[EN] Renaming Puddlemere

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in early August, and Percy and Oliver were spending their free time the way free time was supposed to be spent; doing absolutely nothing. The sun and blue sky with puffy white clouds had lured them outside, where they were now sprawled out on the grass, Oliver with his head in Percy’s lap. Percy absentmindedly petted Oliver’s hair, half listening to his boyfriend’s ramblings and half wondering who in Merlin’s name was responsible for naming British Quidditch teams. Granted, Montrose Magpies sounded okay, be it not very daunting, but whenever Oliver mentioned the Wigtown Wanderers Percy couldn’t help but envision a group of peaceful, elderly tree-huggers.
      “That’s why I really hope Caulson won’t leave Pride of Portree,” Oliver said, apparently nearing the end of his speech about Quidditch players that were thinking of switching to another team, according to recent rumours. “The Ballycastle Bats would become practically unbeatable, you know?”
      “Yes, definitely,” Percy assured him, feeling slightly guilty he had no idea what he was agreeing to. “Oliver, did you ever wonder why Puddlemere United is called Puddlemere United?”
      “It was founded near Puddlemere. And it just sounded cool, I guess. It beats River Piddle United, anyway - that’s Puddlemere’s hometown.”
      Percy had spent enough time with Oliver to have heard this a million times. “Yes, I know, but why United? All of the other teams seem to have some alliteration in their name-”
      “Some what?”
      “They start with the same consonant. Wigtown Wanders, Falmouth Falcons, Tutshill Tornadoes, Kenmare Kestrals, etcetera, etcetera. Why doesn’t Puddlemere follow that rule? They seem to be the only one.”
      Percy had half expected Oliver to launch into a long and elaborate explanation of the reasoning behind the way the name of his favourite Quidditch team had been chosen, but nothing happened. Oliver stayed silent for so long, Percy started to wonder if he had said anything to offend him.
      “Oliver?”
      “I don’t know.” Oliver sounded fascinated and annoyed at the same time. “I have absolutely no clue. Merlin, Perce, trust you to ask me the one thing about Quidditch I can’t tell you.”
      “O. I’m sorry.”
      Oliver grinned at Percy. “Don’t be. This is interesting. Why isn’t it the Pride of Puddlemere?”
      “Probably because Pride of Portree wouldn’t have been too happy about a team with nearly the same name,” Percy remarked. “You’ll have to be more creative than that if you want to rename Puddlemere.”
      Oliver frowned in that cute way that Percy recognised as his thinking-really-hard face. “Okay, so we need other words starting with P. The United can go, but obviously the Puddlemere has to stay.”
      “Yes,” Percy agreed, letting Oliver think out loud.
      “Words starting with P… Pall?”
      “Puddlemere Palls? Too friendly.”
      “Party- Partiers?”
      “Too lazy.”
      “Professionals?”
      “Too pretentious.”
      “Platypi?”
      “Platypuses. Platypus comes from Greek, not Latin. And no. Just no.”
      “Psychos?”
      “It doesn’t have that P sound to it. Besides, you don’t want to be mistaken for mental patients.”
      “Pixies?”
      Percy just chuckled in answer to that.
      Oliver was starting to look frustrated. “This is difficult.”
      “Are you giving up this easily?” Percy teased him.
      “No.” Oliver took a deep breath and started talking at record speed. “Pillar, poncho, prosecutor, parameter, paprika, pretzel, pickle, peanut, pie-”
      “Are you hungry?” Percy asked, amused. “You’ve started listing off food. I don’t think any Quidditch team would benefit from sounding edible.”
      “But Perce, I’ve-” Oliver’s face lit up. “O!”
      “What?”
      “Percy’s Puddlemere!” Oliver exclaimed triumphantly.
      Percy stopped weaving his fingers through Oliver’s hair. “I don’t own Puddlemere.”
      “All right - Puddlemere Percylovers, then.”
      “Merlin, that’s even worse.”
      Oliver sat upright, getting enthusiastic. “No, it’s not. It’s great! And you know it’s true, Perce, they all like you.”
      “Maybe, but they don’t love me.” Percy blinked. “I really hope they don’t, anyway.”
      “Well, I love you,” Oliver countered, as if that was an argument good enough to stand against all others. Which Percy didn’t agree to, but he had to admit it did soften him considerably.
      “I know. The feeling is mutual.”
      “So you’re an Oliverlover?”
      Percy sighed, admitting defeat. “I guess.”
      Oliver’s grin was radiant. “I love you.”
      “You just said that.”
      “It’s still true.”
      Percy couldn’t help but smile as Oliver leant in for a kiss.