InsaneJournal

How to Find the Perfect Christmas Present in Only Four Short Years (Percy/Harry, NC-17)
Title: How to Find the Perfect Christmas Present in Only Four Short Years
Pairing: Percy/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1670
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.
Summary: Every year, Percy draws Harry's name for Christmas.
Notes: More than an Advent Drabble—a birthday ficlet masquerading as an Advent Drabble! And really not a drabble by any stretch of the imagination—it ran away with me. Happy Birthday to the always enthusiastic nqdonne! ♥

Five minutes after the drawing, Percy cornered Bill in the kitchen.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Bill raised an eyebrow and reached for another butterbeer. "Sorry, what?"

Percy flapped a slip of parchment in his brother's face. "This is the fourth year in a row I've had Harry's name for Christmas. And, I'll wager, the fourth year in a row he's had mine. Did you rig the drawing again?"

Bill smirked. "To say that I'd rigged the drawing 'again' would imply that I'd rigged it before," he replied, and his gaze moved to somewhere beyond Percy's shoulder. Percy huffed.

"He's going to suspect something if you keep doing things like this. I really wish you wouldn't."

Bill waved at someone behind Percy and made to move past him and out of the kitchen. "Shouldn't have told me, then," he said, and he dared to ruffle Percy's hair as he passed, as if Percy were still a kid.

Percy leaned against the counter and fumed, crossing his arms over his chest, crushing the parchment with Harry's name on it in his palm. Bloody stupid Bill. Percy hadn't wanted to tell Bill how he felt about Harry. It had just sort of slipped out one night after Percy'd had a glass too many of wine at Shell Cottage and Fleur had gone to bed early. Percy had enjoyed the brotherly chat—something he hadn't expected—and he'd let too much slip.

He regretted it.

Well, that was an understatement.

Ever since that night more than four years prior, Bill had been pushing Percy towards Harry in ways that Harry probably didn't see—at least Percy hoped so—but which embarrassed Percy to no end. He didn't really see why Bill was so interested, either. Maybe he just wanted Harry to end up with a Weasley, and since Ginny wasn't having any of it since she'd taken up with Zach Smith, Percy the Poof was the next in line.

Never mind that Percy was fairly certain that Harry, despite having been knocked on his head a time or two, wasn't exactly bent.

The Christmas exchange was the worst of it. Every year, Bill rigged the drawing—Percy still hadn't solved that little riddle—and Percy ended up with Harry's name, then worried for a month that he was getting Harry something too impersonal or too intimate, something he'd hate or something he'd like far too much, something that would look awful on him or something that would look so well on him that Percy would be forced to tackle him right there under the tree on Christmas morning while his family looked on in astonishment.

Percy definitely didn't want that.

And this December was going to be just like the last three.

Percy shook his head and sighed, and he jumped when a voice sounded suddenly very close behind him.

"What's going on, Perce?"

"Harry! Hi." Percy's voice actually squeaked, like it hadn't done since he was a teenager. He could feel the tips of his ears start to turn red.

Marvellous.

"Did you get a good draw this year?" Harry asked, smiling and leaning against the counter next to Percy, crossing his arms in much the same fashion. "Or did we get each other again?"

Percy started to speak, then paused and turned his head so he could see Harry better.

"Are you saying you got me for Christmas?"

"Well," said Harry, smiling a little, "Not you. Your name."

"I—of course." Percy could feel the blush beginning to stain down his cheeks, and he cursed genetics and wished, not for the first time, that he could've been born with nonreactive skin.

"Um," said Harry then, and he looked behind him, over the counter. A shriek of laughter came from the direction of the living room, and Harry turned back to Percy, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Percy waited.

Harry didn't speak.

"It's supposed to be a surprise," Percy said, and cringed immediately afterward. No wonder he couldn't make a move past friendship with Harry—he was still intent on following the rules, still the nagging Head Boy he'd always been. Harry didn't want that.

"You've got me, though, don't you?" Harry asked.

I wish, Percy wanted to say, but he just paused, then nodded.

"D'you think Bill's rigged it?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Why—why would you think that?" Percy managed, suddenly aware of how very close Harry was standing. Percy could actually feel the heat radiating off him, and he longed to envelop himself in that warmth.

"I—" Harry stopped then, locking his eyes on Percy's.

There was a long moment in which neither man spoke, then Harry eased his hands from his pockets and rubbed them on his shirt as if to dry sweaty palms.

"Am I wrong?" he asked then, and his voice was so low that Percy barely heard him.

Harry was leaning forward a little, unblinking, his lips barely parted, and Percy tried to reply, but his breath came in a great shudder and no words came out.

He tried again.

"No."

"No, I'm not wrong? Or no, I'm desperately wrong and you don't want—this?"

Percy didn't have time to formulate a reply before Harry closed the gap between them, and then he didn't have time to think or even breathe before he found his mouth locked with Harry's, one hand in the younger man's wild hair and the other on his back, rucking up his shirt. Percy could feel a warm, damp line where Harry was sweating—god, he'd been just as nervous as Percy had been—and he clung to Harry, kissing him desperately, breathing hard.

Harry stepped on his toes and Percy didn't mind. Harry tugged his hair a little too hard and that was all right.

And then Charlie came into the kitchen and ruined everything.

"Oh—" he cried, and Percy and Harry sprang apart. Percy wiped his mouth and ran a hand through his hair, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry doing the same.

Percy began to protest, but Charlie held up a hand.

"Perce. I don't—hah. Wow. Okay. I wasn't exactly expecting to see that."

"Don't tell," Percy said then, hating the way he sounded, like a kid begging for mercy from his older brother.

"Not a word," said Charlie, putting a finger to his lips and backing out of the kitchen, "But boy, Perce, do you owe me one."

Percy didn't breathe for a long moment after Charlie had gone, not until he felt a hand on his arm.

"Harry. I—"

"Hold on," Harry said, offering his arm, and Percy did, and in a moment they were in a darkened and unfamiliar flat.

"Warn a person!" Percy protested. He hated Side-Along Apparition.

Harry just shrugged. "Welcome to my home," he said. He shrugged off his jumper, leaving himself clad in only a thin t-shirt and dark jeans. He started down the hallway, then stopped and cast a backwards glance at Percy.

"Coming?"

This is all happening way too fast, the logical part of Percy's mind screamed at him, You haven't even discussed anything! How do you know what he really wants? What if he's just having you on?

"Oh, shut up," Percy growled, and he followed Harry down the hallway.

The bedroom was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight coming in the window. Percy could just make out Harry's shape by the bed, and he moved towards it.

"Perce," Harry said then, "Percy."

And that was all. Percy trembled a little at his own name falling so intimately from Harry's lips, and he put his arms around Harry, kissing him again, just as hungrily as the first time.

Harry made quick work of the buttons on Percy's shirt, then slipped it from his shoulders and ran his hands down Percy's arms, raising gooseflesh. Percy shivered as Harry unbuckled his belt, and Percy stepped out of his trousers when they fell, toeing off his shoes.

Clad only in his vest, pants, and socks, Percy tugged Harry's t-shirt over his head. Harry raised his arms obligingly, then undid his own jeans as Percy concentrated on kissing Harry's neck.

They sank onto the bed, and Percy paused, pulling out of the kiss, his eyes wide in the darkness.

"Harry," he breathed, and he put a hand to Harry's face. "May I?"

Harry nodded, and Percy lifted off first Harry's glasses, then his own, placing both pairs on the bedside table. It was a more intimate gesture than a kiss, and Percy paused again.

"You're really not just having me on?"

Harry laughed and pressed himself to Percy, his erection evident against Percy's thigh.

"That feel like I'm having you on?"

"I—no," Percy confessed, "I just—I never thought—"

"Neither did I," said Harry, kissing Percy again, tangling their tongues together. Percy whimpered into the kiss and gave in, pressing himself to Harry, harder than he'd ever been in his life.

An embarrassingly few moments later, Percy was gasping against Harry's neck and Harry was doing the same against Percy's, and soon, too soon, they both came, rubbing against each other, smearing the insides of their pants with sticky fluid. Percy might've called out Harry's name, and Harry might've called out Percy's, but Percy wasn't certain and anyway he didn't much care.

He had his Harry.

When they'd cleaned themselves with a spell and were spooned against each other in the moonlight filtering through the window, Harry gave a low chuckle.

"What is it?" asked Percy, still not quite believing what was happening.

"It's just—" said Harry, and he turned over to face Percy, planting a kiss on Percy's lips and a hand over Percy's heart.

"What?" Percy couldn't help but smile. He noticed the logical part of his mind didn't have anything to say at the moment.

"I guess now I don't need to worry about what to get you for Christmas."