Fred and George look at Oliver like they're waiting for the punchline, smirks hovering at their lips. Oliver doesn't deliver a punchline. Percy stands stiffly at his side, the hand that isn't holding Oliver's curled into a fist. It was an accident, them being seen. Oliver hadn't realised how late it was getting, hadn't even heard his teammates until four of them had burst into the changing rooms. But he can't say he's unhappy about it. Secrecy isn't his style.
"Are you joking?" Angelina says finally. She looks like she hopes they're joking.
"No," Oliver says. "We're dating."
Percy's hand spasms in his. They haven't actually used that word yet, but Oliver thinks four months is long enough.
"But..." George trails off. He gazes at Fred in a hopeless, desperate sort of way. Fred looks like he's going to be sick.
"That makes no sense," Angelina finishes for him.
Oliver glares at them. "It doesn't have to make sense to you," he says coldly. "I'm going to walk Percy back to the castle and I want you all changed and in the air by the time I get back."
He walks past them, feeling triumphant for the few seconds it takes to get outside. Then Percy snatches his hand away. His ears are very red and he walks with quick, sharp steps that have Oliver jogging to keep up.
"Hey, Percy, wait." Oliver grabs his arm, pulling him to an abrupt halt. "What's up?"
Percy looks incredulous. Oliver waits.
"You heard them," Percy splutters finally. "I told you what they'd be like. I told you I didn't want them to know."
"Yeah, but then they walked in on us snogging. The cat was out of the bag, Perce."
"That didn't mean you had to..."
"To what? Say we're dating? We are."
Silence. Oliver's high is dying quick, being replaced by the sour twist in his chest that he's tried so hard to push down the past few months.
"Right," he says heavily, turning to go, "I'll go tell them I was joking then, shall I?"
He walks slowly, waiting, waiting, hoping. But Percy doesn't call him back.