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“And we are hosting the coolest end-of-term party this school has ever seen,” Penelope announced triumphantly, flourishing a hand above her head. “No arguments.”
“But –” Percy started.
“Ah ah ah! No arguments,” Penny insisted, rounding on him. “And this isn’t even because you lost the bet. This is just because I want to.” She grinned. She already had plans for what she was going to make Percy do as payback for the bet. “Don’t worry, hun. Only your best interests at heart.”
“Why does that not convince me,” Percy grumbled. “I was only going to ask where you were planning on hosting this event.”
“I’ve got a big classroom staked out on the third floor – I’m gonna ward it so kids can only get in with the password. I’ve got it all planned out, don’t you worry.” She punched Percy’s arm playfully, and Percy laughed and tried to hit her back. She darted out of the way, though, and took off down the corridor, Percy swearing and bolting after her.
Sometimes it was easy to forget they were sixteen. Only one more year of school left.
~~~
“Penelope. What. Is. That.”
Penny laughed. “It’s a costume,” she grinned, dancing across the dorm room to him. They were in the Slytherin dorms, the two boys who shared a room with Percy both off somewhere else. Brooks was likely getting ready for the party as well, probably with his girlfriend, Taylor. Penny didn’t care much where Finian was, the guy was a right prick.
“A costume,” Percy said doubtfully, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of what?”
“It’a muggle style,” Penny said.
Percy barked a laugh. “If all muggles dress like that…”
“Just a certain type,” Penny brushed him off. “It’ll look good. Promise.”
“Well, I’m certainly not wearing it,” Percy scoffed. “What on earth would I need a costume for?”
Penny grinned. “It’s a costume party, remember?”
“No,” Percy said, his face stony.
“Oh, whoops, must have slipped my mind,” Penny giggled.
“How am I not convinced that this wasn’t intentional?” Percy rolled his eyes. “Penelope Clearwater, you are more conniving than any Slytherin I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks,” Penelope grinned.
~~~
Oliver wasn’t sure about this whole party thing, but Penelope seemed so excited.
The Gryffindor quidditch team, along with a couple other quidditch players like Cedric and Brooks, were dressed as various muggle athletes. Penny had said the theme was ‘dress like a muggle – but properly’, whatever that meant. He assumed it was to prevent people from doing what adults did at the Quidditch World Cup, going in nightgowns and such.
The group of them approached the classroom, and Oliver was suddenly even more glad he’d gone with a group because he’d forgotten the code Penny set up. He still didn’t understand why Penny and Percy hadn’t gone with him and Cedric, but maybe Penelope was gearing up for some sort of surprise. Penny loved surprises.
Percy did not.
So if Penny was pulling a surprise, Percy had to be in on it too, otherwise…
Bloodshed.
Well, except to Penny herself, because she was simply impossible to control and barely listened to anyone, Percy included.
“Holy shit.”
Oliver frowned, trying to work his way to the front of the group at the sound, but suddenly the twins were at his sides.
“Wood, you got any bleach?” Fred demanded, grabbing Oliver’s arm. “I need a new pair of eyes.”
“Yeah, I know you’re best mates and all that but – not something I needed to see today,” George agreed. “Or, like, ever.”
“OLIVER.”
That was Brooks. Oliver ignored the twins, pushing past them to Brooks. “What?” he asked. They still hadn’t even gone in yet, for Merlin’s sake.
“I need you to understand that I love Taylor,” Brooks said, eyes wide, “But fuck, man. He looks fabulous.”
“Who?” Oliver demanded, seriously impatient now. He was tired of people speaking in riddles. He just wanted to go in and find his friends.
“Percy,” Brooks said, pushing Oliver’s shoulders. “Go, mate. Just go.”
“For fuck’s sake, that’s what I’ve been trying to do,” Oliver grumbled, pushing his way through the door.
A cursory glance around the room, trying to find Percy and Penny, told him that everyone – everyone everyone – was either staring in one direction or trying to look like they weren’t staring in that direction.
So Oliver turned, and –
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
Percy had spotted him and was striding across the room towards him.
Now, Oliver was used to looking up at his best friend. Percy was a good head taller than him, all limbs. That was normal.
What wasn’t normal was Percy being at least a foot taller than Oliver was, still all in the goddamn legs because he was wearing absolutely massive boots with the tallest heels and thickest soles Oliver had ever seen. The boots were black with silver buckles and made his strides so much faster, but they weren’t nearly the highlight of the show.
First of all, Percy’s hair, which was naturally curly but normally forced into submission, was spiked up all over the place. His glasses were gone, and Oliver had no idea how he was seeing, because he was completely blind without them, so maybe he’d fixed some sort of charm. But the only reason that was important was because without them, you could see that his eyes were winged with thick liner and dark eyeshadow, streaks of mascara down his cheeks in curves like tear tracks. He was wearing lipstick, too, almost black, giving his already wonderful lips an incredible pouty sort of look. Which truly wasn’t fair.
Secondly, he was wearing some sort of halter top, tight black something that was ripped in spots, showing flashes of stomach and collarbone. He had fishnets on, too, and those were ripped as well.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, not only was Percy wearing fishnets, but the only thing covering said fishnets was a very, short, very tight skirt.
A.
SKIRT.
Oliver was going to have a heart attack. He was going to keel over and die, right then and there.
“Hey,” Percy greeted, sounding something like grumpy.
“Um.” Oliver cleared his throat. “Hi. Wow.”
Percy sighed, tugging at the skirt. “I know. It’s a lot. Everyone’s staring at me, I know I look stupid… I can’t wait for this to be over. I’m only doing this because Penny made me.”
“No,” Oliver blurted. “No, you look –” Unbearably hot? Sexy as all hell? A fucking masterpeice, the subject of Oliver’s daydreams, the object of all his desires?
He cleared his throat again.
“You look great,” he managed weakly. “People are probably just surprised, it’s so different from how you usually look. But seriously –” he managed a smile – “you look good. Don’t worry about it.”
And Percy looked at him and smiled and fuck, this was the end. “Thank you,” he murmured, still smiling, catching his lip between his teeth for a moment, eyes darting away, as though he still wasn’t sure but that Oliver’s compliment had served its purpose. “You look good too.”
And Oliver couldn’t think of anything to say, partly because his brain was long gone and party because he was terrified that if he opened his mouth he’d blurt out something about how fucking fabulous Percy’s legs looked in that stupid skirt and those stupid tights and those horrible, wonderful boots, and then he’d simply die, combust on the spot.
Well, if nothing else, Oliver mused, this was a pretty damn good way to go.