Lean on Me ||perciver

5. Right Genius

Come morning, Oliver cautiously crept from his room, unsure of what to do with himself. The day before yesterday had been a disaster, and Oliver wasn't exactly sure of where he stood with Percy. He didn't even know if he could handle whatever events were yet to transpire.

A quick peek into the living room revealed the tousled red locks of his flatmate laying across the couch. So he was asleep, then. Alright, Oliver could handle this.

He treaded softly across the floor to loom over the unconscious Percy, who was in a deep sleep. He was still in his ministry clothes, wrinkled from spending the night on the couch, and had evidently  fallen asleep while in the middle of working, if the open files over the coffee table was anything to go by.

Oliver sighed, clicked his tongue at Percy's work ethics and unfolded a blanket set aside on the arm of the couch to drape it over Percy's sleeping form. He had a perfectly functional bed that he never seemed to use, and at some point, it had become routine to tuck him in on the couch and set out some breakfast. Today, however, no matter how much he would have liked to stick around and gaze at Percy's lovely face until he woke up, he couldn't, because he had practice to go to.

In a quick pace, Oliver set out a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly on the table for Percy to hopefully happen by. In the process, he passed by the sink to see the plate he had set out for him the night before was practically licked clean. Percy had eaten his dinner, at least.

He gathered his quidditch gear, keys, and wallet, sparing one last glance at his flatmate before leaving the flat and setting off for practice.

This time, he had decided against apparation for a while and settled for riding his broom to the pitch instead. He didn't know how long he would be avoiding apparation, but he figured it wouldn't kill him if he simply avoided it for the rest of his life. Quite the opposite, he assumed.

His flight was mostly uneventful, but refreshing, as riding a broom tended to be for him. Sure, it was a pain in the arse to live in muggle-occupied neighborhoods where he had to take care to remember all of the charms and precautions that came with avoiding being seen, but it was always a delight to feel the wind rippling his clothes and tousling through his hair. He was almost sad to get off of it once he caught sight of their pitch.

He landed softly on the grassy fields of Puddlemore United's fields only to be tackled to the ground by his teammate.

"Welcome back," Angelina said once she relented her attack and allowed Oliver to get up. "The whole team missed you. I could probably kill Fred and George for the stunt they pulled last week."

"Don't bother, I already call dibs, since they've decided that I was a good test subject for their new merchandise just recently. It was awful." He groaned, remembering his babblings and worst of all, his flatmate's face. "Got exposed to some sort of truth-telling-impulsive-compulsion-poweder-thing, ended up saying a lot of weird stuff to Percy and now he's...well."

"Fred didn't tell me anything about that," Angelina said, a storm brewing in her eyes. Oliver could almost see the electricity cackling about in the air, she was so tense. He could only hope that she would knock some sense into the twins for him.

"Yeah. I'm going to get them to St Mungo's myself, see how they like that," Oliver said, only half joking.

"Well, whatever we do to them, it'll be worse than everything they've done to you."

Oliver agreed. Time spent off of the field was time wasted. He could have been on a broomstick with his teammates, going over drills and bettering his skills, and yet, he had been hospitalized by the twins and their dangerous ideas. Ironically enough, quidditch was what had caused his injury, though not in the way that he would have preferred. He had agreed to letting the twins set him up with someone who turned out to be a complete lunatic and a fan of an opposing team. Needless to say, it had not gone down well.