Perciver Oneshots

Quidditch Games and Fertilizer

So...the thing about this fic...I kinda had a crisis half way through and switched tenses, so if they're off, that's why. I had to go back and change all the verbs rip, sorry about that.

Now I'm kinda freaking out cause I literally can't do grammar anymore and it's not good.

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Percy pov

I do not have a crush on Oliver Wood.

I do not have a crush on Oliver...my thoughts trail off because that's when Oliver freaking Wood walks out of the bathroom with just a towel tied around his waist, hair still wet from the shower. Water drips from his hair and onto his broad, tan shoulders. All the time he spends playing Quidditch shows in the curves of his well defined abs.

"Whatcha reading?" Oliver asks, snapping me out of my daze.

"Potions book," I reply, holding up the book I had been trying to read. Emphasis on trying. I watch as Oliver wanders over to his trunk and pulls out his pajamas. I clear my throat and avert my eyes, "How was practice?" I ask, hoping to break the silence.

"Good, good, I think we're ready for tomorrow," he says, referring to the big match against Slytherin tomorrow morning.

"That's good. Just tell Fred and George to watch Graham, he likes to overlap with Adrian and Marcus a lot." I've been to most of Oliver's games so I know most of the other players fairly well, meaning I know their tendencies.

"I'll be sure to let them know, thanks. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do if you didn't help us with plays." Oliver catches my gaze, brown eyes narrowing, "Are you okay? You seem a little...off." Yeah, I was kind of freaking out over here. He was still standing there in just a towel and I have no idea where to look.

"No, yeah, um, I'm fine." I gulp.

"If you say so." With that he retreats back into the bathroom with his pajamas in hand.

Once the door shuts, I slump down in my seat, letting my Potions book fall into my lap.

Okay, maybe I have a little crush on Oliver Wood.

Oliver pov

I wake up at 5:30, buzzing with energy. I don't need to get up before 6:30, but I'm so excited that I can't get back to sleep. It's the first match of the season, and it's a big game at that. I've been waiting for ages to be able to play again: to feel the atmosphere of the whole school watching and cheering, the thrill of protecting the goals, the excitement of not knowing if we would win or not. I'm eager to be in the locker room before the match with the team, running over plays and strategies one last time.

After switching sides in my bed fifty gajillion times and twisting myself into a death trap of sheets and blanket, I finally give up on trying to fall back asleep and stand up. I pace a little next to my bed, running through Slytherin tactics one more time.

I look over to where Percy is sleeping in his own bunk. He looks so peaceful, his fiery orange hair stark against his freckled pale skin. I long to trace those freckles, make them my own personal constellation.

I shake my head, trying to knock the thoughts loose. I can't afford to have those thoughts, not before a match, not ever. He's my best friend, there's no way he feels the same and I don't want to risk losing him.

How could he ever like me back? He's literally the smartest person in our year. All I do is fly around on a broom while people throw balls at me. It sounds very sad when I say it like that.