This story attempts to take over fifty years after 'Second Chances' I apologise that it is not funny (or even any good), and it's also a bit short. But without further ado...

"If only"-there was nothing else to think. Seventy years old and still regretting the choices he'd made in his life-always trying so hard to please his family, working hard, at Hogwarts and the Ministry and even marrying...but that thought was too painful. He looked down at his now grey-haired wife lying beside him. "If only" he murmured.

* * * * *

The stooped man sighed and turned. She at least was happy he supposed and 'one out of three ain't bad' wasn't that what they said? But no-even at seventy he wasn't that forgetful, the saying was 'two out of three ain't bad' and that was how it was supposed to have been, the two of them fifty years ago today, so happy. He came back here every year-the redundant corner of the graveyard-still with the hope, the slowly fading but everlasting hope that one year... one year...

* * * * *

The grey-haired woman woke slowly and winced at the arthritic pain in her hip. "Did you say something?" she snapped, jerking the old man out of his stupor. "You know I have trouble sleeping, how could you be so inconsiderate?" without waiting for an answer she turned over sharply and groaned-it would take her ages to get back to sleep now. "Why ever did I marry the man?" silently she pondered the last fifty years, she had always known it had been a sham, why had she stayed? And then the spite clutched at her heart "'till death us do part"

* * * * *

"Oliver?" It was a question-he couldn't help it-could the haggard wreck in front of him really be the handsome boy whose features he had known so well?

"It's me," Oliver's manner was abrupt "the war, it took a lot out of me and after you...I didn't care what happened...I..."

It was with a jolt of surprise that he realised that Oliver was not angry but close to tears. "Oliver" Percy whispered "it was too much, the weight of responsibility, to be what they wanted me to be..."

"It's OK Red" at the use of his pet name, Percy felt like he'd been stabbed through the heart the emotion was too strong, "I knew you wouldn't last-I just treasured up every moment from those brief days."

* * * * *

At Percy's words Oliver's old hatred of the Weasley's flared-they had ruined two lives that could have been so happy. He longed to take the thin, frail man in his arms and comfort him, but Percy had to make the first move.

Oliver had waited forty years; he could wait a little longer.

* * * * *

Penelope turned over and found the bed empty and cold, a physical representation of her married life, whose irony did not escape her. She glanced at the calendar and laughed harshly. "So he finally went." she announced to nobody in particular, "Stupid old fool."

* * * * *

The leaves crunched dryly underfoot as Percy shuffled to a bench and sat down. He remembered the same sound from that day fifty years ago when he had reached out to Oliver after finding him alive-the last day of happiness-that next morning he had fled again run away from his true self. "So you came back." Percy's voice was thick with emotion.

"Of course I came back, how could you think that I wouldn't? Every year for fifty years Percy…" but the tone was not reproachful, just regretful. Percy stepped up to the old man who he once would have known in the dark and enfolded him into his arms.

* * * * *

Standing in Percy's arms Oliver thought his heart would break as the tears flowed unchecked from his eyes. All he wanted was for this moment to last forever.

* * * * *

"Forever-remember our marriage vows Percy? I'm sure that promising to stay faithful doesn't excluded members of the same sex, what do you think Oliver?"

The two lovers sprang apart-faces flushed guilty as schoolboys.

"Hello Penelope" Oliver said wearily

"I prefer Mrs Weasley" she replied venomously and watched with pleasure as the man flinched. "Come along Percy-you'll catch your death out here." ‘‘Till death us do part' the spite rose, bitter as bile, in her soul.

* * * * *

Oh the agony of indecision that tormented Percy. To return to his respectable life and honour his parents memory, or to stay where he would be happy, with the one person who had loved him for who he was…and who he loved.

* * * * *

Stay! Oliver longed to scream the word, to tie Percy to his side and refuse to let him leave again. But to stand any chance of lasting it had to be Percy's decision.

* * * * *

He had decided. He would stay…wouldn't he?

* * * * *

'Come on you old fool, be a man for once, do what you want to do.' Penelope's thoughts, as ever, were full of loathing and contempt for the man she had married, and yet…she did not know what she would do if he left her.

* * * * *

He had decided. He would go…wouldn't he?

* * * * *

So the three stood there, all cold, all lonely beside the empty grave of Oliver Wood. And, slowly, Percy made his choice.

fini.