WIN this year. And I have spent over a week planning exactly how. I have drawn up plans for if we have a top-notch Seeker, like we did last year... or if we have no Seeker at all. I will not allow for Gryffindor to have a sub-par Seeker, not since Charlie set the bar high last year."

[Grune]

Grasping his clothes like a mad man, Percy dashed out of the dorm and into the common room. He looked like a tornado, trailing clothes and papers behind him. They littered the area as if Gryffindor were his own personal Burrow. It'd be almost comical, if the the boy's face wasn't so serious.

Prefect badge slapped on crookedly only enhanced the natural lean of his tie and the slight bend of a wand sticking out from an unsecured robe. He was a disaster, and didn't dare look in a mirror for fear he'd fire himself. Disappointment hung heavy in his eyes as the impending sense of a ticking clock echoed in the background. Percy wasn't sure if he was imagining the clock, or if the twins had bewitched one to strike loudly only when he was late. Knowing them, he couldn't wave the notion away.

The twins trailed lazily behind the frantic mess, beating sticks hanging over their shoulders like some sort of grotesque Renaissance painting. They chatted idly, careful to throw a pointed finger Percy's way and laugh as if on a timer.

It only served to irritate the older boy further, and he was sure that's what it was meant for, anyway.

"What are you two doing just standing there?" Percy snapped, turning to face the twins in disarray. "You should be at practice! Not here, dawdling around and antagonizing me!"

Fred turned to George with a knowing smile. "Look at that! Percikins is worried we won't make it on time."

George feigned a hand to his forehead. "Whatever shall we do, Fred?"

"Cut it out!" the Prefect spat, stamping a foot to the ground in retaliation. "See if I care that you're late!"

With that, he turned and fled the Common.

Fred and George only laughed.

- x -

Percy was practically abuzz when the Quidditch field slowly came into view over the horizon. Usually, he was there before everyone else, hands clasped in awe at whatever the plan for that year happened to be. Although he was hardly the most fit of his brothers, and certainly, he wasn't a Quidditch player, Percy Weasley had the heart of one. He loved nothing more than running his fingers down a page of stats; hearing his brothers loudly clamor over the best play during the next morning's breakfast, and even close his eyes while flying to pretend he was a Chaser (but only for a few seconds). However, he'd never dare admit his love for the sport. He'd rather pretend it was droll and unneccessary, because then he could field the question of, "why don't you play Quidditch like your brothers?" by saying he found it a ridiculous waste of time, which was much more preferable than facing his own shortcomings.

He raised a hand over his head, ready to call out to Oliver Wood when he saw Fred and George's thick ginger hair bob closer to the Captain than they dared have a right to be. They were behind him! And apparating on school grounds is forbidden! How in the world did they get there so fast?

It angered him, quite like everything else, and he shut that anger between two pursed lips and a frown.

- x -

The sour faced Prefect arrived out of breath and ready to begin interrogating his brothers with hand motions while his lungs recovered, only to find that Oliver had started the meeting without him. It stung, especially as it'd be the first meeting he was late to since he'd been a first year and Bill had helped lead the meetings.

With a curt nod to the various players Gryffindor had to offer, Percy took a seat near the back so no one could see his face reddening in shame for being minutes behind schedule.

[Consulting_Angel]

Though he'd only said a few sentences, he spotted that Percy Weasley had finally turned up as well. Oliver didn't say anything, waiting until the Prefect had sat down, before he started talking again, repeating what he had already said - mostly just to ensure that Percy would not have missed anything. He knew that it was probably a terrible idea - to choose to not have a Seeker at all rather than one that could not live up to Charlie Weasley's reputation, but that was just the way it was going to have to be, in his opinion. The last thing they needed was for any of the other teams - especially Slytherin - to make them a laughing stock because 'Charlie was the best they ever had, and now they'll never win the Quidditch Cup'. He was going to have to discuss some of it with McGonagall, because she said that she would also be looking out for an excellent Seeker for them, and he knew that she wanted them to win just as much as Oliver did.

"You already said that, Oliver," Angelina Johnson commented, her words meant to be in kind, as though she thought that he'd forgotten what he'd already said.
"I know. I'm repeating it to make sure that you all understand," Oliver pointedly responded, patiently, glancing towards the Weasley twins, because he was sure that he might end up having to repeat everything anyway, just to make sure they were listening.

Approximately thirty minutes later, Oliver had come to the end of his presentation of all the plays and plans that he had set out, covering both whether they had a Seeker or not. He made sure to make a point to everyone that if they did not have a Seeker by the first match, then they would have to ensure that they scored at least 16 goals before the Snitch was caught, so that they would stand a chance of winning. Part of his instruction was for either Fred or George to focus on batting one Bludger towards the opposing Seeker, to distract them, and the other of the two to just focus on batting the other Bludger to the other players. He also knew that Angelina was the fastest of the Chasers, so he wanted her to intercept the Quaffle and keep it in possession, throwing it to either Katie or Alicia if any of the other team were to get too close, while going to the opposing goal posts, and for Alicia - who was, in his opinion, the best at aiming and throwing - to be scoring the goals. Though, of course, if either of the other Chasers are in position to score before Alicia, then they were to take the shot.

"Any questions?" Oliver eventually asked, looking around at the incomplete team, and raising an eyebrow, almost as if he was daring someone to question him.

[Grune]

Percy wasn't dim. He was more than aware that Oliver's repetition was for him, and him alone. And as deeply as he appreciated it, because God forbid he miss a minute of Gryffindor's doings, the shame burgeoned inside him. It flushed against the back of his throat with a bitter vinegar, edging his tongue to spit more than just words in distaste. His freckled nose wrinkled as he tried to shake the negativity from his thoughts, but it only caused it to spread further.

What sort of prefect was late to the first practice of the year? Even prefects who hate Quidditch show up to the first meeting. He knew the male Ravenclaw prefect absolutely despised "brutal acts of physical prowess" and even he showed up early to confer with the Captain. It gnawed at his sense of pride, and even worse, his sense of duty. Not just to the Quidditch team, or to Hogwarts, but to Oliver himself.

While Fred and George snickered to one another, making sure to hoot and holler like a couple of well-hydrated dwarves, it was Angelina that drew Percy's attention. Despite the fact that the entire team was enthralled in the finer points of the moving board, Angelina kept turning her head and raising an eyebrow at the older Weasley - and it only served to make him more confused, and thus, more flustered than before.

Who did she think she was? Was she silently judging his tardyness? His inability to focus on the finer details of the team composition? Of the multitude of plans the Captain had swiftly covered? What in the world was she doing, giving him that sort of stare?

His lips trembled, attempting to form words before his mind could make up what he wanted to say. He wanted to throw out nasty accusations to see what facial expression re-inforced the deep-seated insecurity that pioneered Percy Weasley. He wanted to confront the Chaser for all she was worth, and feel validated in his defensiveness. Instead, he spoke flippantly and without recourse.

"Why is Angelina's face like that?"

George burst out in a racous fit of laughter which caused him to double over and drop his club. Fred wheezed between gritted teeth, placing a hand on his inconsolable brother.

It was like he had his own chorus of Aidos; where his conjoling rang to the heavens and hell itself opened to swallow him whole.

[Consulting_Angel]

He assured himself, as he stood there, that his presentation had gone well. Nothing happened that he wasn't expecting - if one expected Fred and George Weasley to sit still and be quiet, then they would be bitterly disappointed, so he had refrained from commenting on them, for it would only take up precious training time. Perhaps, however, if there was one thing he had to pick out that he had noticed, was that Angelina had been glancing back towards Percy quite frequently. He was sure that she'd still been listening - certainly no less than the Weasley twins - but he still wondered what made Percy Weasley more interesting than his presentation. Not that the Prefect wasn't interesting, but still.

Oliver was more taken aback by Percy's question, because he certainly had not been expecting that. He figured that he should try and diffuse the situation, before it ended up escalating. The last thing he needed was his first training session as Captain to end early, or on a sour note. The matter was not helped by the Weasley twins - especially George - bursting into a heaving fit of laughter that was clearly not going to be quieted any time soon.

Before Oliver could begin to say anything, however, Angelina Johnson rolled her eyes, and huffed, as though the answer was obvious. "Why is my face like what?" she asked, her tone cold. She could be quite the feisty, sharp student, regardless of whatever status a fellow student happened to have. She knew - at least, she thought she did and made a guess at it - what Percy was referring to, so she continued without giving anyone much of a chance to respond to her. "Perhaps it's because you've failed to apologise for your tardiness. Or maybe you could at least pretend that you are interested in-" she was interrupted by Oliver, as he quickly stepped in.

"Ah, that's enough. This," he gestured between Percy and Angelina, "can be resolved after training." Oliver hoped that his tone would make it quite clear that he didn't want to hear any more on the matter - time was ticking away. He then addressed the entire group. "Now, if there's no questions related to Quidditch or training, then we can go to the pitch and get started." Oliver declared.

He tapped his board with his wand, and the lines faded, the board now clear and looking quite mundane - just in case someone from another Quidditch team happened to be sent to sneak around. Oliver turned towards Fred and George, who had barely managed to gather themselves, and would, no doubt, begin mocking Percy's tone and question at every opportunity - whether appropriate or not - until the next thing came along for them to latch onto to mock. "You two, pull yourselves together. The last thing we need is for one of you to drop your bats or fall off because you're still laughing," Oliver told them, sternly.

[Grune]

It pained him to have the girl reply so bitterly, but really, what had he been expecting when he spent the last several seconds insulting her? Truthfully, Angelina was a pretty girl. Tall, shapely, and with an oval face that served not only to intimidate on the Quidditch field, but to highlight the high arches of her brows. She was traditionally pretty, and Percy should appreciate such fine aesthetics in a burgeoning witch - at least, that's what his mother had always told him.

Molly was many things; mother, homemaker, worrier, cook, seamstress. But most of all, Molly was perceptive of all of her children. Even with the added difficulty of a bustling Burrow, there were certain things that she instinctively knew about her children. Bill loved all of his food scalding hot. Charlie needed socks replaced more than his brothers. Fred was usually on the left, George on the right - and both needed constant supervision. Ron took kisses to the forehead, and Ginny to the nose. And Percy? Percy needed an elbow now and again to notice the witches his age.

He'd remembered one time in Hogsmade when everyone had been left to their own devices - running around desperately trying to grab supplies for the next school year. Percy was more than capable of grabbing his own books, but his mother insisted on staying by his side that year. He attempted to protest, but there was only one Weasley more stubborn than he was, and it was Molly.

As soon as they were alone, she'd nudge his side and whisper, "Percy, look at those nice girls over there! Don't you want to say hello?" He'd moan and complain and have every, "But mum" excuse in the book, resulting in more questionable stares than actual conversations.

On the way back, she took him aside for one final word of wisdom. Gently rubbing her thumb against his cheek, she sighed. "Clearly wasn't the right year, yeah? Maybe at school, you'll find a girl who appreciates all of your charm. Doesn't hurt to look though, does it? Start hunting early for a nice, traditional family!" It was advice he'd been expecting from his father for many years, and to hear it from Molly was only another kick in the teeth. Because there were many things he liked about the witches in Hogsmede, or even Angelina and her symmetrical face, but there was one person he liked quite a lot more.

"Ah, that's enough. This," Wood spat, irritation clear in his stance. "can be solved after training."

To be reprimanded by his closest friend and Captain of the Quidditch team didn't bode well for the rest of the year. It was an omen, if he believed in any of the garbage Trelawney pushed on them. And although he was forced to take Divination and thought the majority of it was a hoax, he didn't want to tempt fate to take the rest of its anger out on him for being a non-believer.

"Sorry, sir." Fred saluted, pulling George to his feet.

"Won't happen again, sir," George gasped, trying to steady himself with his twin's aide.

If he could be thankful for one thing, it was that his brothers, despite all of their downfalls, were some of the best distractions mankind could offer. A slight reprieve. He'd take it.

Before Percy could mumble an apology and scoot himself out of sight from the all-prying-eyes of Angelina, he turned to catch Oliver's eyes; silently pleading for some sort of side-bar before practice begins.

[Consulting_Angel]

While the three Chasers stood up and left to walk down to the Quidditch pitch - Angelina shooting a final glare towards Percy before she left - Oliver was still focused on the Weasley twins. He rolled his eyes at their response to him, attempting to appear annoyed and stern, but he was unable to do that for long, because there was just something about the two of them that meant no one (except, perhaps, Filch the caretaker and Professor Snape) could stay particularly mad at them for long, even if they were just pretending. As a result, he smiled very slightly towards the two of them, and said, "Good. Now get a move on," unable to keep out a hint of fondness in his tone. As a quick afterthought, he added, "Oh, and could the two of you take the crate down as well?" he gestured towards the lidded, black crate that held the Quaffle, Bludgers and the Golden Snitch.

As he turned around, and saw that Percy was still there, looking as though he wanted to talk to him, Oliver hesitated. He was, of course, thinking about the time being spent not training. However, he did know he didn't have to be completely hammering in the whole 'we need to be training' all the time. He slightly inclined his head, in a nod, silently agreeing to having a conversation, figuring that it wouldn't take more than five minutes, and he trusted the rest of the team to at least start warming up and not kill each other.

Only when Fred and George had left did he speak. "Yes, Percy?" he asked, his tone patient, though not as if he was annoyed. He quite liked Percy, and considered him to be a good friend - and he was certain that it was vice-versa. He suspected, however, that the reason he was likely one of Percy's closest friends was because he was one of Percy's only friends. He had hardly seen him going around with many other students, unlike in his own case where he was sure that he was almost, if not just as, popular as the Weasley twins, and as Charlie had been. It seemed that hardly a day would go by without at least five people approaching him in the corridors, wanting to have a brief conversation while walking to class - sometimes students that he barely knew. He had also been told - though he didn't know how true it was - that apparently some students over in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had mentioned how they wished Oliver was part of their House team. He wasn't quite sure what to think of that, but he'd be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy the popularity.

As for Percy, Oliver couldn't say the same for the Prefect. He was sure that he had his own circle of friends, outside of the one that came attached with Oliver, he just hadn't really seen or noticed them... maybe. Regardless of this, he still liked the Weasley, and he often kept him on top of his deadlines for homework, which was always a bonus. The kind of person his father would say 'Now there's a model student!' about. Not that his father wasn't proud of his own son, but there was always the occasional question and comment. They were infrequent - certainly far more infrequent than the comments some other student's parents would make - but they were enough to spur Oliver to push himself harder. Especially for Quidditch, for he had heard countless times how both of his parents had been on their respective Quidditch teams (his father a Ravenclaw, his mother a Gryffindor) and always did excellently, and they had been Quidditch Captains, and won the House Cup twice each. Well, he was determined to try and win it three times.

Anyway. His attention refocused on the conversation at hand, though he was now more aware of the time passing. There wasn't even a clock in the room, yet it was almost as if he didn't even need one.