It was an odd habit they had gotten into since their first day at Hogwarts. There had been an awful thunderstorm and Percy Weasley was feeling homesick. He had never spent the night away from his family before, and the fact that both of his older brothers were merely a shout away did not seem to register in his mind. Oliver Wood sat on his bed, watching the small redhead jump at every clap of thunder. It looked as if it was taking all of Percy's strength not to burst into tears, and Oliver felt horrible. So he did the only thing he knew that was slightly comforting. He crawled from his bed, into his room mates' and opened his arms. Percy gave him an odd look then Oliver explained that is was what his mother used to do when he was upset. After determining that Oliver was not mocking him, Percy slowly leaned into Oliver, allowing the slightly older boy to wrap his arms around his shoulders. As then night wore on, they went from sitting up to lying down, Oliver's arms still wrapped protectively around the other boy.
It was a habit only used when one of the boys was truly upset.
Most incidents were things only the other could understand. Percy's first, and only, non-Outstanding grade (for which Oliver still hated Severus Snape), Gryffindor's numerous Quidditch losses, Bill and Charlie's graduation, and the misplacing of a signed copy of 'Quidditch Throughout the Ages'.
Neither boy thought much of this habit until their sixth year at Hogwarts. Both thought the Heir of Slytherin nothing but a myth until the first student was attacked. Percy Weasley ignored his Prefect duties that night to instead keep a protective hold on Oliver in their dorm. Oliver Wood was a Muggle born. He had not told many people and the rest assumed he was Wizarding Heritage due to his skills on the Quidditch Pitch.
As the year wore on, Oliver's nights in Percy's bed increased. After the second attack, Oliver spent a week curled against Percy, the red head whispering that he was safe and a monster wouldn't dare come near a Prefect.
Oliver refused to leave Percy's bed after Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger were attacked. Percy's image of 'Prefects Were Safe' was shattered, and after losing Penelope to the monster, he took it upon himself to protect his best friend. They lay at night, tangled in the sheets, arms wrapped around each other for dear life.
Harry Potter had saved the day again though, and the monster was defeated. That night, Oliver found himself in Percy's bed again, this time with the knowledge that he was truly safe, and Percy (not Harry) had kept him that way.
It was now their seventh year, with Percy as Head Boy, and Oliver determined as ever to win the Quidditch Cup.
When Hufflepuff won over Gryffindor, Percy fully expected to see Oliver curled up under his blanket as he always found Oliver after a losing game. But when he entered the seventh year dorm, he found both beds neatly made, and Oliver sitting on the window sill, staring out into the rain. Percy sighed and began gathering his toiletries, mentally preparing for what he would say to Oliver later.
When Percy returned from his shower, he was pleased to find that Oliver had changed into his pajamas and was lying on his bed. He moved around the room, straightening up a bit and setting out clothes for the next day. He removed his glasses, placing them on the bedside table, before crawling into bed with the Keeper. He turned onto his side and reached out, cautiously wrapping an arm around Oliver's waist. The other rolled so his chest was pressed against Percy's and his head was buried between Percy's neck and the pillow.
"You played brilliantly." Percy muttered after a few minutes, his fingers slowly beginning to run up and down Oliver's side in a comforting manor.
"We lost, Perce." Oliver muttered back.
"I know, but you still played brilliantly. Bollocks to the rest of them. " After four years of Oliver playing Keeper, Percy knew that he always felt that the Gryffindor team losing was his fault. A dragon could appear on the field and eat Harry right before he caught the Snitch, and Oliver would beat himself up over not preparing Harry for a dragon attack.
"We've lost the Cup," The Keeper moaned, turning his head slightly and pressing his face into the pillow.
"No we haven't." Percy sighed, slipping his hand under Oliver's night shirt, getting slightly annoyed that the fabric kept catching on a hangnail. Oliver made a small noise of protest, Percy's hands were cold, but gave in when the small strokes returned.
"It'd be a miracle if things played out exactly as I needed them to. "
"Well, we are due for a miracle then, aren't we?" Oliver nodded mutely, the events of the day catching up to his body. Percy smiled to himself and closed his eyes, drifting into his own thoughts.
It would be odd, he thought, when he left Hogwarts. He would miss nights like this. No, not having an upset Keeper curled against him, looking for reassurance. It would be falling asleep with Oliver he would miss, and waking up in the morning to sleepy brown eyes and that lopsided grin. Surely Penelope could not mimic what he had with Oliver, but Percy figured he would find that she had her own way of making him smile in the morning.
Percy frowned and opened his eyes, looking down at the brown tuft of hair by his chin.
Who would Oliver have?
Who would be there to trace the Keeper's abs in a way that would make him instantly tired? Or to point out there was always hope? Or scold him when he refused to wake?
In fact, would Penelope do that for him? Only Oliver knew that humming Muggle Christmas carols would cheer him up, despite what ever mood he was in. Only Oliver (and his mother) knew that when everything was covered in snow, he liked to curl up and read with a cup of hot chocolate that had a small amount of honey in it. Percy wasn't exactly sure he was ready to tell Penelope those things.
Oliver yawned and pressed himself closer to Percy. The redhead stopped moving his fingers and wrapped his arm around Oliver's waist. His smile returned when Oliver's arm found his waist and pulled him even closer.
They were more than just friends, Percy decided. They needed each other. He knew, deep inside himself, that Oliver felt the same way.
"Good night, Oliver."
The redhead flicked his wrist slightly and the lights in the room turned off. He closed his eyes again and muffled his own yawn before curling slightly into the Keeper.
"I love you, Ol."
"Love you too, Perce."
Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood fell into a peaceful sleep, holding each other in a new light.