Collarbones- Perciver
It’s not necessarily a big problem, like that time he’d agreed to help nana with her christmas cooking and nearly burned down the kitchen, or that time da had introduced him to his new girlfriend and he’d puked on her shoes. But it’s still a problem.
The thing is, Oliver is a simple man. He likes straightforward classes, like potions and defense, and he likes quidditch because it’s a simple game that requires complex thinking. Most of all, he likes Percy Weasley- but Percy Weasley is not a simple man, and Oliver spends an inordinate amount of time trying to figure him out.
It’s a long term project, but Oliver is not opposed to hard work, and Percy is worth it, always has been. That’s not the problem, not at all.
The problem is that somewhere along the line being friends with Percy turned into falling hopelessly, madly in love with Percy, and now Oliver can’t even study in the library with him without daydreaming about biting his collarbones.
Fuck. The collarbones are just there, okay? They’re exposed by the scoop neck of his Weasley sweater the way they never are when he wears his robes and his school shirt, and it turns out Oliver’s weakness- besides just Percy in general- is apparently an extra inch of creamy white skin sprinkled with freckles, and the small hollow where Percy’s shoulder meets his neck.
He wants to lick it. He wants to bite it. He wants to snog Percy Weasley absolutely senseless and figure out what will make him gasp and squirm and agree to be his boyfriend.
Unfortunately, Percy has never once given even the slightest inclination that he might be on board with such ideas, and so Oliver is not about to say any of that out loud, ever, not even if Penelope Clearwater makes good on her threat to lock them in a broom cupboard so they’ll ‘finally stop dancing around each other and admit they’re arse-over-tits for each other’(her words, not his). Penelope is kind of weird, but Oliver likes her anyway. For one, she’s Percy’s best friend, and for another the fact she thinks it’s even possible Percy might like him back is extremely flattering, even if it couldn’t possibly be true.
He blinks and Percy is looking at him, brow wrinkled in concern, his blue eyes as sharply intelligent as ever, even though the bags under his eyes seem etched into his skin. Percy’s insomnia has been one of Oliver’s main worries since first years, and now that Percy’s got the prefect position it’s only gotten worse.
“You okay?” Percy’s voice is deeper than one would expect, and slightly gravelly because of all the cigarettes he smokes. Sometimes, he’ll read out loud before they put the lights out in the dorm, and it’s Oliver’s favourite sound in the world, “You seem distracted. Well- more distracted than usual.”
He grins, propping an elbow on the desk beside his arithmancy books, and the movement makes the divot of his collarbone even more pronounced. Oliver curses whatever deity or creature Penelope must have convinced to torment him, and tries not to whimper.
He tries to meet teasing with teasing but it sounds too breathless to be truly convincing. Luckily, Percy doesn’t press, just shrugs elegantly and turns back to his books.
Oliver goes back to staring at him over his copy of Numerology and Grammatica Level Five.
Deep red curls glow under the warm light from the lanterns, framing high cheekbones and brushing over Percy’s perfectly round ears. A delicate nose balances out a strong jaw, and plush, slightly chapped pink lips part to show a flash of pink tongue caught between Percy’s teeth.
Oliver wishes said tongue was caught between his teeth.
He should go back to reading. The assignment is due in three days, and reading takes him longer than it should, all things considered. Instead, he goes back to looking at Percy’s collarbones rather than his face. It seems safer. Marginally.
The collarbones are still exquisite. Oliver still very much wants to bite them. It’s still a problem.
“Do I have something on my shirt?”
“W-what?” Oliver jumps, caught, and tries very hard not to look guilty, “No. Why?”
“You’re staring at it rather intently,” Percy tugs at his collar, pulling his sweater out to examine it, showing off even more skin and causing Oliver’s brain to melt, which is why he says what he says next.
“I’m not staring at your sweater, I'm staring at your collarbones.”
In the time it takes him to realize what he said and slap a horrified hand over his mouth so he can’t say anything even more life ruining, Percy turns about twelve different shades of red, his mouth dropping open.
“Nothing!” Oliver jumps up, fully intending to go throw himself into the lake and let the giant squid eat him, “I’m staring at nothing! Sorry I-”
“Oliver Benjamin Wood,” Percy says, and it’s his prefect voice, the one that makes Oliver shiver in a multitude of ways, but that also leaves no room for argument, ever, “sit down and tell me why you’re looking at my collarbones.”
Oliver drops back into his seat, shaking his head mutinously.
Percy takes a step towards him, face still glowing like the sunrise. Oliver cringes and contemplates attempting apparition even though he’s never tried before and it also doesn’t work in Hogwarts.
Then, Percy does something absolutely, entirely, completely evil. He takes another step closer and leans it, breath ghosting over Oliver’s face, and whispers, “please?”
“BecauseIwanttobitethem.”
Oliver didn’t think it was possible for Percy to go any redder, but somehow he manages it. Distantly, he wonders if he should be worried about Percy’s health.
“You…want to bite my collarbones?”
Oliver can only nod helplessly, still reeling from the feeling of Percy’s breath on his cheek, and those blue, blue eyes boring into his soul.
“Right,” Percy exhales a deep breath, and nods, his face rapidly retuning to normal except for a slight pink tinge over his cheekbones, “okay. Let’s go.”
He holds out a hand. Oliver stares.
“Let’s go.” Percy huffs, but he’s grinning, eyes twinkling mysteriously in a way that has haunted Oliver’s fantasies for years.
Is Percy going to murder him in the forbidden forest? Turn him into McGonagall for being a creeper? Sick Penelope on him?
“Back to the dorm," Percy says, like it's obvious, "so you can bite my collarbones and I can lick that freckle on your neck.”
“What?” It’s Oliver’s turn to choke. He can picture the scene, the two of them intertwined on his bed, Percy’s curls tickling his nose as his mouth drags over- nope. Can’t think of that in public, can’t think of that in public. “You- you want to lick my neck?”
“Have for ages.” Percy sighs and that- that does it.
Oliver jumps from his seat and seizes Percy’s hand, tugging them towards the door.
“Yep, alright, let's go, let’s go right now.”
Percy laughs and trips after him, casting a summoning charm over his shoulder so their books pack themselves up and follow them back to Gryffindor tower. Not that it really matters. They aren’t going to do much studying for the rest of the day, at least not if Oliver has anything to say about it. He’s got far more important things to do.