A gift for gelsey!
Title: Thinking Logically Author: TBA Giftee: gelsey Pairing/Characters: mainly Percy/Hermione, but also Bill/Fleur and background Ron/Hermione Rating: NC-17 Word Count: ~8,300 Warnings: smut, oral, depression and consequences Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or the Potterverse, nor do I own Percy Weasley (as much as I dream about it) Summary: I’ve never even seen that much blood, Percy, and I’m friends with Harry Potter. Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this, gelsey! Of the prompts, I tried to use Percy/Hermione, Percy doing what he thinks is right, despair, and of course, smut =) Hopefully it worked out without being too melodramatic. Feedback is always love. Thanks to the mods for their patience and this fic, to my betas (there’s a couple of them who provided great feedback), and to gelsey for giving me the opportunity to write this fic!
He sees her come into the Ministry. She's there almost every day now. Every day he tells himself to stop her for just a second and ask about his family. Every day he tells himself that just asking how they are will get rid of the constant feeling of worthlessness, like he’s at least made an effort. Every day he lets her walk right past him into the Minister's office, without so much as checking in like everyone else has to.
Percy never wanted to leave his family. He just wanted them to be pleased about his promotion. The second he was offered the promotion he suspected Fudge was up to something. He had spent the previous week coming up with a list of reasons why he shouldn't be sacked, and suddenly he was promoted? Even a moron could figure it out. But he thought his parents would at least be a little bit proud.
It hadn't happened that way.
By the time he had found himself in London, he realised there was no way he could go back. If he went back to his family, they would make him go to Fudge and turn down the promotion. But that just wasn't an option. He had already accepted it; if he went back and turned it down, Fudge would know his family was in the league with Dumbledore. Not only would Percy lose his job, his father would be sacked.
He hadn't meant what he said to them that night. He didn't care that he had never had new things or spending money. But the fact remained that if Arthur Weasley lost his job, the family would be ruined, and it would be all Percy's fault.
So he had waited, until the Ministry finally admitted that Harry Potter wasn't a great nutter and he could go back to his family. But it didn't happen that way, either. When the Ministry finally admitted what had happened, Percy was suddenly expected to bring Harry Potter in.
He couldn't do that. The things they expected Harry to do for them... Percy would not let them do it. So he stayed away, kept away from his family, until Scrimgeour ordered him to return home for Christmas and allow him to see Harry Potter. He did not want to go, but that didn't matter; if he valued his job (which he did – he had to support himself somehow if he wasn't going to live at home), he had better obey.
So he went, and he saw them, and tried to explain but before he could the twins had flung food at him and he realised that they did not want him back, anyway. It was entirely logical, entirely expected, but still he that desperate feeling of wanting to be taken back. The more they denied him, the more he realised he was completely worthless in their eyes. He supposed they had spent so long without him that they realised he was just another space taken and that they'd rather have Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in that space.
Hermione Granger. The name makes him jolt back into real time as she walks by his desk to the Minster’s office. He watches her go in and tells himself today, he will ask her how his family is.
He doesn’t know why she comes to the Ministry. He’s sure it’s something to do with Harry Potter or a mission or something. The Aurors have been talking about it, anyway, so perhaps she is seeking extra help from them.
He wonders what she knows. He’s sure he would know if someone had died but what if someone was hurt? Perhaps they didn’t want him in their lives, but he felt the need to cling to them. He had no other family, few other friends. Even if his entire family hated him, they were the closest things he had to an anchor in his life.
It’s difficult seeing her, as well. He has always liked Hermione, but there has never been an opportunity to tell her. When he finally convinced himself that she wasn’t too young, his family stopped talking to him and she did, as well. He wonders if she ever started dating Ron, who was much better for her than he would ever be.
“…will assure you, Miss Granger, that they will be ready soon. You cannot rush us into something this important.”
Percy looked up to see the Minister escorting Hermione from his office. He attempted to place a hand on her elbow but she wrenched her arm away.
“You don’t understand, Mr. Scrimgeour. You have to rush into this – it’s an emergency. The more you put it off, the closer Vold-“
“Don’t say it!”
“Oh, stop your cowardice. The closer Voldermort gets to taking over. This cannot wait any longer!”
“Well, it will have to, Miss Granger. Good day.”
The Minister shuts his office door with a resounding bang. Hermione growls in frustration and turns on her heel, stamping towards the lift. Percy watches her until she is halfway down the hall before deciding he has to know, today, if they are okay, because what if she doesn’t come back? He stands up and rushes after her.
“Hermione…”
She whirls around, saying, “I told you, Scrimgeour, it’s Miss… oh. You. What do you want, Percy?”
Her words sting and he clears his throat as he feels his ears turn red. “I – I just wanted to know if…” His voice breaks slightly and he coughs. “If my family is okay.”
“What?” Her voice is sharp and he flinches.
“If they’re okay,” he repeats. “If anyone’s hurt, or…”
“What do you care?” she interrupts.
He stares down at the carpeted floor and shakes his head. “Never mind,” he whispers, blinking hard and hoping his eyes will stop watering before he has to look up again. “I just… I – I wanted to make sure they were okay.”
He turns around and hurries away, past his desk and towards the staff room. He hears the lift’s bell and imagines her going back to his family and telling them what he had asked. They would all have a good laugh at him and his mum would serve dinner, shaking her head at how pathetic he is. The worst part, he decides, is that it is true. He’s absolutely pathetic. He’s absolutely, completely, and totally useless.
The staff room is, thankfully, empty, and Percy slumps down at a table facing the window and Summons a cup of tea from the counter. He should have known better than to ask her. They all hated him, now.
He hears the door open and he stands up quickly, sloshing tea down the front of his robes. “Sorry,” he says, waving his wand to dry the tea, “I’ll get right back to work… just had to grab…”
“Sit down, Percy.” The sound of her voice makes him stop. He listens as she walks around to the other side of the table he is at, but stares down at his now-empty cup and does not sit.
“Tea?” he asks feebly.
“No,” she says. “I apologise for snapping at you.”
“It’s okay,” he replies. “I know you all hate me now. But they’re still my family and they’re the only thing I have left, even if they can’t stand me.”
“That’s not true,” Hermione says. “Your family misses you.”
“They threw food at me when I tried to explain why I left.”
She sits down and he feels strange standing as she talks, so he falls back into his chair but does not look at her.
“You have to understand, Percy, you betrayed them. You said hurtful things…”
“I said things I didn’t mean, and I never betrayed them. I made it so that they were safe. If I stayed, Fudge would have known they were in the league with Dumbledore and fired my dad.” He swallows hard. “I didn’t mean what I said but they wouldn’t survive if my father was sacked.”
Hermione doesn’t say anything and he shakes his head and plays with the cup in front of him. “I wanted so much to go back but I knew I couldn’t. Then Fudge admitted Dumbledore was right and I still couldn’t go back because then Minister Scrimgeour would have tried to get to Harry through me. And then he made me go back and I went and they didn’t want me. They had Harry and they had you and I had parsnip all over my face.”
“You think your family didn’t want you because they had Harry and I?” Hermione repeats.
“What other reason would there be?” he replies.
“Percy, your mum still wells up every time someone even mentions your name. She’s even saved a place for you at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.”
Percy looks up. “They’re getting married?”
Hermione stares at him with pity. “Saturday… well, tomorrow, I suppose. At the Burrow. You didn’t know?”
“I don’t know anything!” he cries, slamming the cup with frustration. “I didn’t even know I was invited. Why would she save a spot for me if I wasn’t invited?”
“You were, though,” Hermione says. “Bill insisted. He’s the only one who thinks you’ll come back, other than your mum. I watched him put it in the pile the twins were to send out.”
“The twins,” says Percy sullenly, and Hermione immediately understands that he never got the invitation. “They’re doing well, too, I suppose?”
“They started a joke shop,” Hermione says promptly. “It’s a huge success.”
“How about Ron?” asks Percy. “Did you two ever get together?”
Hermione chuckles. “Everyone knew it but us, didn’t they?” Percy shrugs half-heartedly, so she continues. “We were… for a little while. But he’s just not mature enough.”
“I always wondered why you were friends with him,” Percy says.
“Well, he can be smart when he wants to be,” defends Hermione. “He was a prefect. You know, you sent him that letter.”
“Fudge made me send it.”
“Oh.”
They sit quietly for a few minutes until Percy hears someone shouting for him in the corridor. Hermione stands up.
“Please come to the wedding,” she says. “Your mum and Bill want you there, and once everyone understands why you did what you did, they will too.” She begins to walk away and stops at the door. “I’m sorry we were so awful to you, Percy.”
“It wasn’t you,” he replies. “You were always decent.”
“I was just as bad as the rest of them for not thinking there could be another reason.”
He listens to her leave and once he is sure she has gotten onto the lift, he returns to his desk. He does not return to working, however, but stares at the wall in front of him and thinks, and thinks. Perhaps they do want him back. Perhaps… perhaps if he goes, he will finally be a part of his family again.
He finally comes to the conclusion that he will go to the wedding. They had to understand why he did it – Hermione said they would, and maybe she would even back him up. He quickly writes a memo to Agnes in Ministry Scheduling to inform her that he will not be in the next day and packs up his desk. It would be rude to show up without a gift, and he needs to press his dress robes… Without even informing Scrimgeour he is leaving, he goes.
-*-*-*-
There is laughter and chatter filling the air the second Percy Apparates into the yard of the Burrow. It is sunny and warm, the perfect day for a wedding. He can see a large white tent in the backyard and chairs floating from the house into a specific order in and around the tent.
He shifts nervously on the spot, awkwardly holding the wrapped box containing a set of cooking utensils. He’s sure that his mother is inside the house, cooking or fussing or something of the sort, and he’s sure that of everyone (except Hermione), she’s the only one who will greet him amicably. He debates simply entering the house like he belongs there but decides he should probably knock. It is more polite.
His mother’s voice is floating through an open window as he knocks. “Oh, who is that?” she says, flustered. “No, never mind, Fred…”
“It’s George!”
“George, then, never mind, I’ll get it. You keep levitating those chairs. Oh, if it’s another guest who thought it started in the morning…”
The door opens and she immediately stops talking, just stares at Percy as he stands there. After a moment she seems to regain herself.
“Is that really you?” she whispers.
He nods nervously. “I… er… misplaced my invitation. I suppose I got the time wrong.”
“No, no… Oh, Percy!” she cries, and launches herself at him. He barely has time to drop the gift before she has enveloped him in a crushing hug. The box hits the front step with a loud crash and he hears Ron swear from inside.
“Who is it, Mum?” someone shouts.
“It – it’s Percy!” his mother sobs out. “He came!”
There is the sound of a number of people rushing towards the door. He looks over his mother’s shoulder to see the twins, Ginny, Ron, and his father crowding around the front doorway.
“Er… hello,” Percy says, his voice shaking. “I… er…”
“What are you doing here?” asks George. Percy is taken aback by his cold voice.
“I was invited,” Percy replies.
“No, you weren’t,” says Fred.
“Fred, stop it!” Their mother stops hugging Percy and turns to the rest of them. “He’s here, and that’s what counts, and he’s even brought a gift for Bill and Fleur.”
“Go away,” says Ginny, pushing through her brothers.
“Ginevra Weasley!”
“I’m sure this wedding will be much less extravagant, seeing as we’re so poor and all,” Ginny continues, disregarding the fact that her mother’s face is growing steadily redder. “Bill only said he wants you here because he was afraid of what Mum would say if he didn’t.”
“That is enough!” screeches their mother. “Enough! Your brother has made an effort and…”
“No,” Percy interrupts. “It was stupid of me to come. I’ll just…”
“Percy, no!” his mother says, latching on to his arm.
“I don’t want to ruin this for anyone,” he says. “Just… send my congratulations to Bill, please.” He wriggles his arm free and walks quickly away.
“It’s okay, Mum,” he hears someone say as he gets ready to Apparate back to his flat. “He’s just a big git. Should just go curl up and die.”
“How DARE you say…” Percy Disapparates as his mother begins to yell.
He is not so perturbed by his brothers and sister not wanting him there, but by the fact that his father said nothing and looked thoroughly disappointed that Percy was standing on his doorstep. He goes into the kitchen, takes a bottle of Firewhiskey from the cupboard and a knife from the drawer and goes back into the living room.
It seems oddly logical to him that he should take the advice of whoever had said he should curl up and die. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t felt truly rejected until today. His father had never just stood aside and watched, and said nothing, as his siblings said awful things. He had never expected such awful things to come from their mouths but he sure they were having a great laugh about it. Stupid Percy, they would say, great big git, thinking we would want him here.
He takes a long swig of Firewhiskey and stares at the knife. It’s such an obvious solution. He can’t lie and say he hasn’t thought of it before – immediately after leaving his family, for instance, or the Christmas he left covered in parsnip. But he always convinced himself there was some reason he wouldn’t, some reason he shouldn’t do it. His father, he reasoned, was perhaps the reason. At least at Christmas he had welcomed Percy.
It would probably be easier just to drink a poison or something, Percy thinks, drinking more Firewhiskey. Though, maybe his father will think it better if he does it the Muggle way. He sighs. He’s sure that someone will say it’s overdramatic, stupid, pointless. But that’s stupid, pointless, Percy for them.
It’s not just the Firewhiskey that’s causing these thoughts, Percy knows. In some strange, twisted way, this is all making sense to him. In some way, he almost expects his death to reunite him with his family. Like by doing just what his brother said and what all his siblings thought, he was somehow proving that he deserved to be accepted back to his family.
But what if it’s not the right solution? Percy shakes the thought off with another swig of Firewhiskey. It was the only solution, really, unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life feeling that worthlessness that came from not even being able to be with his family.
The idea of spending the rest of his life feeling worthless is overwhelming and is the last point Percy needs before he puts the Firewhiskey and sets to work with the knife.
-*-*-*-
“Percy Weasley, wake up.”
“No.”
“You dolt, if you’re talking you’re already awake.”
He keeps his eyes closed tightly and ignores Hermione Granger’s voice. His head is pounding, like he’s on the closing end of a night of binge drinking. If he is, he thinks, then what in the name of Merlin is Hermione Granger doing in his apartment?
His eyes fly open, as does his mouth, to ask her what happened the night before. The second they do he regrets it; a sharp pain shoots through his head and he realises that he is not in his apartment in the same moment, and that he had try to kill himself in the next. He slams his eyes shut again and contemplates the situation.
“What are you doing here, Hermione?” he mumbles, his face going red. “And how did I get here?”
“Well, did you honestly think that no one was going to come after you once I’d explained what happened? By the time Harry and I found out that you’d already been there and left, and we could calm your mother down enough to explain that there’d been a mistake, and we figured out where to Floo to, you had already passed out on the floor.” He feels her hand find his and grasp his fingers. “I’ve never even seen that much blood, Percy, and I’m friends with Harry Potter.”
He makes a sound that could be a choked laugh, but doesn’t seem to be anything at all.
“And then you took me to St. Mungo’s.”
“No,” she answers. “It was quicker to get you here. It’s a Muggle hospital. And safer. Putting you in St. Mungo’s would be like admitting you’d gone insane, and once I’d told everyone why you had stayed with the Ministry, they thought you’d make a very good spy.”
“Don’t want to spy,” Percy says immediately. “I just want to go back to my family.”
“You can.”
“No I can’t. They’ll get Harry.”
“Percy, Harry has been trying to get the Ministry to help him anyway.”
He makes the same choked nothing as before. “So I’ve been doing this all for nothing.”
“Not for nothing. You’ve been trying to protect your family. Not many people know that Harry’s trying to work with the Ministry, and it’s only just been recently that he’s decided to do so. You were protecting him, for the most part.”
Percy shifts in the bed and Hermione pulls her hand back, as though she forgot she was holding his hand. There are so many questions pressing at him, but he can’t seem to voice them.
“May I ask you something?” Hermione says, her voice quiet. Percy shrugs indecisively, so she continues. “Why did you do it?”
“I had to,” Percy answers truthfully. “How could you expect me to just go on living while my family, my father, hates me?”
“Your father doesn’t hate you!”
“Well, he certainly doesn’t like me.”
“That’s completely not true.”
“You weren’t there.”
She opens her mouth to speak again, but seems to decide he is right. He turns and stares at the wall, where there is a painting of a mountain range and the animals don’t move.
“Hermione?” he finally says.
“Yes?”
“Why are you here?”
She seems taken aback by the question, but before she can get angry, he explains. “I mean, why you? Where’s my family?”
“They went to get lunch,” she says. “Bill and Fleur postponed the wedding but all the food was still there. They’ve been sitting beside you in turn since we brought you here.”
“They cancelled the wedding?” Percy tilts his head back in frustration. “Yet another family event I’ve ruined.”
“That’s not true!” Hermione cries. “Fleur insisted that it be postponed after they found out what had happened because it meant so much to Bill. It was only after that we found you.”
“So it’s still my fault. If I hadn’t shown up they would be married by now.”
“Stop blaming yourself! It’s stupid!”
“No, it’s logical,” Percy says. “It makes sense. It is based on the facts, on what happened. I’m not stupid.”
Hermione throws her hands in frustration. “If you’re so logical,” she says, “then how come you couldn’t recognise you were depressed before all this happened?”
He goes to answer but finds there is nothing he can say that makes what he did seem reasonable.
“You should have heard your mother,” Hermione continues hesitantly. “I’ve never heard someone cry like that. It was terrifying, Percy. It was like she was being torn apart. I’ve seen your mother scream before, I’ve seen her cry, but this was different. It was like… I can’t even describe. And your father. He looked like…”
Tears prick into Percy’s eyes as Hermione describes his family. When she begins to describe Ginny huddled in a corner, he can’t take anymore. “Stop,” he pleads. “Please.”
“They miss you, Percy,” Hermione says resolutely. “They feel terrible for what they did. They think this is all their fault; not yours.”
Percy can’t think of anything to say to her, but the door to his room opens and his mother sticks her head in. When she realises Percy is awake, she bursts into tears and evrushes forward. The rest of his family, including Fleur and Harry Potter, squeezes into the room and Hermione seems to disappear.
“Don’t ever,” his mother sobs, “ever think like that again. Oh, Percy…” She grips his hand and sinks into the chair Hermione had vacated.
His father comes around the other side of his bed and places a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son,” he says quietly. “This is as much my fault as anyone else’s.”
“It’s not, Dad,” Percy says. His father looks like he is ready to cry.
“Thank you for what you did,” he says. “For making sure I still had a job. I never expected…”
“It’s okay,” Percy interrupts. “I didn’t…”
But he is interrupted by Ginny bursting into tears and slapping Percy’s leg. “We thought you were dead!” she says, her voice high-pitched. “Just after we’d found out everything. We felt terrible and then even worse.”
“What she’s trying to say…” begins George.
“And failing at,” adds Fred.
“…is that we’re sorry, Perce. What you did, that was great of you. Making sure Dad had a job, and our family was safe, and all that.”
Percy stares at his feet poking up in the blanket. “It wasn’t really anything,” he mutters.
“Obviously it was,” says Charlie. “If it did this to you.”
The room falls silent and Percy can feel them all staring at him. He takes a breath.
“I’m sorry I wrecked your wedding, Bill,” he says.
“It’s not…” Bill begins.
“No, it is,” Percy says. “It is my fault. You can’t deny that one.”
“Well, eet would not be much of a wedding wizout you,” says Fleur. “Bill wanted you to be zere, even before. We will have it when you are better.”
“And you can be best man,” Charlie says quickly. “Bill said if you showed up I could be relieved of my duties. I was counting on you, little brother.”
“You said you were fine with being best man!” exclaims their mother. Charlie grins and Percy can’t help but smile a bit.
“Too much pressure,” says Charlie. “I’d forget the rings if Fleur hadn’t Charrmed them into my pocket. Percy’s more fit for this sort of thing.”
Their mother, who had barely stopped sobbing, burst into tears again. Bill patted Percy on the back.
“Welcome home, brother.”
-*-*-*-
He has been out of the hospital for a week before he sees Hermione again. It is the night before Bill’s rescheduled wedding, and he is packing just enough to stay at the Burrow for a few days when he hears his name being called from the fireplace.
“I’m here,” he says, inviting the person to come through. He closes his rucksack as someone thumps onto the hearth. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.” Hermione’s voice rings through his flat. Percy’s heart seems to freeze in spot and his back tenses. “Where are you?”
“I… er… one second,” he stutters. His ears begin to turn red and his hands are shaking. Of all the people in the world, it was her he wanted to see least. Well, maybe not least – he’d rather not meet up with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – but he didn’t want to see her very much, either way.
“Percy?” she calls. He can hear her walking towards his room, but does not turn towards the door. She stops walking and he can only assume it is because she’s standing in the doorway.
“Hello, Hermione,” he says. His voice is quieter than he expects.
“Hi,” she replies. Her voice is quiet, too. She clears her throat. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
He knows she is lying. He was going to be at the Burrow the next morning. He says nothing about it, however.
“I’m alright,” he says. “And how are you?”
“A bit nervous, actually,” she says. He jumps when her voice is right behind him. “About tomorrow. Fleur’s decided she wants three bridesmaids so two can precede her in the procession and one can carry her train. So I’ve been selected by default.”
Percy wishes he had something more intelligent to say than the simple “Oh” that comes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t and his ears go even redder. Hermione moves around him and sits on his bed, next to the rucksack.
“Are you really alright, Percy?” She looks at the bandages on his arms and Percy suddenly wishes he had not been wearing a T-shirt.
“As alright as can be expected,” he answers truthfully, attempting to turn his arms away from her. She does not seem to want to allow this, instead gently grabbing his hand.
“I heard you got time off from the Ministry.”
“A month of paid mental health rest. Scrimgeour insisted. Apparently they think it was work pressure.”
Hermione doesn’t seem to have anything to say to this, but continues to hold onto his hand. He stares at her, sitting on his bed, for a moment. “Why did you come here?” he finally asks.
“I don’t know,” she replies. “I told myself I wanted to make sure you’re alright. I suppose I could have asked you tomorrow, but…” She shakes her head and lets go of his hand, standing up suddenly. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I’ll just… go.”
She rushes out of the room and Percy is taken aback for a moment before realising he doesn’t want her to go. He rushes after her and stops when he sees her standing in the middle of his living room.
“Er… I just realised I don’t have any Floo powder,” she says sheepishly. “Could I borrow some, please?”
“No,” Percy says, and Hermione’s surprised face nearly causes him to burst out laughing. “I just mean I didn’t want you to go. I thought… maybe you could stay for a drink?”
He doesn’t know why he’s asking but a small smile forms on Hermione’s face and he can’t help but smile back.
“I’d love to,” she says. “I always liked talking to you, Percy.”
“Really?” he says, then blushes. “I mean, I enjoy talking to you, as well.”
“It’s just nice to talk to someone intellectually,” she explains, blushing as well.
“Yes,” he says hurriedly. “Er… how about that drink? What would you like? I haven’t got much of anything, I’m afraid. I don’t entertain much. Er… I’ve got some wine. Or a couple bottles of Butterbeer.”
“Wine would be lovely,” she says. He hurries into the kitchen and pours two glasses, then returns to the living room. She has settled onto his sofa and is looking at a book he had on his coffee table.
“Have you read that one?” he asks her.
“Not yet,” she replies. “I haven’t finished Medieval Goblin History yet and this is the second part, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He hands her one of the glasses. “It doesn’t make much sense without the first book. There’s a lot of referencing back.”
She is silent for a moment and he knows there is something else she wants to ask. After a moment, she does.
“Are you really alright, Percy?”
He looks directly at her. “I am,” he says. “I wasn’t for a few days after… after I… well, you know. But once I realised that my family was back, for good, those thoughts I told you in the hospital went away.”
“That fast?” she asks. “And you’re back to normal now?”
“It’s been two weeks,” he says. “I wouldn’t say I’m completely back to normal, but I feel much better than I did. Mentally, and physically too. My arms don’t even hurt anymore.”
“You still have the bandages.”
“Just after I put the salve on. So it doesn’t rub off.” He slowly peels the white gauze off his arms and shows her. “Almost completely gone.”
She seems to have trouble looking at his arms, and he blushes. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m just so glad you’re okay. I was so worried.”
“I’m fine. Good enough to be reading again.”
She grins and picks up the book off the coffee table again. “So tell me more about this one.”
They drink wine and talk about books for another hour, at least. Percy can feel his cheeks flushing, but the wine doesn’t seem to be affecting Hermione at all. He understands why when she puts her glass down; she is somehow still on her first, and he’s drank nearly half the bottle.
“Can I ask you something?” he finally says.
“Certainly.”
“Why did you and Ron break up?”
“He wasn’t mature enough. I told you that.”
“But you’ve put up with him for years, being the way he is. Why was he suddenly not mature enough?”
She is silent for a few moments, and he wonders if she is just contemplating the question or if she is trying to find a way to get off the topic.
“Do you want the honest truth?” she finally says.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” he replies.
She sighs. “Everyone seems to think that Ron and I have been meant for each other from the beginning. But when I first met your family, I had feelings for another one of his brothers. He didn’t seem to notice, though, so I… started paying attention to Ron, I suppose, thinking it would be the same. But it wasn’t at all.”
“Why not?”
“Because Ron is a different person,” she says. “He’s not anything like any of you, and especially not like… like the person I liked. It’s not fair to him, for me to expect him to be like someone else.”
“Who was it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Percy grins. “Was it Bill? Charlie? It’s Charlie, isn’t it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione mumbles, blushing.
“You can tell me,” Percy says. “Give me a hint, at least. How is he different than Ron?”
“Percy…”
“Just a hint, come on. Just one?”
“Fine. He’s completely different than Ron. He’s smart and responsible and ten times more interesting than Ron because his vocabulary contains words that apply to more than just Quidditch or snogging.”
Percy is silent. “Bill?” he finally guesses. “Sorry, Hermione, but I think he’s taken.”
“It’s not Bill.”
“Well, it can’t be Charlie. He’s really into Quidditch. And snogging. Those are his two main hobbies. Other than dragons, of course.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “I’m going to have to rethink that smart one. Isn’t it obvious, Percy?” Percy stares at her blankly. “It’s you.”
The words take a second to sink in, and when they do, Percy isn’t quite sure of what to do. “You think I’m more interesting than Ron?”
“Much more,” she says, standing up suddenly. “Look, I hadn’t expected to tell you this. I should really be going now.”
“Why?” Percy asks.
“Honestly, Percy!” she cries. “Do you have any common sense?”
“It’s debatable,” he replies. “I’ve always been more book smart than anything.”
She looks torn between laughing and storming off. He stands up to look at her. “Hermione, you’re a wonderful person. I’ve always thought so. But first you were too young, then too involved with my brother, and then too part of a family I thought hated me.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling her this – most likely the wine – but he means every word. “I always thought Ron was better for you.”
“You’re telling the truth?” she asks suspiciously.
“Every word,” he replies. “Never mind the fact that I owe my life to you.”
“That’s not…”
“Yes it is. I would have been dead for days before anyone found me if you hadn’t told my family everything. I guess I owe getting my family back to you, too.”
“No, that’s…”
“Completely true? I know.”
“Percy, stop it. You know those things are…”
“Stop denying it.”
“Stop interrupting me!”
“Well, then stop denying it.”
She lets out a growl of frustration and raises her arms, lunging at him. He steps back instinctively and she catches his chest. Off balance, he topples to the ground and she lands on top of him.
“Dolt, I was trying to kiss you!”
He blushes. “I thought you were going to strangle me. See, this is why I don’t make jokes. Or talk.”
She laughs and leans forward, pressing her lips to his. He kisses her back, surprised at her certainty, but enjoying it nonetheless. When she pulls back, he is slightly disappointed. She props herself up over him.
“Percy, I have liked you since I met you.”
“Is it because I’m just as neurotic as you are?”
“Partially, yes.”
“Wonderful.”
“I know. But Percy, I was so upset when you left. When you told me what happened I was ecstatic. And when we found you after you…” He is surprised to see tears in her eyes. “I thought you would die without ever knowing. I told Ron how I felt about you and he said he wasn’t surprised because we’re so much alike. Please, don’t ever do that again.”
“I don’t intend to,” he replies softly. “Never again.”
She leans down to kiss him again. “Good,” she mumbles, the kisses him again. He lets one hand trail up to tangle in her hair and she brings one of her hands to his cheek. She is forward, taking the lead with their kissing, and he is more than happy to oblige when she presses her tongue to his lips. He has never kissed anyone like this; not even Penelope, who thought it was quite enough to peck on the cheek. She flicks her tongue against his and he inhales sharply.
Hermione pulls away from him suddenly and he can’t help but make a small, disappointed sound. She laughs when he does and starts to stand up. “I have a feeling that this would be more comfortable on the sofa,” she says.
“I was fine,” he grumbles, but climbs onto the couch next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. “This is better, I guess.”
She kisses him again, on the corner of his mouth, then slowly down his jawbone. He plays with her hair, letting it slide between his fingers, as she kisses his neck and softly bites him. He uses his other hand to gently guide her back to his mouth and she obliges, wrapping her arms around him and stroking the back of his neck.
They kiss for awhile longer before Hermione nudges him to kiss her neck. “You can touch me, you know,” she whispers. He pulls back and blushes.
“I haven’t really done this before… much… really,” he stutters. She grins at him.
“That’s okay,” she says. “Here, put your hand on my hip, like this…” She places his hand on her hip and runs her hand up to his shoulder. “Now, kiss me like this…” She gently moves his head to just below her ear. He kisses her and nips lightly at the skin there, making her gasp.
“You like dominating, don’t you?” he asks her.
“No,” she says breathily, “just teaching.” She tightens her grip on his shoulder as he licks her neck.
“Well, you can teach me all you want,” he tells her. “Tell me whatever you want me to do.”
He could swear it was like Christmas for her. She made a sound that was like an excited squeal and pulled him away from her neck long enough to kiss him on the lips, before telling him to go back to what he was doing before. He grins into her neck as he kisses it, the sound of her ordering voice making him want to do nothing but please her.
Her hand finds his and she guides it from her hip to her waist over top of her shirt. She then takes her hand away from his and presses it to the back of his head lightly, running her fingers through his hair. He swallows hard and starts to move his hand to her back.
“I didn’t tell you to do that,” she says, and he stops. He can feel her smile against his cheek and he responds by nipping lightly at her neck again. She gasps. “Move your hand higher.” He inches it slightly higher, then stops. “I said higher,” she gasps again.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” he says.
She groans in frustration and grabs his hand, placing it over her breast. He massages it through her cotton blouse and she sighs. He alternates between kissing and licking and biting at her neck, and she moves closer to him on the sofa, draping a leg over his lap.
“Percy,” she sighs.
“Hmm?”
“Take off my shirt.”
He stops kissing her for a moment. “Are you sure about this?” he says, pulling back and looking at her.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course I am,” she replies. “I’m in charge. You’re supposed to be doing what I tell you to."
“I know. I just…”
“Stop questioning. I’m old enough to know what I want, you know. And I’ve wanted you for a very, very long time. If I tell you to take off my shirt, it means I want you to take off my shirt. If I tell you to touch my breast, it means I want you to touch my breast. And if I tell you to…”
“I get it,” he says quickly, unsure that he won’t simply take her right there if she continues. He slowly begins to unbutton her shirt, unable to take his eyes off her chest as he slowly reveals it. She is wearing a simple, practical bra, but to him it is the most seductive lingerie one could find. He swallows nervously as he pulls the blouse off her arms and looks up at her expectantly, waiting for his next instruction.
“Now this,” she says, motioning at her bra. He can hardly believe what is happening but moves forward, wraps his arms around her and unhooks her bra. She kisses him as he does so and he is so distracted by her kisses that he almost forgets she is sitting half-naked in front of him.
She slides the bra down her arms and drops it on to the floor, then tugs at the hem of his T-shirt.
“Take this off,” she says. “Slowly. I want to watch.”
He lifts the T-shirt up as quickly as he can get away with. Once it is over his head, he discards it next to her clothing on the floor. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses against him.
Up until then, Percy had been doing quite a good job of ignoring what was going on in his trousers, but the second she touched him he became distinctly aware that his trousers were suddenly much tighter. He shifted slightly and licked his lips nervously, hoping she wouldn’t notice. It seemed she didn’t, because she kissed him and whispered for him to touch her breasts again.
He takes his time feeling his way up her stomach with one hand as the other pulls her head closer to his mouth. He lightly trails his fingers up her breast to her nipple, and she moans softly against his mouth when he finally touches her nipple. Her breasts are fairly small, but he prefers it – he can do much more with his fingers. He strokes her breast and rubs his thumb over her nipple, and each time she gasps or sighs or moans the tightness in his pants is slightly more unbearable.
She shifts suddenly, pulling away from him and pushing him back against the couch. With a swift movement, she is suddenly straddling his lap and pressing against his chest again. The second she straddles him Percy knows she is aware of his arousal and he blushes slightly. She grins at him and rubs against it experimentally. Percy can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth at the sudden friction, and he presses up, searching for more.
“Not yet,” she says, giggling. Percy blushes even more and she kisses him, tracing his lips with her tongue. Her hand seeks his out and she pulls it behind her so that he is grabbing her arse. Percy can’t help it; he pulls her forward so that she is resting against his erection again and he inhales. She moves against him and he is relieved when she moans, as well.
He uses one hand to draw tantalizing circles on the small of her back and the other to play with her breast. She bucks her hips against him suddenly and he thrusts up against her.
“Merlin, Percy,” she gasps, trailing her hands down his chest. She unbuttons his trousers and pulls down the zip, lifting herself slightly so she can pull them off him. She stands up and quickly undoes her own trousers, revealing white knickers. When she moves forward to join him on the sofa, he stops her.
“Wait,” he says, standing up. “Are you…”
“If you ask if I’m certain about this, I swear I’ll tie you down and do it myself,” she says. He debates the possibility for a moment but decides he’d rather be able to touch her, so sits back on the sofa. She grins and slowly, teasingly, pulls her knickers down.
Percy shifts nervously, but cannot stop staring at the naked woman in front of him. He licks his lips, admiring her smooth skin and toned legs and the curve of her hips. After a moment, Hermione clears her throat.
He wrenches his eyes away from her body and looks to her eyes. She is blushing, somewhat embarrassed. “Do you… like… me?” she stutters.
“Did you even have to ask?” he says.
She grins. “Stand up,” she says. He happily does so. She places her hands on his shoulders and kisses him, then drags her hands down his chest to the waistband of his boxer shorts and slowly pulls them down his legs, kneeling as she does so.
“Hmm,” she says as she looks at his cock.
“What’s ‘hmm?’” he asks, slightly panicking. She glances up at him and giggles.
“Nothing,” she replies. “You’re bigger than I thought.”
He doesn’t know which surprises him more: her comment or the fact that she’s thought about it. He decides not to worry about it, though, as she wraps her lips around him and sucks gently.
His mouth forms an ‘Oh!’ but no sound comes out. His knees almost buckle but he manages to steady himself against the wall behind him. She begins to pump him as she sucks and he groans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He wraps his fingers through her hair and does all he can not to simply thrust forward into her mouth. She sucks enthusiastically and he groans when she suddenly twirls her tongue around the tip.
“Hermione, if you don’t stop doing that… that… oh my… I’m going to…”
She pulls back just before he climaxes and he empties himself all over her chest. When he realises what he did, he feels his face go as red as it ever has.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. She stands up and rolls her eyes.
“Don’t be sorry, isn’t that the point of what I just did?” She grabs her wand, which is sitting on the table, and quickly casts a cleaning spell. “See, all gone.” She grins, and he can’t help but grin back.
“That was wonderful,” he tells her. “But aren’t you supposed to be teaching me?”
She shrugs and he moves forward, kissing her and walking her backwards until she finds the sofa. He gently pushes her backwards and kisses his way down her body. He licks at her nipples until she gasps and then licks down her stomach, dipping his tongue in her belly button. She moans and he continues, stopping just before he hits her center and moving his lips to the inside of her thigh. He kisses his way back up, teasing her, before licking her centre. She gasps and arches her back up against him. He sucks on the little bundle of nerves and presses a finger inside of her. The noises coming from her are throaty and breathy, and he adds another finger. He moves them inside her until she climaxes with a loud moan. He licks at her until she tugs on his hair lightly, making him look up.
“Come here,” she says, and he crawls up towards her. She kisses him, hard, moving her tongue against his mouth and he realises he is hard again when she rubs against his cock and moans into his mouth. He presses a hand to her breast and rubs her nipples.
“Percy,” she whispers.
“Hmm?”
“Sit up.”
He obeys and sits up on the couch. She wriggles out from underneath him and straddles his lap again.
“Hermione, are you absolutely…”
“What did I say about asking that?”
“I just want to make sure…”
“Percy, I swear I’ll tie you down.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”
She grins and presses against him, then slowly lowers herself onto his cock. They both moan in surprise, and she doesn’t move for a moment, allowing herself to adjust.
“Have you done this before?” he gasps. She shakes her head. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“No,” she says. “I… er… Viktor and I…”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Percy interrupts, preferring not to think of her and Viktor while she was with him.
“Good,” she says. She slowly starts to move on him, her breasts rubbing against his chest as she did so. He presses his lips to her neck, kissing her as she started moving faster. He moans and buries his face into it, unable to focus on moving his lips.
Her hands are on his shoulders and he can feel her nails digging into his skin as she moves against him. She moans in his ear and the sound of it makes him thrust up into her harder. He slides a hand between them and rubs his thumb against her nipple. His breathing quickens and he moves his mouth from her neck to her lips and kisses her hard. She is moaning into his mouth and bites down onto his lip.
“Hermione,” he pants, “I’m not… I’m really, really close…”
“Just a bit more,” she cries. “Not yet, just a little bit more…”
She moves even faster and pulls his hand down to her clit. He rubs and she moans.
“I’m sorry, Hermione, I have to… I can’t… any longer…” And he comes, hard, inside her. She doesn’t stop, continues to move for a few moments longer, until he feels her tightening around him and climax.
They sit on the couch, panting, unable to move for a few moments. Hermione is the first to move, leaning forward to kiss him softly. He kisses her back, lightly, trying to memorise the feeling of her lips against his. She rests against him, pressing her forehead to his.
“I’ve waited a long time for that,” she whispers. He smiles and kisses her again. She slowly moves off him and pulls him down so they are lying on the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too,” he replies, and kisses her neck. She snuggles against him and grabs her wand.
“Accio blanket,” she mutters, pointing her wand. There is a loud bang before a blanket flies out of Percy’s room and onto the couch.
“Rucksack,” he explains as she looks alarmed. “I was packing.”
“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt,” she replies. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer to him.