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| [ Willful Blindness] by Teague Percy/Oliver. I read the summary at crack_van and my heart sunk, because how could it not be badfic? But somehow, it isn't. It's adorable. "Marcus has - " Percy hesitated, then blurted, "a bit of a crush on me I guess you'd say..."
"And I take it you're not interested?" Oliver tried to make his voice sound neutral, but it came out a bit squeaky.
"No!" Percy half yelled at him. "I've hated him since the first time I met him! He's always been a bully, not to mention he's SLYTHERIN, in case you didn't notice, and REGULARLY cheats at Quidditch!" | |
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| [ Out Of The Closet, Into The Frying Pan] by cairnsyPercy/Oliver. Short, amusing little coming out scene - not perfectly written, but it's funny. "I want to come out of the closet." By the sheer shock that seem to radiate off of every family member - enough so that they put Chenobol to shame, the message had gotten through. After they all exchanged glances, it was his mother who spoke up first, her voice gentle and calm.
"Percy, dear - you are not in the closet, you're in the living room. Maybe you should sit down."
So maybe they hadn't quite grasped the concept as well as he had first thought. | |
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| [ The Manly Art Of Gentle Seduction] by nothingbutficPercy/Oliver. Short and sweet. Percy Weasley had never seduced anyone before. Indeed, he was rather at a loss to even posit what it actually involved. Although he hadn’t been party to any acts of seduction himself, he had witnessed the trials and travails of his housemates and fellow students over the years, seemingly going through what appeared to be a smooth, organic process.
It started with a smile or two, a glance, an accidental touch, a casual conversation at lunch or between classes or during a Quidditch game. It would lead to notes being slipped into books during class, study dates, lunch together…and sooner or later Percy would find them snogging behind the broom shed while on his rounds.
He never quite understood it, and certainly didn’t engage in such practices himself. For Percy, there was no point in trying anything if he couldn’t be certain of success, not wishing to allow any damage to his pride or reputation. But once he believed he could do something, Percy would go for it and kill himself in the attempt if need be. Seduction, however, was not one of these areas. Unlike homework or diligent obedience to school regulations, it was not something easily assessed. One made the attempt and then one either succeeded or failed, seemingly through luck more than anything else – at least in Percy’s judgment, and he had never been particularly lucky. | |
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| [ Fight Or Flight] by silviakunderaPercy/Oliver. I like the style of this fic a lot, sparse and pretty. "But I can't help but feel that I am shirking no small part of my duty," said Percy against the back of his neck, curled in tight to avoid the thick clumps of spider web, and Oliver told him in no uncertain terms that he would, "pluck every hair out of your head, arms, and legs, plus the three on your chest," if Percy dared to speak another word about the matter.
This earned Oliver a huff paired with, "You're just like my brothers," and Percy's forehead a smack with the back of Oliver's head (which pained the smacker and the smackee, thank you very much) and, finally, silence on both of their parts.
That is, until Percy squirmed and muttered, "Cannot form why you insist upon--". And Oliver kissed him, because he'd have killed him otherwise, and he heard that Azkaban was truly dreadful that time of year, and there was this way that Percy's mouth parted ever so slightly while he bent over a thick manuscript, and the way that Percy's fingers griped at quills as if they were lifelines, and the freckle that fell just where the slope of his neck drifted into being a shoulder.
It was, by Oliver's estimation, a long time coming. | |
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| [ Pansy Parkinson And The Perfectly Prudish Prefect] by makishefPansy/Penelope, Percy/Oliver. Wonderfully, insanely alliterative story. Percy the perfect prefect was a pretty sight to see, with coppery curls and a serious sepia stare, and while his prudish, precious Penelope was particularly plain, she had porcelain-pale skin and a petal pink pout. It was this same prudish Penelope who caught the curiosity of Pansy Parkinson, the salacious Slytherin.
For weeks she watched the precious Penelope, the perfectly prudish paramour of Percy the perfect prefect, looking and learning from afar. A perfect prude, indeed, thought Pansy, licking her lips lasciviously.
She made it her mission to make this most monotonous maiden -- for surely Percy the perfect prefect was patient and too polite to pervert his precious Penelope, though it was Pansy's suspicion he was simply a pouf -- into her own willing wanton. This precious Penelope was certainly so pure, and it was Pansy's desire to sully such a spotless specimen, as that's what sneaky, satyric Slytherins did best. | |
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| Fly Down Long Fields To Me by zortifiedPercy/Oliver. Short and pretty. In the years Oliver had known Percy, he'd got some good ideas what Percy liked. He'd tried one after another, but every time he'd failed to get more than Percy's momentary attention. He'd borrowed books he'd thought Percy would like; he'd bought an expensive enchanted tea which helped you retain the things you read and given it to Percy on his birthday; he'd followed Wizard politics almost as avidly as he followed the professional Quidditch standings, so he could have a conversation which lasted longer than 'Hullo, Percy' 'See you later, then, Oliver.'
He thought about giving up. There were half a dozen others ready and willing to date him, girls if he wanted to be obvious about it and boys if he wanted to sneak around in private. But none of them were Percy.
Oliver couldn't have stopped trying, even if he'd wanted to. The more he couldn't get him, the more he wanted him, and the more he wanted him, the more he had to try. | |
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| Maybe You Were Right by renee6612Percy/Oliver. Short, pretty little piece of preslash. In retrospect, I probably should have listened to you. No – I definitely should have listened to you. You know how to attract people.
You’d laugh if you could hear that, I know. You look in the mirror and you see hair that’s a lurid shade of red, and horn-rimmed glasses, and a complexion that’s - shall we say, less than clear. Never had a best friend, wasn’t kissed until sixth-year, a swot, a teacher’s pet, utterly unlikeable.
So how come every time I’m around you, I want to run my fingers through that hair, and hold you close, and gaze into your eyes – such a perfect shade of blue – and . . . and . . .
I should have listened to you, Percy. You know how to attract people. | |
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