Amnesty fic 2: now *Harry* and Percy
Feb. 6th, 2004 01:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusYeah. I tried to finish this little tidbit. Warning for coitus interruptus.
A Night Out
by Icarus
The distant noise of Club Wyvern had shut behind them, thanks to the magic of cheap silencing charms and several blocks of a quiet walk. Their footsteps clicked and crunched, slightly out of step. Percy was taller than Harry, which seemed improbable since Harry was 'The Boy Who Lived', but there it was.
The Wyvern was one of Percy's favourites. He hoped Harry had enjoyed himself. As he'd seemed to. But he was here, and hadn't gone home with one of the many possibilities of the evening. Percy hadn't either, but he was his host and certainly it wasn't proper for him to disappear with a wave: 'see you tomorrow - hopefully very late.' So he had danced in the noisy, crowded club, enjoyed the floor show, laughing at Harry's bright fascinated eyes, then teased and flirted a great deal with pretty much everyone at the bar; but otherwise kept an eye on his guest.
Harry had done the same.
They walked wordlessly towards Harry's flat. They could have apparated, but didn't, instead prolonging the evening through some unspoken agreement.
The streets were quiet and empty, a yellow lamplight sheen on cobbles slicked by fog, mist and the slow blue crawl of dawn over the horizon. Percy was tensely aware of Harry's breathing, slow and deep, and how Harry's hands were shoved into his pockets, bulging them out at the sides. Something else also bulged, but they both pretended to ignore that even as they sneaked furtive glances. By the look of things, Harry really ought to have found someone this evening. It was the whole point, wasn't it? To get Harry's mind off his ex-boyfriend and current troubles?
Percy wasn't in any better state, but he was in no mood to go back to the club, which had been his original plan.
Harry kicked a pebble, skillfully ricocheting it off a wall, a trash bin, and then back to the wall with a clatter. Percy didn't participate though he admired the skill; he always looked silly when he missed, so he tactfully avoided the risk. Harry's hair was shiny-black in this light. Percy had never noticed that before.
And then they were there. At Harry's flat.
It was an... an awfully short walk, wasn't it? Percy felt somewhat distressed by that fact, and slowed as they approached those last few steps. Though it was too late. And they hadn't even spoken, their entire walk.
Percy cleared his throat.
"Well, now. That was a pleasant evening." His voice seemed uncouth and loud, echoing in the alley beside the tall townhouse that held Harry's flat. The building had three stories that Muggles could see, though Harry lived on a bespelled fifth floor. "Nice to get one dance in without finding ourselves on the front page of The Daily Prophet."
That had been in the men's room, when they were both buzzed and more or less alone. Harry had been joking around.
"Um, yeah. It was nice." Harry's breath caught like smoke in the gentle morning wind. He looked up at his flat, (or where it was since it was invisible from this angle), as if it were a very long way away.
They were silent a moment.
"Yes," Percy said. Just to fill the space.
"Yeah," Harry added, which for some reason made both of them snicker and stare down at the cobblestones.
Percy hoped they wouldn't wake Harry's landlady who was a squib and, for all her wizard-tenants on those extra floors, did not like wizard-kind at all. Successful squibs were almost always like that.
He sighed. The breath was misty-golden from the streetlamps.
"Well. I must be going," he said reluctantly and he turned to go home.
"Percy -"
Harry's eyes were as shiny as his hair; Percy expected a thank-you-it-was-a-great-night.
"Doyouwanttocmup?"
Percy blinked. "I - I'm sorry?" But he had understood, he just didn't believe....
Harry licked his lips, and looked about nervously. "Do you want to come up? For a little bit?"
It was a long moment between one heartbeat and the next.
"Yes," Percy finally breathed. "I would like that."
~*~*~
"Hold on."
Harry held the door to his flat partially closed as Percy hovered nervously in the empty hallway. It was dim, but the stairwell was starting to grow light with the dawn, and unreasonably Percy didn't want to be caught here by the neighbors, like some suitor who'd crawled in through the window.
There was a slight clatter of a cursory clean-up bumping on the other side of that door, a muffled "Reducio!" and other spells. Then Harry returned with an embarrassed, glassy-eyed grin as he let Percy in.
"Um. Sorry about the mess. Wasn't expecting company."
It was dark in his rather small studio; Harry wisely hadn't bothered with a lamp. The room had that familiar bachelor smell of old Chinese food and damp socks. A squat couch was highlighted under the east window; the squarish blocky table in front of it - which was striped and looked like it had been transfigured from something else - was littered with newspaper and some carefully stacked dirty dishes. The far corner alcove was dominated by a promisingly over-sized, if unmade, four-poster bed. The arm of a hastily put away shirt dangled out of a dresser drawer beside it.
Percy's breath was shuddery, shaky as he drew it. His heart hammered as he undid the top button of his shirt.
Harry dropped to the couch - plomph - and quickly captured a pair of underwear from the arm, which he flicked underneath with deft gesture. Percy wondered if those would ever be seen again as he sank to the leather beside him…
…and then he was kissing Harry.
Quick hands slid along his back, and drew him close, pulled Percy on top where he was not used to and his jeans were rough; Harry's knee slid between his thighs, spreading them, pressed in a smooth collision where - oh - and Harry sighed, a moist pant in his hair. The scrape of an unshaved cheek against his jaw. And Percy's hands, hitherto useless, followed the moving warm curve of Harry's chest, waist, found his hips, jutted against him. Rustled around and cupped the curve of an oh-so-hard cheek - thank god for athletes - while Harry's hand captured the front of Percy's trousers with a suppressed grunt, and squeezed.
A Night Out
by Icarus
The distant noise of Club Wyvern had shut behind them, thanks to the magic of cheap silencing charms and several blocks of a quiet walk. Their footsteps clicked and crunched, slightly out of step. Percy was taller than Harry, which seemed improbable since Harry was 'The Boy Who Lived', but there it was.
The Wyvern was one of Percy's favourites. He hoped Harry had enjoyed himself. As he'd seemed to. But he was here, and hadn't gone home with one of the many possibilities of the evening. Percy hadn't either, but he was his host and certainly it wasn't proper for him to disappear with a wave: 'see you tomorrow - hopefully very late.' So he had danced in the noisy, crowded club, enjoyed the floor show, laughing at Harry's bright fascinated eyes, then teased and flirted a great deal with pretty much everyone at the bar; but otherwise kept an eye on his guest.
Harry had done the same.
They walked wordlessly towards Harry's flat. They could have apparated, but didn't, instead prolonging the evening through some unspoken agreement.
The streets were quiet and empty, a yellow lamplight sheen on cobbles slicked by fog, mist and the slow blue crawl of dawn over the horizon. Percy was tensely aware of Harry's breathing, slow and deep, and how Harry's hands were shoved into his pockets, bulging them out at the sides. Something else also bulged, but they both pretended to ignore that even as they sneaked furtive glances. By the look of things, Harry really ought to have found someone this evening. It was the whole point, wasn't it? To get Harry's mind off his ex-boyfriend and current troubles?
Percy wasn't in any better state, but he was in no mood to go back to the club, which had been his original plan.
Harry kicked a pebble, skillfully ricocheting it off a wall, a trash bin, and then back to the wall with a clatter. Percy didn't participate though he admired the skill; he always looked silly when he missed, so he tactfully avoided the risk. Harry's hair was shiny-black in this light. Percy had never noticed that before.
And then they were there. At Harry's flat.
It was an... an awfully short walk, wasn't it? Percy felt somewhat distressed by that fact, and slowed as they approached those last few steps. Though it was too late. And they hadn't even spoken, their entire walk.
Percy cleared his throat.
"Well, now. That was a pleasant evening." His voice seemed uncouth and loud, echoing in the alley beside the tall townhouse that held Harry's flat. The building had three stories that Muggles could see, though Harry lived on a bespelled fifth floor. "Nice to get one dance in without finding ourselves on the front page of The Daily Prophet."
That had been in the men's room, when they were both buzzed and more or less alone. Harry had been joking around.
"Um, yeah. It was nice." Harry's breath caught like smoke in the gentle morning wind. He looked up at his flat, (or where it was since it was invisible from this angle), as if it were a very long way away.
They were silent a moment.
"Yes," Percy said. Just to fill the space.
"Yeah," Harry added, which for some reason made both of them snicker and stare down at the cobblestones.
Percy hoped they wouldn't wake Harry's landlady who was a squib and, for all her wizard-tenants on those extra floors, did not like wizard-kind at all. Successful squibs were almost always like that.
He sighed. The breath was misty-golden from the streetlamps.
"Well. I must be going," he said reluctantly and he turned to go home.
"Percy -"
Harry's eyes were as shiny as his hair; Percy expected a thank-you-it-was-a-great-night.
"Doyouwanttocmup?"
Percy blinked. "I - I'm sorry?" But he had understood, he just didn't believe....
Harry licked his lips, and looked about nervously. "Do you want to come up? For a little bit?"
It was a long moment between one heartbeat and the next.
"Yes," Percy finally breathed. "I would like that."
~*~*~
"Hold on."
Harry held the door to his flat partially closed as Percy hovered nervously in the empty hallway. It was dim, but the stairwell was starting to grow light with the dawn, and unreasonably Percy didn't want to be caught here by the neighbors, like some suitor who'd crawled in through the window.
There was a slight clatter of a cursory clean-up bumping on the other side of that door, a muffled "Reducio!" and other spells. Then Harry returned with an embarrassed, glassy-eyed grin as he let Percy in.
"Um. Sorry about the mess. Wasn't expecting company."
It was dark in his rather small studio; Harry wisely hadn't bothered with a lamp. The room had that familiar bachelor smell of old Chinese food and damp socks. A squat couch was highlighted under the east window; the squarish blocky table in front of it - which was striped and looked like it had been transfigured from something else - was littered with newspaper and some carefully stacked dirty dishes. The far corner alcove was dominated by a promisingly over-sized, if unmade, four-poster bed. The arm of a hastily put away shirt dangled out of a dresser drawer beside it.
Percy's breath was shuddery, shaky as he drew it. His heart hammered as he undid the top button of his shirt.
Harry dropped to the couch - plomph - and quickly captured a pair of underwear from the arm, which he flicked underneath with deft gesture. Percy wondered if those would ever be seen again as he sank to the leather beside him…
…and then he was kissing Harry.
Quick hands slid along his back, and drew him close, pulled Percy on top where he was not used to and his jeans were rough; Harry's knee slid between his thighs, spreading them, pressed in a smooth collision where - oh - and Harry sighed, a moist pant in his hair. The scrape of an unshaved cheek against his jaw. And Percy's hands, hitherto useless, followed the moving warm curve of Harry's chest, waist, found his hips, jutted against him. Rustled around and cupped the curve of an oh-so-hard cheek - thank god for athletes - while Harry's hand captured the front of Percy's trousers with a suppressed grunt, and squeezed.