Solace

~~~~~~~ SOLACE, Part Two ~~~~~~~~







Instead of using the Floo, Percy decided to walk to his flat. It was a pleasant enough early October evening, and he wanted to make a quick stop at the tiny Muggle shop that was only slightly out of his way. Shrinking his robes and carefully placing them in the front pocket of his denims, he stepped through the wards and into the narrow alley that ran alongside The Ministry’s empty Muggle storefront.



He moved from the alley and threaded his way through the lively throng of Muggles. The press of people filling the sidewalks thinned out considerably as he walked along, the unusually warm, gusty breezes picking up his tie and flapping it about. He made several turns down increasingly narrower side streets, making an impulsive detour into a liquor shop. He emerged a few moments later, a bottle of Oban wrapped in a plain brown bag and tucked under his arm. It’d been quite some time since he’d treated himself to the rare scotch, and he dared hope that he’d have the opportunity to share it with a certain someone that very evening.



Several minutes later he was breezing through the narrow aisles of Cooper‘s, filling his basket with various and sundry items that he knew he was out of, and more than a few indulgences that he rarely allowed himself. He frequented the shop sufficiently enough that the owner, Taqi, knew him by name. They chatted amiably about football and the weather while Percy handed over the hastily conjured Muggle currency, Taqi’s two young children underfoot and shrieking with laughter as they circled about the counter before disappearing down an aisleway.



Another few blocks and Percy was climbing the steep steps of his apartment block, pretending to fumble for non-existent keys as he murmured the charm to unlock the double front doors. Once inside the tiled foyer, and ensuring that no one else was about, he Apparated into his flat, where he as immediately accosted by an unusually excited Hermes.



“Hell’s Harpies!” Percy yelped, nearly dropping the Oban along with the rest of his purchases. “Bloody needy this evening, aren’t we?” He blustered past his persistent owl, quickly setting his bags down on the counter that separated the small kitchen from the combination dining area and sitting room. Hermes alighted on the edge of the counter, clicking his beak and hooting importantly.



Percy opened the cold box, grabbing the nearly empty container of Fizzberg’s Fully Ferret Owl Bites and tossing Hermes three of the meaty morsels, one after the other. Shaking his head, he was about to tend to his purchases when Hermes hooted shrilly and flapped over to the nearest window. An instant later, Percy noted the large eagle owl on the other side of the glass, a small parchment envelope held carefully in its beak.



He threw the catch and flung the window open, expecting the post bird to fly inside. It didn’t, merely cocking its head and staring back at him with large, dark eyes. Percy took the proffered envelope, and the owl immediately turned and flapped away. Closing the window, he ran his finger over his name, written across the front of the envelope in a slightly familiar scrawl.



He’d barely torn open the envelope and unfolded the message when his hearth glowed green.



“Well, I see my owl’s just been here.” Harry’s head bobbed lazily in the flames, a sheepish grin on his face. “Mind if I come in?”



Percy swallowed, unable to stop what he knew to be the most ridiculous smile of all time from plastering itself on his features. “Yes, of course, by all means,” he replied, his voice annoyingly hoarse. He was also suddenly very warm, a flush rising from his gut and spreading up his neck and cheeks. He willed himself to remain calm, but his body apparently had other designs.



Harry’s head faded away, and a moment later he stepped from the hearth, smiling and brushing some remaining floo powder from his black t-shirt. He then placed both hands on his hips and made to take in Percy’s flat. “Very nice. Cosy.” He smiled again, turning and walking over to examine Percy’s library, which covered an entire wall of the flat, shelves spanning from floor to ceiling. Harry whistled appreciatively, running a finger along one of the shelves.



Percy stared, note still in hand, his mind clearly having problems registering that Harry was, indeed, standing there in his flat, idly perusing his collection of books. He watched as Harry traced the spines of some of the volumes, finally selecting one and pulling it from the shelf. He opened it and flipped through the pages.



Percy took a few steps closer, his eyes drawn to Harry’s slim but nicely proportioned form. For a long time, especially when the War was in full swing, Harry’d kept his hair very closely shorn, almost shaved. But now it was once again collar-length, shaggy and predictably wild. Percy had to admit the he preferred it long. And while Harry still wore his wire-rimmed spectacles, Percy couldn’t tell at this distance whether the rumours that Harry’d removed his lightning bolt scar were true or not.



He could make out what looked like a portion of a tattoo peeking out from the right sleeve of Harry’s t-shirt, which stretched nicely over his chest and shoulders, tucking into the rather tight, black denims that hugged his narrow arse perfectly. He was wearing some very chunky black boots with rather thick heels. Harry turned sideways, and Percy was shocked to find that he very nearly gasped aloud.



Bloody hell! He was mooning about like some sodding first-year!



Harry flipped the book shut and slid it back into place on the shelf. He smiled again, averting his gaze and taking a few steps closer to Percy. His eyes landed on Percy’s vintage Puddlemere United poster that took up a vary large expanse of wall by the door. “They’re not doing well this year, are they?” He looked back to Percy, his eyes ablaze.



“No,” Percy began, “I mean, I don’t know. Haven’t really been following them lately.” He chuckled nervously, his fingers fiddling with the still unread note. “Overloaded at the office. Always something to chase after.”



Harry nodded. “Well, you’re not missing much. I haven’t been to a match in ages myself.” He smiled again, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his low-slung denims. “And I know what you mean about work. War’s long over, but still more than a few arseholes out there to be rounded up.”



Percy couldn’t help but notice how Harry’s fingertips grazed the slight but noticeable bulge in the front of his denims. “Right, right,” he replied, taking a deep breath and locking gazes with Harry, who grinned crookedly.



“Well, I’ll be…” Harry moved to the corner next to the Puddlemere poster, eyeing Percy’s ancient broomstick with undisguised awe. “Bloody hell, I can’t believe you’ve kept this.” He hefted the broom, balancing it perfectly on one finger. “I can remember the day you got this.” He deftly pulled his finger away, and the broomstick obediently hovered just below his hand. “Comet Mark III’s are extremely rare these days.” He smiled widely, moving his hand in small arcs and circles, the Comet mimicking his moves exactly.



Percy chuckled aloud at Harry’s delight. “I’d no idea the poor old thing was so sought after. Keep anything long enough, and it’ll become valuable, I suppose.” He took a step closer, finding Harry’s smile completely infectious. “Pretty rough shape, I’m afraid.”



Harry easily snatched the broomstick out of the air and carefully returned it to its spot in the corner. “Nah, a bit of spit and polish, and she’d be good as new.” He gazed at Percy, his eyes once again scanning him from head to toe and back again. “You know we’re definitely going flying together, and soon, right?” He jerked his head to the Comet. “You’ve a maintenance kit?”



Percy made a face and shook his head.



“No worries,” Harry replied. “We’ll use mine.”



“Great,” Percy answered, feeling the blush rise from his collar. Again. He watched as Harry’s eyes fell on his covered easel. Oh, bloody boomslang bollocks!



“Here now, what’s this?” Harry pointed to the easel. “You paint? I had no idea.”



Percy’s stomach leapt into his throat. “Well, no, I mean, I do paint,” he stammered, trying in vain to intercept Harry before he could pull the white cotton cover from his easel. “But I’m not very good. Oh, bother,” he sighed as Harry studied his nearly completed painting.



Harry was silent for a very long while as he leaned in and gazed at the picture. He finally stood back, his expression bordering on amazement. “This is bloody beautiful, Percy, truly.”



Percy made a rude noise. “You don’t have to say…”



Harry held up a hand. “No, I don’t, but I will anyway.” He gestured to the painting. “I’m no art critic, that’s a fact, but this is lovely. That’s The Burrow, totally, completely. You’ve captured it perfectly. Late August, right?”



Percy nodded, unable to not notice the easy way the ends of Harry’s mouth so easily curved into a smile, the tiny dimples, the faintest dusting of whiskers on his chin and jaw line. He found himself moving next to Harry, gesturing to the still unfinished bank of grey clouds. “I’ve been working on the thunderheads here, and here. Can’t seem to get them just right.”



Harry furrowed his brow. “They look perfect to me.“ He nodded slightly. “I can almost hear the thunder, and your mum calling us in for tea after a long afternoon at the pond.” He stared at the picture a moment longer before flashing Percy a crooked smile. “Brilliant, Percy.” He laid his hand on Percy’s right forearm. “An artist as well. Who knew?”



Percy actually shivered at Harry’s touch, and he felt the first stirrings of an impending erection. Silently cursing himself, he moved as casually as he could toward the kitchen, where he hoped the counter would sufficiently hide any unwanted developments.



Harry followed, trailing a hand across Percy’s modified Muggle television as he approached the kitchen, his expression turning serious. “But I see that you’ve only just gotten in.” He nodded to the bags of groceries on the counter and the note still clutched in Percy’s hand. “Rather irrelevant now, that is.”



Percy held up the note. “Yes, I’d just walked in the door when the post owl arrived. I hadn‘t had a chance to read it before your firecall.”



Harry waved a hand. “No worries. Just me apologizing for missing you for lunch today, and alerting you that I’d be fire calling sometime before six.”



“Ah, yes, I see,” Percy replied, wincing at how ridiculous he knew he sounded.



Harry chuckled and walked over to stand opposite Percy on the other side of the countertop. “Well, since you haven’t even had a chance to change out of your work clothes, I suppose I should take my leave and come back in an hour or so.”



Percy very nearly agreed to allow Harry to go, but at the last second stopped himself. “No, you needn’t leave. Won’t take me but a moment to change.”



Harry remained silent for a long minute, as if pondering some vast secret. He then grinned slightly and nodded. “If you’re sure,” he said almost playfully.



“Quite,” Percy replied, returning Harry’s smile. “Be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” He rubbed the back of his neck and backed away toward his bedroom, his mind a maddening swirl. He was behaving like a total, complete git. What was wrong with him? Just because the object of his obsessions was standing in his flat, looking more gorgeous than anyone had rights to, was no reason to go completely off the trolley.



Was it?



He closed his bedroom door, quickly untying his tie and pulling his shirt over his head. As he riffled through his closet, he cast rather through cleansing charms on himself, as well as a shaver. “What to wear, what to wear,” he murmured, becoming the slightest bit frantic as he realized that ninety-nine percent of his wardrobe consisted of white oxford shirts and pleated trousers. “Balls!” he huffed, turning around and glancing about his room in near desperation. He then spied his tossed off Puddlemere ringer and the denims he’d worn the previous night at The Belligerent Badger, both balled up on the carpet.



What had Luna said? Stick with Puddlemere? Smiling, Percy extracted his wand and kicked off his trousers, casting cleaning and freshening charms on the t-shirt and denims. He threw them on, found his trainers, and a few moments later, stood in front of the full length mirror in the corner. “Oh, bloody hell,” he murmured, tugging at the collar of the ringer. “Nothing for it,” he sighed, taking a deep breath and opening his bedroom door. He pasted on what he hoped was his best smile and strode out into his sitting room.



Harry was draped across one end of his sofa, boots up on the coffee table, perusing the empty case for Aurors In Love. He turned as the floorboards squeaked, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa and grinning widely.



Sweet Merlin, I could get used to seeing that smile, Percy thought as Harry waggled the WVD case. Drown in it, more like.



Harry licked his lips. “Have you seen the sequel? More Aurors In Love?”



Percy shook his head.



Harry chuckled, placing the case on the coffee table and standing up. “If you like the first one, then you’ll love the new one. Especially the interactive features.” He moved around the sofa, crossing over to Percy.



“Sounds very stimulating,” Percy managed to reply. Harry was right in front of him now, taking him in from head to toe. Percy felt as if he were being devoured somehow, but in the most wonderful way possible.



Harry reached out and traced the faded felt lettering of Percy’s Puddlemere ringer. “Nice shirt,” he said, looking up and smiling again. “I‘ve always been fond of their old logo.” He tilted his head slightly. “And this.” Harry’s fingers ghosted across the side of his head. “Very cool what you‘ve done with your hair. Love the ponytail.”



Percy felt himself blush, instantly embarrassed. “I felt it was time for a change.”



Harry was staring up a him, his eyes deep, probing, greener than Percy’d ever recalled. He could smell Harry’s cologne, something musky with the slightest hint of sandalwood. And just beneath the tangle of black fringe, he could make out the telltale puckery-red of Harry’s scar.



Still there.



He suddenly felt giddy, light-headed, as if he’d just executed a low-altitude Wronski Feint or Apparated in a thunderstorm. He felt himself shift closer to Harry, taking in a deep breath as his hand moved up, seemingly of its own volition, to brush away a portion of Harry’s fringe and gently trace the lightning bolt shape.



Harry’s eyes closed partway and he leaned his forehead into Percy’s fingers, one of Harry’s hands grazing Percy’s hip.



Percy’s gaze moved down to Harry’s right bicep and the portion of tattoo peeking out from beneath Harry’s shirtsleeve. He ran his fingers along the smooth, firm skin of Harry’s upper arm, pushing the black cotton up to reveal the entire design. Harry reached up, his fingers brushing Percy’s as he held his shirtsleeve out of the way.



Percy traced the intricate, black inking. The design resembled a standard Muggle crucifix, but the head of it was oval shaped. He knew he’d seen the design before but couldn’t recall the name at the moment. He caressed the tattoo, drawing breath through slightly parted lips as the muscle of Harry’s upper arm rippled beneath impossibly smooth skin.



“It’s an ankh,” Harry said. “Egyptian cross.”



“Oh, yes,” Percy murmured. “That’s how I recognize it. Bill had a pendant very similar to this.”



Harry nodded while Percy continued to study his tattoo. “Well, that’s the inspiration, really. That, and having spent a few weeks with him while on curse-breaking duty.”



“Means life,” Percy commented, looking up into Harry’s eyes.



“Uh-huh,” Harry murmured. “Life, immortality, the union of male and female, the universe, the merging of heaven and earth. Some ancients believed the ankh could unlock the gates of death, resurrecting those that had passed. The symbol was also used in many ancient wizarding rituals to attempt to revive the dead. Quite a powerful little cross actually.”



Percy swallowed, withdrawing his hand as he felt the familiar pressure in his groin. A few more minutes of this, and he’d be fully hard. He pulled away, chuckling nervously and moving into his kitchen.



“You must excuse me,” he offered, scanning his now barren countertop. “I’ve been a terrible host, not even offering you something to drink.”



Harry stepped right up behind him, nodding to the counter. “Hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of putting away your groceries while you changed. I think I’ve gotten everything in the right place.” He chuckled, running his fingers along the back of Percy’s right arm. “If not, let me know and I’ll submit myself for the appropriate punishment.”



Percy nodded, reaching for the now un-wrapped bottle of Oban. “Oh, well, thank you. Most kind, really.” He was quite a stickler for having a place for everything and everything in its place. And Harry would know that, from all the time spent at the Burrow. He retrieved two juice glasses from his cupboard, placing them next to the bottle of scotch. “Don’t have proper glasses,” he explained, grabbing the neck of the bottle.



Harry’s hand covered his. “Allow me?”



Percy withdrew his hand and Harry proceeded to uncork the bottle, pouring a generous amount of the potent scotch for each of them. He picked up a glass, offering it to Percy with yet another blazing smile.



Percy took his glass, his fingers touching Harry’s for the briefest of moments. “Thanks,” he murmured, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable.



“My pleasure,” Harry replied, clinking his glass to Percy’s. “Cheers.” He took a large swallow of Oban, not even batting an eye as the alcohol went down. He nodded toward Percy’s glass. “Go on.”



Percy paused for a long moment before placing the glass of Oban on the counter.



“You’ve some questions,” Harry said, setting his glass next to Percy’s. “I thought you might.”



“Right, yes, I do,” Percy replied, folding his arms. “This is all so sudden, out of the blue. One minute you walk into the pub, and the next we’re in an alley, my trousers about my ankles and…” He felt his patented Weasley temper flare within, threatening to rise up and out. “I don’t understand where all of this is coming from. It all seems like some sort of…”



“Prank?” Harry finished for him.



“Quite, exactly,” Percy agreed, nodding.



“That’s what Terry said,” Harry responded thoughtfully.



“When did you…”



Harry put up a hand. “When I dropped off my overdue paperwork this morning, and you weren’t there.”



Percy took a deep breath, pressing his lips into a thin line. He could tell Harry had noted the expression.



“He really is a good bloke,” Harry said, taking a step toward Percy, “and a good mate to you. He mentioned how apprehensive you’d been, doubting my intentions, how you actually thought that he had fabricated the entire thing.” He shook his head. “Nothing could be further from the truth, honestly.”



Percy swallowed, averting his gaze to stare at his Muggle coffee machine. “I see. I suppose I’ll have to take you at your word about that.”



Harry snorted. “Well, I hope that you believe me. No real point in continuing if you don‘t.” When Percy didn’t respond, he threw up his hands. “I knew from the start that it’d be difficult to demonstrate my sincerity.”



“You could have simply approached me and asked,” Percy shot back, moving toward Harry. “I don’t take anything for granted, you know.”



Harry rolled his eyes. “Right, right, you have trust issues,” he said sardonically. ‘Merlin forbid you keep an open mind.”



Percy laughed. “I’d submit that if I didn’t have an open mind, you wouldn’t be standing in my flat right now. It’s just that…”



Harry closed his eyes and held up his hand again. “Enough, okay?” When he opened them again, he stared at the floor. “This isn‘t how I wanted this to go. Sorry.” He whirled about and strode for the fireplace. When he reached the hearth, he paused, slowly looking back at Percy with an odd expression that lay somewhere between anger and disappointment.



Percy held his breath, the stubborn, prideful portion of his mind opting to allow Harry to leave, while the usually subdued emotional side was literally screaming for him to keep Harry there, to say something, anything. Harry must have gleaned some outward sign as a result of his inner turmoil, as he stood there for a few moments longer, his expression now unreadable. Percy walked into his sitting room, placing both his hands on the back of the sofa. “Don’t leave, please,” he said in a near whisper. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to believe that you might actually fancy me.” He looked up, locking gazes with Harry, who had turned about and was walking toward him.



“I understand, Percy, really I do,” Harry replied as he sat on the arm of the sofa nearest Percy. “I’ve known you and your family for more than half of my life. You’ve all been the home, the family I never had. You’re like a brother to me.”



Percy cleared his throat. “I’m unsure as to how that helps to clarify things.”



Harry chuckled. “Good point.” He stood and moved next to Percy. “So here it is then.” He trailed his fingers along Percy’s right forearm. “I do fancy you. Very much, obviously, as otherwise, I would subject myself to your intensive analysis and scrutiny. I know we have a great deal of history to sort through, but I’m more than willing to try, if you are.” He stepped very close, his green eyes clear and bright. “What do you say, then?”



Percy stood up and turned toward Harry, who pressed closer to him. He looked down and carded the fingers of one hand through Harry’s hair. “Can’t say that you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he replied.



Harry grinned. “I can say the same for you. I can be moodier than Bill and my temper’s as hot as any Weasley‘s.”



It was Percy’s turn to chuckle. “True enough.”



Harry pulled back slightly. “Ready for that drink now?” Not waiting for Percy’s response, he put out his hand and the glass of Oban floated right into it. “Cheers?”



Percy took the glass, hefted it for a moment, and then downed it in one gulp. He blew out a breath, sending the glass back to the kitchen. “So.”



Harry nodded. “So.”



Percy stared into Harry’s eyes, his hand barely caressing Harry’s hip. Gods, but the man was attractive, all lithe muscleyness and musky sandalwood, barely pressing his most lovely body ever closer. Percy felt a long-protected barrier fall away, the first of many that would need to be demolished if he were truly to let Harry in. Wouldn’t it be easier to let all of it go? Did it make sense to expend so much energy keeping people out, energy that could be put to better use elsewhere? Harry grinned again, his expression so warm and open that Percy held his breath for a moment.



“So,” Harry repeated, reaching up and trailing a finger down the centre of Percy’s chest. “Are you at all hungry?”



Percy found himself nodding slowly. “Famished,” he replied softly.



“Brilliant,” Harry replied, his finger now resting on the waistband of Percy’s denims. “I’d like to take you to one of my favourite restaurants. It’s a bit of a journey to get there, but I think you’ll like it. We’ll talk some more, have a great meal, and if nothing else, perhaps we can at least become friends.”



“I’d like that, Harry,” Percy said. “We’ve a lot of ground to cover.”



“Indeed,” Harry said with a smile.



“Give me a moment to change into something more appropriate,” Percy replied, turning toward his room.



“You needn’t bother, really. It’s a fine restaurant, but also casual. I know the owner.” He smiled crookedly as Percy nodded. “Besides, you look just fabulous, really.”



Percy felt himself blush. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, and then, “Thank you.”



“No problem,” Harry answered. “I can recall when Bill gave you that shirt for your sixteenth birthday.” He cleared his throat. Ready?”



“Now? Yes, of course. Should I bring a jacket?”



Harry shook his head. “We’ll be traveling by Floo most of the way.” He stepped to the hearth and grabbed a handful of floo powder. “Heathrow International,” he called out as he threw the powder and stepped into the green flames.



Percy hesitated only a moment before following.





~~~~~





Once at Heathrow, he and Harry made their way to the Portkey gates. Percy had used portkeys before, of course, but never for extremely long distances. He and Harry waited with a small handful of other magicals, all circled about a large, chipped Guinness pitcher on a simple grey pedestal. The floating orange letters above it proclaimed the departure time, as well as the destination: La Guardia International, New York, USA.



They waited in silence, Percy standing very close to Harry while the other travellers talked excitedly amongst themselves. After several minutes, a chime sounded and the floating lettering changed to red, flashing the countdown to activation: ten...nine...eight...seven...



Harry grinned and nodded toward the pitcher; Percy leaned in, tentatively laying two fingers on the pitcher\'s rim...four...three...Harry\'s fingers then covered his own...two...one...



The portkey pulled on him suddenly, per usual, but this jump was much stronger, deeper, threatening to pull his very insides out. He glanced to Harry, who smiled and clasped his hand tightly. The transition continued on and on, the rushing of air in his ears and the twisting of his stomach almost to much to bear. Must not faint, must not faint he chanted to himself, and he closed his eyes in the hopes that it would help diminish the unpleasant sensation. It didn’t help, but he kept them closed until the pulling sensation abruptly stopped. His stomach lurched into his chest as he opened his eyes and they dropped to the landing mats, Harry deftly steadying him so that he didn’t fall to his knees. When he looked up past Harry’s smiling face, he saw golden letters blazing overhead: Welcome to La Guardia International and The United States. Local time is 2:43 pm EDST. Enjoy your stay.



Percy caught his breath and nodded to the resident mediwitch who smiled and moved beyond him while he and Harry stepped out onto the narrow concourse. Wizards and Witches of every age, shape and nationality bustled about, and Harry gestured to their right. He followed, and in an uncharacteristic display of public affection, he draped his arm about Harry\'s waist.



Harry looked up at him quizzically.



Percy shrugged. “I’m still a bit queasy, and we are in a foreign land,” he offered sheepishly, leaning gratefully on Harry as they made their way toward the dedicated Apparition portals.



After a quick check-in and declaration with an overly effusive customs witch, he and Harry waited in the slowly moving queue toward the bank of portals. As they neared the head of the line, Percy noted how the portals here were stark and utilitarian, plain, grey cubicles with no ornamentation whatsoever. When their turn came, he followed Harry across the expanse of pale blue carpeting to a small cubicle at the far end of the huge space.



Harry faced him, pulling him in closely. He embraced Harry in response, taking a deep breath as Harry Apparated them away.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~





Percy breathed in the warm, moist air, at once surprised at how different it was. It certainly could become quite sticky in Britain over the summer, but this tropical air was quite surprising. And more than a bit humid. Good thing it was mostly cloudy or else he\'d have to try and recall how to cast a sun blocking charm. He reached for his glass of wine and reclined in the high back rattan chair, his knee touching Harry\'s. As he sipped on the wine, the never-ending stream of automobiles and tourists moved by on the street just below their second floor vantage point.



They\'d Apparated into a ground floor room at the La Concha hotel in a place called Key West in Florida. The room looked like any other Muggle hotel room that he‘d seen, save that this one was perpetually reserved as a dedicated Apparition point. Harry had eagerly led him through the ornate lobby and onto the sidewalk, where the warm, ocean air had hit him like a blast furnace. As they made their way through the milling throng of mostly Muggles, Harry explained that he\'d spent a great deal of time in the area searching for one of Voldemort\'s horcruxes. After a few weeks, he\'d discovered that the horcrux in question had been taken to California, where he, Ron and Hermione had finally located and destroyed it.



The press of people was a bit more than Percy cared for, but he had to admit that it was somewhat exciting nonetheless. And everything was so bloody, well, American, big, loud, colourful, and well over the top. Many of the passersby wore rather garish, floral print clothing, and more than a few were definitely overdone by the sun. He also noticed a rather large number of blokes walking hand in hand or arm in arm. Obviously this was one of those places he\'d hear about where poufs were at least tolerated, if not accepted. Harry had nonchalantly draped his arm about his waist, slipping his fingers into the back pocket of his denims.



They\'d passed what seemed to be a never ending stream of shops, guesthouses, pubs, restaurants and outdoor cafes. Percy pointed to an establishment named the Hog\'s Breath Saloon; Harry\'d confirmed that it was indeed a Wizarding establishment.



The crowds had dwindled a bit as they neared the eastern end of Duvall Street, and they\'d darted between the autos to the other side. A few more blocks, and they\'d entered a modest little bistro called Armand\'s. He\'d been impressed how quickly and warmly Harry\'d been welcomed by the bartender; barely a moment later Armand himself had greeted Harry enthusiastically, the short, smiling Muggle chef shaking both of their hands vigourously. Then, they\'d been escorted up a wide spiral staircase, through what looked like a piano bar of some sort, and out onto an outdoor patio with full views of the busy street below and a glimpse of the Atlantic between the palm trees.



Armand had taken their orders and served them himself, literally beaming when Percy had complimented him on the deliciousness of the meal. They\'d taken their time, making small talk as they ate, both of them sorrowfully refusing to partake of any of the enticing choices on the desert tray.



It was now half-five, and Percy was more comfortable than he\'d felt in ages. He drained his glass of wine, reaching for the bottle to find it empty.



"Oh, sorry, I hadn\'t noticed," Harry apologized, signalling for another bottle.



"Not a problem." He glanced at Harry, who was smiling that smile again. The one that said he had nothing to fear. "Thank you for a delightful meal, Harry. This is exquisite." He gestured over the railing of the patio. "A bit too busy for my tastes, but lovely nonetheless."



"My pleasure," Harry replied as the server brought the wine. "I wanted to take you someplace you\'d never been before."



"This certainly qualifies. First time out of Britain, you know."



Harry nodded, studying Percy’s expression. "You don\'t care for it."



"No, I mean, of course," Percy said. "Forgive me, I don\'t mean to sound ungrateful, but it\'s all been a bit much to take in properly."



Harry scooted his chair closer. "Nothing to forgive, really. I understand what you\'re saying. We\'ll take things at your pace. I\'m pants at this sort of thing, though," he sighed.



"You\'re fine, truly," Percy answered. "And you know how horrid we Weasleys are about talking about our feelings."



"Oh yeah, I do indeed," Harry agreed. "Must be one of the things that attracts me to them, I reckon."



Percy sat back as Harry filled his glass. He reached for it, taking a rather large swallow of the wine.



Harry watched him intently, leaning an elbow on the table and propping his head on his closed fist. He reached over and trailed a finger along Percy\'s denim clad thigh.



Percy took another drink of wine and set his glass down. "So, why me, then?"



Harry looked up. "I fancy you, Percy. I\'ve told you that."



"So what about Ron? Should I assume that I\'m some sort of replacement for him now that he\'s off surfing or whatever it is he\'s doing in Australia?"



“Surfing, of all things.” Harry nodded and sat up. "Fair question, though. I was expecting it, actually."



"And?"



Harry filled his own glass and downed the entire thing in several swallows. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he sat back and stared at Percy for several moments. "I love your brother, Percy. Very much. I suppose I sort of fell for him that very first day on the Hogwarts Express. Not in a romantic way, of course."



"You both were only eleven, after all."



"Exactly," Harry agreed. "But Ron immediately took me in, made me feel like I was a part of something, like I belonged. I’d never had anything like that. He taught me most everything I know about the Wizarding World, showed me what it was like to be in a family, what it felt like to be loved."



"Go on."



"Well, you know the rest. You were there for most of it, off to the side, pretending to read or scratch away at some homework assignment, but you knew what was going on."



"I never pretended to do anything," Percy said defensively. "I\'m extraordinarily proficient at multi-tasking is all."



Harry chuckled. "Fine, as you say, then."



"So eventually you realized that you loved Ron. Romantically"



"Yeah. Especially after the Tri-Wizard Tournament."



"And that you were queer."



"Right, of course," Harry replied. "I\'d known I was different for a long time, but, well, you know exactly what I\'m speaking of."



"Yes. I\'m loathe to say it, but I\'d always suspected that you and Ron were a bit more than simply mates."



Harry shook his head, filling his glass again. "But that\'s just it, Percy. Ron and I were always best mates, but for the longest time, I was the only one who wanted it to be more than that. It wasn\'t until the end of sixth year, after Dumbledore was murdered, that I finally brought things out into the open. When I told Ron exactly how I felt about him."



Percy arched an eyebrow. "And?"



"You know Ron."



Percy cleared his throat. "Indeed."



"I could tell he wasn\'t entirely comfortable with being queer, let alone having the entire Wizarding World find out that he was shagging The Boy Who Lived to Suck Cock."



"Succinctly put," Percy observed, stifling laughter as he sipped his wine. "Ron always was a bit, well, how do they say? Up tight?"



"Everyone handles it differently. Ron finally admitted to himself about who and what he was, and we made a lot of headway while we hunted up the horcruxes with Hermione." Harry turned his head to gaze up Duvall Street. "Ron didn\'t care for Key West, either. Another way he\'s a lot like you."



Percy sat back in his chair, his wine glass perched on one knee. Harry seemed to be waiting for something; what, he didn\'t know. "So then the War comes along, and throws everything to the Four Winds."



Harry nodded. "I barely heard from Ron for most of those three years. There were times when I didn\'t know if he were alive or dead. But we were assigned to the same unit for the last six months or so, right before the end."



"And then it was over, you were a hero, and then what?"



Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "It was funny, but after all we\'d been through, all the death and destruction and loss, all the pain, when we\'d found that we\'d survived, things were even worse than before."



"What do you mean? I\'d heard that you two actually shared a flat for a short time after Voldemort was destroyed."



"You said it yourself. I was a fucking war hero, my picture plastered all over the front pages of The Prophet, The Quibbler, Witches Weekly and even Triple Q, for Circe\'s sake."



"And Ron didn\'t want to risk having such a well-know Wizard for his consort."



Harry chuckled. "I suppose that could have been part of it, but he was a bit changed from the War. We both were. Neither one of us were virginal anymore, that was a sure and certain fact." He sipped his wine. "No, it was something else. You recall how he reacted when my name flew out of the Goblet of Fire?"



Percy nodded.



"Well, this was worse. Much, much worse. Ron\'s always had a problem with jealousy. He\'d never talk about it, but it seems to consume him. He just couldn\'t deal with all the attention I was getting. It ate away at him, day after day, week after week. He\'s got the Weasley temper in spades, and I don\'t think there was a single object in our flat that I hadn\'t performed at least one Reparo on."



"He never..."



Harry waved a hand. "Merlin, no, he never hurt me. Never tried. Much worse than that, much worse. Always took things out on himself."



"What did he do?"



"Well, at first it was firewhiskey. Then, he\'d go out alone, sometimes not returning until the next morning, bruised, bloody, stinking. I knew he was shagging nameless blokes. Nothing I could do at that point, Merlin knows I tried. Then, near the end, before he left, that\'s when I noticed the scars."



Percy shook his head. “His scars? I don’t understand.”



Harry took a deep breath. “I don‘t mean the scars he got from the War. These were new, fresh.”



“Merlin,” Percy sighed, swallowing some more wine.



"Yeah. He was cutting himself,” Harry confirmed. “Not easy to notice, with all the scars he already had. But I did finally figure it out. When I confronted him with it, he flew into a rage. He was really hurting, but he wasn’t rational. He left the flat, coming back the next morning. But he’d closed me off, shut me out. That‘s when I realized it was too late." Harry again finished his glass of wine. "I just couldn\'t stay there and watch. I love him with all my heart, Percy, but I wouldn\'t be a party to his self-destruction. He wouldn\'t let me in. There was no one else to turn to; your Mum and Dad were still reeling from Fred and Ginny, Bill was off with Remus in Slovenia, and Charlie was still in St. Mungo\'s. There wasn\'t anything I could do. So I left. And then so did Ron."



Percy shifted in his seat, reaching out for Harry\'s hand. "I had no idea it was that horrible."



Harry stared him directly in the eye. "No, you wouldn\'t. You may have cut yourself off from your family, but they never closed the door on you. Not completely."



Percy stiffened immediately. "We are not discussing my relationship with my family."



Harry nodded. "Didn\'t think you\'d want to."



"I don\'t."



"Fine."



"Agreed, then," Percy shot back, draining his wine. "So, it sounds like the only reason that you\'re here with me is because my sodding younger brother is little more than a basket case, not to mention half the world away."



Harry paused a long time before answering. "I\'ll be totally honest then," he began. "You\'re right, of course. If Ron had been more secure with his self image, if he\'d been a bit less concerned with what people think, if he\'d been a bit less fucked up from the War; yeah, we\'d still be together." He waved for another bottle of wine. "But we\'re not together now, if we ever really were. And I don\'t see us trying again. There\'s something that he needs that I can\'t give him. Part of me wants to try again, to make it right, but deep down, I know it wouldn’t work. So here we are, and all you\'ve got to decide is whether you want to give it a go or not."



"Just that simple, yes? Move from one brother to the next, just like that?"



Harry growled. “Don‘t be daft, of course it‘s not simple. But how many times must I say that I fancy you, Percy? That perhaps I always have?"



Percy shrugged. "Same question I asked earlier then: why me?" He knew he was being overly difficult with Harry, but something in the back of his head was secretly miffed at playing second seat to Ron. He watched as Harry licked his lips and folded his arms.



"Because I think you\'re a lot like me, that\'s why. Because I feel that you and I understand each other on a basic level, that we both know what it\'s like to be different, apart, outcasts if you will. We\'ve both had to go it alone for a great portion of our lives, and that\'s defined what we are. I used to watch you when I spent time at The Burrow. You were alone because you chose to be, and that always fascinated me."



"I just didn\'t fell like I belonged, to be honest. I wasn\'t into Quidditch like the others were. I never minded being alone. Pretty good at it, actually. I\'d always enjoyed reading. Still do."



Harry leaned forward. "But you adore Quidditch, Percy, don\'t try to tell me otherwise. I know. I watched you fly from Ron\'s window more times than I can count. Late at night. Alone. When you thought no one was watching. But I was."



Percy stared. "I really wasn\'t that good," he protested, filling his glass.



"Sure you were. You\'d have been fabulous on the Gryffindor House team. You always declined to play with your brothers because if you did, if you joined in, then you\'d lose your individuality. You\'d be just another red-headed Weasley at Hogwarts."



"You\'ve certainly given this some thought," Percy said softly. "And you’re right about Quidditch. But I decided to dedicate myself to my studies. Twelve OWLS. A Weasley record.” He nodded to Harry. “So that\'s your rationale, then?"



"Some of it," Harry admitted. "You\'re really making me work here, you know that?"



Percy allowed a small chuckle. "Is that what I\'m doing?"



"Let me tell you the rest, then," Harry said. "You were different, Percy, and you knew it. And instead of fighting it, you embraced it. You made it your own. I learned a lot from you, truly."



Percy blinked. "You can\'t be serious."



Harry nodded. "Bloody hell, will you quit doubting me? Just listen! You worked hard, but never really got the attention you deserved. You stuck to your guns during hard times, and when things went wrong, you never backed down. Sure, there might have been some tiny sign that Scrimgeour was actually a glamoured Voldemort, but even his closest friends, his own sister for fuck\'s sake, didn\'t know the difference, couldn\'t tell until it was too late."



Percy waved a hand. "I\'m pleased you understand. You\'re certainly one of the few. I\'d no idea you saw us as such kindred spirits."



"I do, really," Harry replied. "I mean, look at that dog\'s misery you\'re stuck with in the basement. And that fucking converted broom closet of mine. Someone at The Ministry has a truly warped sense of humour."



"Too right, that," Percy agreed.



"And there\'s more, too," Harry said, leaning in very close and throwing his arm about Percy\'s shoulders. "I\'ve always had a thing for ginger hair, and tall blokes with pale, grey eyes." He breathed into Percy\'s ear. "And I swear your arse is much nicer than Ron\'s."



Percy shuddered slightly, one of his hands running along Harry\'s inner thigh. "Forgive me, but now I’m certain that’s the wine talking.”



Harry snorted. “It’s not the wine.” His fingertips teased the denim of Percy’s crotch.



Percy nodded. “All right then. But I\'m not certain that your friend Armand would appreciate such a display in his fine establishment." He leaned his head against Harry\'s. "I\'m sure you know of someplace suitable."



Harry\'s tongue darted out to tease the shell of Percy\'s ear. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."



“Excellent,” Percy murmured as Harry suddenly leaned in and pressed their lips together. He immediately returned Harry’s advance with relish, closing his eyes and tilting his head slightly, allowing Harry’s persistent tongue to have its way. Harry’s lips were soft and deliciously sweet, the lingering after-taste of the wine a perfect enhancement. Percy moaned as Harry’s hand worked its way along the inside of his thigh. Then he sensed someone was standing at their table. His eyes snapped open and he pulled away, sitting up to stare at a definitely bemused and smiling Armand.



Harry cleared his throat and picked up his glass of wine, winking at Armand, who chuckled heartily.



“I trust you gents enjoyed the meal, then?” Armand asked, meaty hands planted on his hips. He winked at Harry before nodding to Percy. “I certainly hope we’ll be seeing you again, and soon.”



Percy looked at Harry who was staring back at him from under heavily lidded eyes. “Everything was delightful, sir,” Percy said. “My compliments.”



“Please, it’s Armand,” the smiling chef insisted.



Percy nodded as Harry sat up, unfolding some odd-looking Muggle currency.



Armand shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you, that’s no good here.”



“Are you sure?”



“Yeah,” Armand replied with a crooked grin. “Remember our arrangement? Now, feel free to sit back and relax as long as you’d like.” He glanced up at the darkening sky. “Looks like rain, though, so I’ve set aside a table for you in the lounge.”



“Thanks,” Harry replied.



“Don’t mention it,” Armand said. “Oh, uh, will you be staying in town tonight? I can have Darren run over and open up your place if you are.”



Harry shot Percy a glance, pausing for a long moment before looking back to Armand.



Before Harry could speak, Percy answered for him. “That’d be brilliant, Armand, thank you.” He winked at Harry, whose eyes went wide.



Armand bowed slightly and bustled off.



Harry shook his head. “Full of surprises this evening,” he observed wryly. “I was certain you’d want to return to London. Workday tomorrow and all that.”



Percy raised both eyebrows. “I believe I’m long overdue for a mental health day. You have a house here, apparently,” Percy offered, draining his glass.



“Yeah. More like a bungalow, really. Nothing flash.” Harry put down his glass and stood up. “Want to see it?”



Percy rose from his chair to stand behind Harry. “Absolutely.” He nuzzled the side of Harry’s head. “Lead on.”



They made their way through the now crowded piano bar and down the spiral staircase, stopping for moment as Armand bade them farewell, hugging them both before returning to his kitchen. They stepped out onto the sidewalk, with Harry leading them back down Duvall, east toward the ocean. The heavy cloud cover had brought dusk quite early, and there were the faintest grumbles of thunder off in the distance behind them. Harry made several turns down increasingly narrower streets, some little more than alleyways.



“So,” Percy began, “Armand knows you’re a wizard?”



“Yeah,” Harry replied. “His mum was a squib, and she married a Muggle. Quite a few like Armand out there. McGonagall gave me a short list of contacts when she sent us here, and Armand was the only one willing to get involved. He was born and raised in the area, so he was extremely helpful when we were hunting down that last horcrux.”



“Quite the fellow,” Percy commented. “Very risky for a Muggle to do that. Completely defenseless.”



Harry chuckled. “Right. Fortunately, we were able to flush out all the Death Eaters relatively quickly. It got dicey for awhile, but everyone came out with only a few scars to boast of. And The Ministry assigned two full-time interns here to keep an eye on things.”



Percy nodded. “I’m familiar with that program. Least The Ministry can do, and it provides excellent, on-the-job training. I assume this Darren is one of us?”



“Yeah,” Harry replied, pulling Percy in close as they walked. “Decent bloke, but very, very young.”



Percy nodded, grinning slightly. Just then, a chicken squawked and bolted across the narrow street. He jumped, coming to a halt as another bird emerged from the underbrush and followed the first one. “Um, Harry, what’s with the chickens?”



Harry chuckled. “They run wild here. The climate is such that they can live comfortably on their own year-round. Odd, but I sort of like it.”



“Interesting place, I’ll grant you that,” Percy replied.



They walked in silence for a bit longer, arm in arm, until Harry stopped and indicated the rough lettering painted on a telephone post. “This way,” he said, jerking his head down the narrow gravel track.



“Surrey Street?” Percy asked, no small amount of amusement in his voice.



Harry merely chuckled as they walked on, passing low walls, fences and gates of various shapes, sizes and conditions. Percy could make out small cottage-like houses set back from the street, all shrouded in dense tropical vegetation and palm trees. It was hard to believe that the heady press of Duvall Street was just a few blocks away. Up ahead, he could see that Surrey ended in a very tiny cul-de-sac, with a tall stucco wall forming an inverted semi-circle most of the way around it. An unmarked, splintered wooden gate divided the wall in two nearly equal halves.



Harry gestured to the gate. “Welcome to number thirteen, Surrey Street.” He lifted the rusty iron latch and pushed the gate open. “After you,” he rumbled.



Percy stepped through into what he imagined that during daylight hours was a well-shaded palm grove. Now, however, it was nearly full dark. The quality of light was almost surreal, with an odd, reddish cast. He could just make out a gravel path snaking its way through the trunks, and perhaps one hundred yards ahead, the unmistakable glow of lamplight, Harry’s bungalow, no doubt. Lightning flashed and thunder grumbled, louder and closer.



He heard the gate clank shut, and then a moment later, two hands snaked around his waist. He felt Harry’s warm breath on the back of his neck.



“Not much to see in the dark,” Harry murmured, pressing his groin into Percy’s arse.



Percy turned about, more lightning illuminating the lenses of Harry’s glasses as he pulled Harry in tight. “I’m sure it’s all lovely,” he murmured, tilting his head and kissing Harry deeply. He slid one hand down the back of Harry’s denims as Harry kneaded his own arse firmly. They moaned into each other’s mouths as more lightning flashed, thunder cracking almost immediately afterward.



The steady, sharp ticks of rain against the canopy of palm fronds increased rapidly, becoming a heavy downpour. Percy broke their kiss as lightning flashed three times in succession. “Bloody hell!” he yelped, both of them instantly soaked through.



“Yeah,” Harry replied, leaning up to kiss him again.



Percy melted into the kiss, the rain, lightning, and thunder fading away until there was nothing but Harry. Nothing but Harry’s warm, soft lips on his, nothing but Harry’s questing tongue probing his mouth, nothing but Harry’s calloused hands untucking his shirt and exploring the topography of his lower back. Nothing but Harry holding him closer, Harry’s erection pressing against his thigh. He was drowning, willingly, in a deluge of Harry, and he never wanted it to end.



He moaned into Harry’s mouth, his hands sliding up and under Harry’s t-shirt. He slowly ground his hips into Harry’s abdomen, his fully erect cock suddenly demanding release. Slowly, the thundershower reasserted itself into Percy’s perception, and he shivered. He wasn’t certain if it was from the suddenly cool gusts of wind or from the delicious manipulations of Harry’s lips, tongue, and fingers.



Harry must have sensed Percy’s need, as he pulled away and smiled, his long fringe plastered to his forehead, his glasses hopelessly fogged. “Let’s get inside, yeah?,” he said, jerking his head toward his bungalow. “I need to get you out of those clothes before I explode.” He smiled again, tugging gently on Percy’s hand.



Percy nodded and they both jogged through the dim palm grove toward warm square of light ahead. The rain had lessened somewhat, but was still falling quite heavily. Percy stood very close while Harry dropped the wards and unlocked the front door. He followed Harry inside, his arms about Harry’s waist. Percy scanned the small sitting room quickly, noting the fire burning in the hearth and the handful of candles spaced about the room.



More lightning flashed as the stiffening breeze ruffled the curtains covering the half-open windows. Letting go of Harry, he stepped up to the small mantel, immediately drawn to the collection of photos displayed there. Many were copies of those that Harry kept in his desk drawer in his office. He turned about to find Harry closing and latching the pair of windows on the west side of the bungalow. “This is delightful, Harry,” he said, moving across the bare wood floor.



Harry shrugged and glanced about the room. “Thanks. Armand was nice enough to offer the property to me at a fair price. Don’t spend enough time here, though.” He moved towards Percy, the fire and candlelight reflected in the lenses of his glasses. He chuckled softly, gesturing to the candles. “Darren’s outdone himself tonight. The git.”



Percy ran a finger down the centre of Harry’s damp t-shirt, stopping when it reached the large brushed nickel buckle of his belt. “Nice to have friends you can count on so,” he said quietly, his breath suddenly hitching in his chest. “I’d imagine you go through quite a few candles. Can‘t be any shortage of blokes that fancy you.” He regretted speaking the words the instant they left his mouth.



There was still the smallest, tiniest voice in the deepest recesses of his mind that remained the cynic, untrusting, vehemently refusing to believe that Harry was sincere, that Harry was truly interested in him. He took a deep breath, willing that nattering little bastard to silence. He did want to believe; he wanted to trust Harry, to let it all go and fall into those wonderfully muscled arms, to bury his head against Harry’s chest and just be.



Harry looked down to the floorboards. “Oh, sure, blokes hit on me all the time.” He looked up, his expression more than a bit thoughtful. “I’ve no reason to think that you’ll believe me, but there hasn’t been anyone since your brother. I haven’t really wanted there to be one.” He traced the lettering on Percy’s shirt. “Until now.”



Percy took Harry’s hand, gently bringing it up to his lips and suckling each knuckle in turn. He let Harry’s hand drop then, stepping closer and leaning his forehead on Harry’s. “I’m not at all certain how to proceed from here. I’ve been with fellows, of course, but never...”



“No worries,” Harry murmured, his hands clamping on Percy’s hips. “We’ll just take it as it comes. One day at a time.”



“All right,” Percy replied, un-tucking Harry’s t-shirt and lifting it slowly.



Harry tensed immediately.



“What?” Percy asked, Harry’s shirt barely half-way over his stomach.



“I should warn you,” Harry said so softly it was difficult for Percy to make out the words over the rain and wind. “I didn’t survive the War unscathed. I’m...” his voice trailed off as he removed his glasses and set them on a nearby side table. He then lifted the t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the back of the sofa.



Percy backed away a few steps, in order to get a better view. The flickering light from the hearth illuminated Harry’s bare upper body. He took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip as Harry planted both fists on his hips and stared out the nearest window. The scarring was deep and extensive. It began several inches below Harry’s left pectoral, spreading up to and beyond the centre of his chest and stopping just below his collarbone. The dark, puckered flesh wrapped around his left shoulder and under his arm.



“Sweet Merlin,” Percy murmured, his breath suddenly short, as if all the air had been pulled from the room. He’d never seen such scarring before, leastways on a living person. The force of the curse that had caused such damage was unimaginable. And that Harry had survived such an onslaught...it boggled Percy’s already overloaded mind.



Harry had slipped his glasses back on, his eyes wide and bright as they gauged Percy’s reaction.



Percy lifted his hand up slowly, his fingers barely grazing the blackened skin. He started as Harry gasped.



“Sorry,” Percy said, pulling his hand away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”



“You didn’t. Just a bit sensitive.”



“Indeed.”



“More ticklish than anything,” Harry admitted.



“How?”



“Riddle,” Harry asnwered simply. “I was in the Trauma Ward at St. Mungo’s for nearly six months. Thank Circe they never gave up on me.”



“Six months? I thought it was only a few weeks.”



Harry chuckled. “The Ministry’s Obfuscation Division worked overtime on that one.”



Percy stepped closer. “Oh, Harry. Dear, Harry.” He lifted Harry’s chin. “It’s fully healed, then?”



Harry snorted. “Not exactly. In remission, you could say. The withering curse had so insinuated itself into my ambric signature that all that could be done was to induce stasis on the affected areas. Dark Magic, you know.” He glanced down at his chest. “It was barely the size of a galleon at first. Madame Monkshood, the head of the Dark Curses Department at St. Mungo’s, is absolutely certain she’s only a few months away from finding the cure. Until then, the advance of the curse is so small I can barely notice it.” He averted his gaze to stare at the fireplace. “I actually considered glamouring myself...but then I felt that you should know the truth before...before, well...in case it might make a difference. I‘ll understand if you want to leave now.”



Percy leaned in and kissed Harry’s forehead. “No, I don’t want to leave. And it doesn’t make a difference.” He caressed Harry’s chest. “At all.”



Harry embraced him tightly and buried his head in Percy’s chest.



Percy hugged back in kind, tracing small circles on Harry’s bare back. They held each other for many long moments, the thunderstorm continuing full force outside. Percy kissed the top of Harry’s head. Harry then pulled away and walked across the sitting room, opening one of the doors on the wall opposite the hearth. Percy followed, closing the door behind him. Harry stood at the foot of a huge brass bed, facing him. Lightning flashed and thunder roiled, the rain pummelling the roof of the small bungalow. Percy removed his glasses and made to lift off his Puddlemere t-shirt.



“Here, let me,” Harry said, walking over and carefully lifting Percy’s shirt up and over his head. He tossed it away and ran his hands over Percy’s lean and lightly furred chest. He bent forward, licking and laving at one of Percy’s mounded nipples, eventually sucking on it with relish.



Percy gasped as Harry suckled him, Harry’s teeth nibbling the sensitive nub of flesh and eliciting louder yelps of pleasure from him. Harry pulled away and deftly released the button and zip of his denims. The next moment they were shoved down below his hips, with Harry licking along the thin line of ginger hair that ran down the centre of his belly. Harry dropped to his knees, burying his face into Percy’s boxers and nuzzling his erection through the thin cotton fabric.



“Oh, gods,” Percy moaned, running his fingers through Harry’s damp hair. He stumbled backward as Harry pushed him against a tall bureau. He steadied himself as Harry removed his trainers and pulled off his denims. Harry stood up, one hand on his erect, boxer-clad cock while the other fumbled with the fasteners of his own denims.



Percy reached over and assisted Harry, undoing the zip while Harry wriggled out of the jeans and kicked them away.



Percy ran his hands over Harry’s hips, the smooth, almost slick sensation of Harry’s skin-tight Muggle undershorts deliciously arousing. His fingers brushed against the outline of Harry’s thick erection, which was threatening to burst forth from the waistband of the under shorts.



Harry lunged at him then, savagely claiming his lips in an all-encompassing kiss. Harry’s tongue invaded his mouth, and he willingly granted Harry access. He scrunched down somewhat so that their erections were more or less on the same level, grinding his hips into Harry’s.



Harry growled into his mouth and responded in kind, his hands squeezing and massaging Percy’s arse. Percy thrust his hands down Harry’s back and into Harry’s shorts, his fingers exploring the impossibly smooth contours of Harry’s arse. The next instant, Harry broke their kiss and slid down Percy’s body, roughly yanking Percy’s boxers down as he dropped to his knees.



Grabbing Percy’s cock with one hand while the other teased the crack of Percy‘s arse, Harry closed his mouth over the head of Percy’s prick, swirling his tongue in a deliciously intricate dance. He expertly teased the slit of Percy’s cock while his hand stroked the length of the erect shaft in a steady rhythm.



Percy threw his head back as he bucked his hips in concert with Harry’s ministrations. He took deep, open-mouthed breaths as Harry began to take more of his cock, his moans and groans of pleasure increasing in direct correlation to Harry’s precise but forceful attentions.



“Harry, oh, Harry, fuck, Harry!” he gasped as Harry grabbed both of his arse cheeks and pulled him in tight, swallowing his entire length and holding it there for an impossibly long moment. Harry then began sucking and pulling on his cock with a near frenzied fervour, and he felt that delicious heat begin to expand from deep inside his groin. He whipped his head back and forth, his speech reduced to pleasurful grunts and growls as Harry continued to assault his erection.



“Going to come,” he managed to rasp out, and Harry instantly released him, standing up and shoving his own under shorts down. Percy reached out for Harry’s bobbing erection, but he missed. Harry quickly moved toward the bed, kicking off the undershorts and laying on his back. Harry pushed himself up against the mass of pillows, his smile broad and beckoning, his cock thick and heavy, the fingers of one hand barely grazing the length of it.



Percy realized he was standing there, staring, drinking in the tableau of Harry’s naked body on the bed before him. Lightning flashed, washing the room with light, the subsequent thunder chiding him to move again. Harry grinned crookedly at him as he fumbled behind the pillows to pull out a tube of what could only have been lubricant of some sort. Percy quickly stepped out of his boxers, that had pooled about his ankles, climbing onto the tall mattress and into Harry’s arms.



Their lips merged once more, and Percy rumbled deeply as their erect cocks slid together, heated flesh against flesh, for the first time. Their sweat-slicked skin glided in a delicious friction, and they both bucked and ground their hips into each other. Percy gasped as Harry snaked a hand between them, the coolness of the lubricant a stark contrast against their super-heated flesh.



Harry closed his fingers around both of their erections, quickly coating them with the ultra-slick substance. Percy rutted against Harry for a few moments before Harry scooted himself up and spread his legs wide. Percy slid downward slightly, suckling at Harry’s jawline before proceeding down Harry’s neck to lave and nibble the flesh there. He could feel Harry writhing about beneath him, and he adjusted himself some more, his cock slipping behind Harry’s balls and teasing the crack of Harry’s arse.



Harry moaned deeply as Percy nudged the end of his cock against his entrance. Harry slid the tube of lube across the coverlet, and Percy sat up, spuirting the thick goop on three of his fingers. He slathered it all along the crevice of Harry’s arse, his index finger locating and pressing against Harry’s tight ring of muscle. He smoothly inserted the digit, quickly burying it to the knuckle. Harry groaned and tensed for a brief moment before drawing his knees up and placing his feet flat on the mattress.



“Do it,” he gasped. “Want you. Want you inside, Perce.”



Percy pulled his hand back, quickly sliding two fingers inside Harry and scissoring them about as he twisted and turned them in tight half-circles. Harry panted, ever so gently pressing himself against Percy’s fingers. One of Harry’s hands began stroking his own erection while with the other he added more lubricant.



“Fuck, Perce, want you now, ohgodsfuckingwantyounow!” Harry gibbered.



Percy removed his fingers and straddled Harry, the tip of his cock sliding along the divide between Harry’s arsecheeks. Harry stroked himself with increasing abandon as Percy smoothly and firmly thrust his erection into Harry’s tight heat, pausing slightly when he was half-way inside. Harry yelped and arched his back before taking a deep breath and laying back down on the mattress.



Percy pushed firmly until he was fully sheathed within Harry, leaning down to plant a wet kiss on Harry’s parted lips. He then pulled back a bit before beginning to press in and out of Harry, ever careful to maintain an even rhythm. Harry closed his eyes and stroked himself without mercy while Percy increased the speed of his own thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer; the sensation of his cock sliding within Harry’s wonderfully tight arse was nearly more than he could bear. He felt the heat spark wihin his groin once more, slowly growing before blossoming into the fusion of orgasm. He called out as he buried himself within Harry, his seed coursing through and out of him as never before.



Harry continued to buck and press his arse against Percy’s spent prick for a few moments longer before he too came, his ejaculate spurting between his clenched fingers and dotting the skin of his stomach. He clenched himself about Percy’s cock, seemingly unwilling to release it.



Percy gasped and pulled out, flopping bonelessly at Harry’s side and throwing his arm across Harry’s chest. He snuggled closer, nuzzling and kissing Harry’s cheek. Harry embraced him tightly. Thunder grumbled far off in the distance as rain spattered the roof and dripped through the downspouts and off of the eaves. They lay in silence, entwined, the fingers of Percy’s right hand ghosting across the surface of Harry’s scar. Eventually, Percy noted the slower rhythm of Harry’s breathing, and finally, the unmistakable sound of light snoring.



He murmured a thorough set of cleansing charms on them both and sat up, pulling on a light blanket that was laid over the end of the bed frame. He draped it over their lower bodies and lay back down, once again placing a protective arm across Harry’s chest.



Percy felt completely sated, at ease, comfortable. And safe. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt all of these feelings with such synchronicity. Was it possible that simply being so intimate with a person was able to bring them all together? He certainly didn’t consider himself to be a romantic, and had always scoffed at those who’d professed to be previously. So how did he explain how he felt now? Everything was suddenly fine, better, bang on. And it all seemed because of the man asleep in his arms.



“Harry,” he murmured quietly, pleased with the way the name sounded on his lips. “My Harry.”



Percy closed his eyes and fell asleep nearly instantly.





~~~~~~~







Percy awoke as the first grey light of dawn crept through the blinds of Harry’s bedroom window. Harry had rolled away to the far side of the bed during the night, curling into a ball, his back to Percy.



Percy slipped out of the bed as carefully as he could, mindful of the squeaky boxspring. He located his boxers and padded into Harry’s bathroom, quickly relieving his bladder and turning on the taps to the shower. After a quick wash and rinse, he cast the usual teeth cleansing charms and a shaver, collecting his denims and shirt and charming them clean as well. He slipped on his boxers and denims, moving into the bungalow’s tiny kitchen. Fortunately, the tea kettle and bags were in plain sight, and after a brief moment of confusion over how to ignite Harry’s Muggle range, he had the kettle on and two cups ready on the counter. Percy was amazed at how well-kept the little house was, especially if Harry rarely spent time there. There was even fresh cream in the tiny refrigerator.



He walked back out into the sitting room and gazed out the large bank of windows that faced east. The sky was still rather dark, but the horizon over the patch of ocean visible through the palms was the brightest, blazing crimson he’d ever seen. The kettle whistled importantly, and he hurried back into the kitchen, turning off the burner. He poured the hot water into one of the cups, allowing the bag to steep while he walked back into the sitting room to gaze at the sunrise again.



Impulsively, he set down his tea and opened the back door, striding across the tiny brick patio that spanned the back of the bungalow. The bricks were damp but warm on his bare feet as he padded across the patio, then following a narrow path that wound through some palms and underbrush. A few hundred yards and he found himself on a narrow strand of beach that extended for perhaps a half-mile in either direction.



The sun had just peeked over the horizon, and Percy walked up to the water’s edge, careful to dodge the remains of various and sundry sea creatures that had washed up during the storm. The sand was incredibly warm, but the water was warmer still, like bath water. He walked in up to his ankles, the low, wide waves slowly washing to shore just behind him. He stood there for a few moments, breathing in the warm air and just enjoying the sensation of the warm water on his feet.



He then turned about and found a clear area of sand and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees to watch the sunrise. He was struck at how different the landscape was, how alien, almost, to his homeland. Of course there was nowhere as beautiful and beloved as The Burrow, but this place was different. It felt lighter somehow, more carefree, and even if one had to work the daylight hours away in a confined office, surely escaping that and coming home to this…this idyllic place…couldn’t be half-bad at all.



Somewhere off in the distance a rooster crowed, and he smiled as he recalled the resident population of wild chickens. A dog barked in response, followed by another rooster from a different direction. He glanced to his left and noted a lone figure jogging along the water’s edge. Muggle, most likely. He shifted a bit as he heard footsteps behind him. He craned his neck to see a shirtless Harry trudging across the narrow beach, a most definitely relieved expression on his face. Percy turned to watch the sun as it rose above the waves to disappear behind a bank of distant clouds.



“Hey,” Harry said, plopping down in the sand next to him.



“Good morning,” Percy relpied, leaning his shoulder to Harry’s. He studied Harry’s chest. “You’re glamoured.”



Harry chuckled. “Yeah. No need to send the natives away screaming.”



“I don’t believe they would,” Percy replied, his toes digging into the warm sand.



Harry ran a hand through Percy’s hair. “Back to your old style, eh?”



Percy gasped. “Shite! I’d forgotten!”



“No worries. You look handsome this way too.” He stroked the side of Percy’s head, his hand falling to Percy’s side and grasping for his hand.



The female jogger approached them, and they both turned and nodded silent greetings. She smiled warmly and nodded in response, passing them and continuing on her way down the beach.



“You know,” Percy said, “I believe we’ve both forgotten to call in to work.”



Harry chuckled. “I just firecalled Ken. He’d already chatted with Terry, and they’ve both covered for us.”



“Good mates,” Percy commented.



“Yeah,” Harry agreed.



Percy scooted closer, running his fingers over Harry’s glamoured chest. “You don’t have to do this you know. Not around me.”



“Well, I know I don’t care to look at it sometimes. I didn’t think you’d want to, either.” He shook his head. “Bloody gruesome, really.”



“Never. You’re bloody gorgeous, to me anyway.” Percy leaned in and kissed the side of Harry’s head. “We’ve all got scars, Harry, some worse than others. Some that can be seen, some that can’t.”



Harry nodded. “Yeah. You’re right, of course.”



“Of course.”



Harry laughed, tossing a small pebble into the surf. He looked at Percy, and the glamour faded. “You realise there are no guarantees with this.”



Percy nodded. “Yes. But that’s the way of it.” He snorted. “Be rather dull if life came with a guarantee, wouldn’t you say?”



“Right again,” Harry said.



Percy leaned in and kissed Harry once more. “So, what now?”



“How about some tea and a little breakfast?” Harry offered.



“Sounds delightful. As long as you do the cooking,” Percy said with a smile. “That Muggle contraption of yours is most definitely wonky.”



“I’d love to cook for you, Percy. And don’t worry, I’ve never liked electric ranges myself.”



Percy paused a moment, staring at the waves. “Harry, what I meant was...what do we do now? Where do we go from here?”



“Dunno,” Harry replied. “Anywhere we like, I suppose. I hope that you’re talking about us together, right?”



“Yes, I am,” Percy said. “Is that what you’d like?”



Harry nodded, smiling. “Yeah, it is.”



“That’s settled then.” He stood up, offering Harry his hand. “I could use that tea now. And perhaps a muffin or two.”



Harry looked up, smiling ear to ear. “Sounds good. I’m famished.”





~~~~~~~





Percy closed the lid on the last of the storage boxes, shrinking them down and placing them into his pocket. He then went through the drawers of his desk one last time, ensuring that he’d indeed emptied them completely. He was checking the filing cabinet when someone cleared his throat behind him.



“Not very nice, abandoning friends like this,” Terry pouted as he leaned against the doorframe. “Merlin knows who or what I’ll get stuck with as a partner.”



Percy closed the drawer and put up his hands. “Sorry, mate. Time for a change. You’ll do fine, as long as your next partner has plenty of Madame Ciara’s on hand.” He crossed over to Terry, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And we’re only a portkey or a floo away. You’re coming out this weekend, yes?”



Terry rolled his eyes and looked away. “Yeah, yeah, sure, I’ll see you then. I‘m dying to witness these wild chickens in action.” He looked back at Percy, his eyes the slightest bit misty. “I’ll miss you, you poncey pouf.” He hugged Percy tightly, burying his head in the crook of Percy’s neck. “Arsehole,” he mumbled as he patted Percy’s back roughly.



They hugged eatch other for a moment longer and Percy pulled away, patting Terry’s cheek. “I’ll miss you too, Terry.” He averted his gaze to stare at the flooring. “I can’t ever begin to thank you enough for everything. You’ve been the best friend to me, truly. I know I’ve never said…”



Terry cut him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine, Perce, really. No need to get all sappy on me at the very end. You don’t have to say anything. I understand.” He stepped close and planted a chaste kiss on Percy’s forehead. “Enjoy yourself. And don’t forget the sunblocking charms. With that pasty skin of yours, you’ll sear to a crisp if you’re not careful.”



Percy chuckled. “Thanks, I’ll remember, although I‘m certain that I‘ll still turn into one, giant freckle.” Percy wanted to say more, but his throat choose that precise moment to close up. Shockingly, he felt the prick of tears in his eyes, and he cursed himself for being such an emotional shirt-lifter. He lunged at Terry, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, Terry, thanks so much.”



“Oy, now what’s this?”



Percy lifted his head to see Ken Towler standing in the hallway, smiling widely. Harry was at his side, as was Luna Lovegood. “Nothing,” Percy replied sheepishly, taking a few steps away from Terry. He nodded to Harry. “Are you packed up?”



Harry patted the pocket of his denim jacket. “Yeah. Desk empty, resignation letter owled, flat packed.” He stepped through the door, throwing an arm about Percy’s waist.



Terry groaned and stepped into the hallway. “I think we’d best be off,” he said to Ken, who nodded. “Don’t want to miss our dinner reservation. Besides, I’m starved.”



Ken shot them a knowing glance. “Too right. Wait’ll you see what I’ve got planned for dessert.” He waggled his eyebrows and Terry actually blushed. Luna fingered one of her turnip earrings, Harry chuckled and Percy pulled a face.



“Safe journey, mates,” Ken said, giving them a small wave. Terry winked as Ken threw an arm about his shoulders and guided them down the hallway toward the lifts.



“Well I’ll be a skrewt’s bum,” Harry wondered aloud. “Did you know anything about those two?”



Percy held up his hands. “Do I look like a Divinator?”



Luna laughed. “Oh, that’s funny, Percival, really!” She threw back her head and laughed some more, before stopping abruptly and reaching out to grasp Percy’s forearm. “And for Merlin’s sake, watch where you walk in your bare feet. Starfish and jellyfish, don’t you know.” She glanced both directions down the hallway before continuing. “Don’t forget the sunblock charms, yes?”



Percy nodded robotically while Harry struggled to maintain his composure, his hand clamped tightly over his mouth. Luna smiled sweetly for a moment before releasing Percy and placing her hand on Harry’s chest. “Don’t give up on Madam Monkshood. It may take longer than either of you think.” She then took a deep breath, cocking her head to one side and smiling. “Well, just wanted to see you two off. Can’t stand about all day jabbering, now can we? Go on, off with you!” She put a hand on each of their shoulders and steered them down the corridor to the lifts. She jabbed at the ‘down’ button and bustled away down the corridor. “See you this Friday, around half-eight!”



The lift arrived with an annoying ding as Percy turned to Harry. “What did she mean by that?”



Harry stepped into the lift. “Main Floor, please.”



“Thank you,” the lift replied flatly.



“Well?” Percy insisted.



“I didn’t invite her, really. She just knew. She’s a Divinator, after all.”



Percy sighed as the lift slowed to a stop. “I thought we were trying to get away from all this, not bring it with us.” He slid the gate open and stepped into the nearly deserted atrium.



“Oh, it’ll be fine, really. It’s just for the weekend, and none of them have ever been to Florida. Besides, Armand always prepares too much food, although now that I know how Terry and Ken can pack it away…”



Percy stopped before the bank of fireplaces. “Oh, it’ll be fine, I suppose. It’s just…”



“What is it, Perce?” Harry asked, touching Percy’s shoulder. "Second thoughts?”



Percy shook his head. “No, nothing of the sort.” He glanced about the atrium, the security wizard asleep behind his ever-present copy of The Quibbler. “It’s odd. This is what I thought I wanted.” He gestured expansively. “For as long as I can remember. I’d never dreamed of leaving The Ministry, or Britain. Before you, that is.”



Harry stepped close. “Well, if you’re not sure.”



“Oh, I am,” Percy insisted. “I suppose I’m just a bit concerned that I might not measure up. Or something.”



Harry squeezed his shoulder. “Well, I’m absolutely positive that you’ll do just fine.” He grinned. "And I don’t think you could be any more attractive than you are right now, for whatever that‘s worth.” He leaned up and pressed their lips together. “I know I’m not going anywhere that you’re not.”



Percy snuffled and straightened up. “Same here.”



Harry stepped over and grabbed a handful of floo powder. “See you in a minute.” He flashed that smile as he threw the powder and called out their destination, disappearing in a flash of green flame.



Percy stood there for many moments studying the intricate veining of the marble flooring. It was incredibly quiet in the atrium, and he thought the he could just hear the security wizard’s soft snores. He reached out, scooping up a handful of powder, watching as the grains spilt through the gaps between his fingers. Stepping into the hearth, he turned around, glancing about the atrium one final time.



He smiled, thinking of Harry waiting for him at home.



He chuckled.



“Yeah, home.”



Percy threw the powder and disappeared in a burst of green flame.







~~~ fin ~~~