Harry/Percy under construction
Jun. 30th, 2003 07:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusYes. Harry/Percy - sounds unlikely, but give it a shot. The ending's written (on paper) now, just working out the sensual details.
Skinny Dipping
by Icarus
The night air was cool after such a hot summer's day, and Harry brushed through the bushes, almost losing his footing on the rough ground as he followed the vague rustling shape in front of him. He ducked, just as a branch came whipping back into his face. "Ow. Hey -"
"Sorry."
The two of them crunched through the darkness softly, staccato steps and the swish of trousers. Harry's eyes began to adjust, slowly. Trees formed themselves out of moonlight and darkness, more crisp and vivid, no longer ethereal foggy shapes to stumble against.
"C'mon," Ron's voice floated back to him. They both whispered for no reason they could understand except that it was dark, and the moon glistened on the leaves around the Burrow and it seemed as if all the world was asleep. That and the fact that they weren't supposed to be awake, let alone out. "It's just over this rise. Weird, how everything looks different."
It did. They had been this way earlier that day under the fresh summer sky, dripping with sweat, but called back to dinner all too soon, before they could do anything. Ron had said they'd sneak out and come back tonight, shhh. Well, Harry climbed the last little hill that hadn't seemed so steep or treacherous earlier - and here they were.
A cool breeze lifted his hair first, its lingering touch on Harry's cheek was scented and damp with lake-smell, slightly fishy but clean, almost too cold now. It was hard to picture swimming actually, but Ron said it would be great. Harry caught up with Ron and paused at the top of the slight rise, and they gazed down a short little path that wandered between brambles. At its end below them, the lake glistened deep blue and silver with moonsplash, half-hidden by the sweep of willowtrees. It was little more than a pond by daylight, but the night had transformed it into a beckoning mysterious paradise, alight under the half moon.
They both looked for a breathless moment; and then Ron, who had clearly seen this before, tore off down the hill. "Race you!"
His voice bounced off the water, far too loud, shattering the peace — but he was quickly far ahead. Harry bounded after him, poured on speed to overtake him, ignored the catch and pull of prickers as he dodged left then right down the narrow path, soon close behind the panting Ron, who looked back — but couldn't seem to go any faster. Harry ignored the stray thought that Aunt Petunia would kill him if he got rips. Though maybe she'd be forced to get him new clothes. Newer, rather. The crash of the bushes was raucous, but Ron won with that headstart and Harry nearly ran into him at the sudden edge of the water and skidded to a halt, both of them panting and giggling.
Ron bent over with his hands on his knees, laughing and breathless, like he had a stitch in his side. Harry could see his face now, blue and grey in the sudden light. He was grinning like a fool; he toed off his shoes.
"Gotcha," said Ron. His voice was low, but still carried across the water.
"Oh, right. I would have won if you hadn't cheated!" Harry whisper-laughed. It was surprising how loud they were, even when they were trying to be quiet. The wind shifted, bringing a sweet flower-scent. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and, as the cool air hit him, glanced at the water with trepidation. This seemed like a much better idea when it was broiling hot outside. But they had only one more day free before the World Quidditch Cup.
"Hunh. Well, colour me Slytherin then, but it was still nice to win for a change." Ron kicked off his jeans and yanked his shirt up by the collar; the fabric scruffed up under his arms. "You'd think being tall would be good for something…" His grumble was nearly lost in fabric.
Harry blinked at Ron standing there in his boxers, his head buried in and struggling out of his tight T-shirt. Harry hadn't brought any swim trunks, and for some reason that just occurred to him. For one thing, he didn't own any. The Dursleys never took him swimming, probably in hopes that he wouldn't learn how to swim and drown someday. Anyhow, the idea of wearing Dudley's hand-me-down swim trunks was too disgusting for words.
"Um. I didn't bring any swim trunks," he confessed. The water was probably ice-cold anyway, Harry tried to reassure himself and quash his blooming disappointment. Ron won free of his shirt and tossed it to the ground.
"Don't worry about that. We don't need those — no girls here." Ron grinned, and promptly pulled down his pants. He stepped out of them, naked as a jaybird, not that Harry was looking at the bouncing cock that seemed astoundingly, disturbingly white in the moonlight. It was just — weird — to see so much of Ron all of the sudden. "Hurry up!" Ron said. "It's freezing out here, and I'm not waiting for you. I bet the water's perfect."
He turned, and gingerly stepped to the water's edge, suddenly lifting a foot with a wince like he'd stepped on a pebble. Then he dipped in a toe between the rushes and water lilies. His skin was whiter than white: Ron didn't tan, he just got more freckles. Harry raised his eyebrows at him. If there was a half moon in the sky, he was getting the full moon right now. Ron had a big arse.
"Ohhh," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes in bliss, "it's practically bath water!" He waded out with a slight splash, and the water shivered in broken moonlit sparkles about him. "Well - c'mon," he told Harry impatiently.
Harry shook off his reverie and began to work at his belt, considerably more nervous than Ron had been. This midnight swim had suddenly taken on new uncomfortable meaning, and he didn't want to miss a bit of it. He pulled his trousers and pants down together with a jingle of belt buckle, and only then realized that he hadn't taken off his shoes. Bare-bottomed, he sat on the gravel-sand-grass, with much of it sticking to sensitive skin as he untied and yanked off his shoes; he blushed. But Ron didn't mention it, or maybe didn't notice as he played in the water. Harry regretfully pulled off his glasses.
Ron had waded out further, and was now a dark splotch against silver, surrounded by shadow lilies and cattails. The water made a playful tinkling sound as he stroked his hands in a circle along the surface.
"The first inch or so is the warmest," he purred.
Harry was willing to bet Ron was making all this up, just to see his face when he stepped into freezing cold water - sometimes Ron could be as bad as his brothers - and he vowed to wade in slowly. The cool air made him shiver, pebbled his bare skin as he braced himself for the plunge; even his balls winced at the idea, it just didn't seem possible the water could be warm. Harry could not have felt more naked and vulnerable as he tried to hide himself behind skinny arms.
Suddenly, the dark Ron-shape bent to the water, his hands skimmed the silver and, gliding with a gentle splash, disappeared in an eerie shimmer.
Moments later he broke the surface with a resounding whoosh, further out. The surface of the lake shattered. He shook his head, cascaded water and a splatter of droplets, laughed and spluttered. He called out to Harry: "Whew!" he said. "Are you gonna to stand there bare naked all night, or are you gonna swim?" He splashed an arc of water at Harry.
That was it. Harry plunged the first few feet into the water; the muddy bottom squelched between his toes.
He was astonished. Ron was right. It was like bath water poured onto cool water and not given a chance to mix, and immediately the cool air seemed icy and unbearable. He crouched, waded, then sank into the water's warm embrace; he half-waded and half dog-paddled towards the middle of the lake. He was nervously aware that he was sharing this lake with someone who wasn't wearing anything. Ron, Harry reminded himself. He winced and determined that certain parts of him were going to stay underwater if they didn't start behaving better. Being fourteen was as unpredictable as hell.
But Ron had vanished. There was only a shudder of wavelets where he'd been, moments before. Harry stood, suddenly alarmed. His mind went to the giant squid at Hogwarts and he wondered if anything like that could fit in a pond this small.
Suddenly, a slick grip wrapped around his ankle and Harry found his ears ringing — and underwater. It was dark, colder at the bottom, shockingly silent as he struggled. Harry choked and immediately got a mouthful; in slow motion he flailed and managed to kick his foot free, to break for what he hoped was the surface. Hands grabbed him again, about the hips and something warm and slippery nudged up beneath him…
…and he broke the surface, hoisted onto Ron's shoulder. For three seconds. Before Ron tossed him into the cold air, arms spinning, backwards to smack with a solid splash on rock-hard water.
Harry stood and breathed, coughed a bit. Several (safe) feet away, Ron snickered, then burst out laughing.
"You fucking bastard," Harry laughed. He shook his head and dove at Ron before he could escape.
Ron tried to run through the water instead of swimming, hampered with loud, thick splashes — a critical error; Harry quickly seized an armload of sleek stringy muscle, easily overbalanced if you landed on his back with all your weight. They both went under.
When they surfaced, spluttering and laughing, they found they'd rolled in what turned out to be knee-deep water. And muck. Ron had seaweed and a slimy lilypad trailing down his back; his chest heaved. Harry was smeared in mud, and laughed at Ron as he made a face and slowly reached up to peel off the offending lilypad with two fingers and exaggerated distaste. He dangled it over the water.
The moonlit tableau of the two naked boys froze; the willows whispered in what was suddenly a very wet, very cold breeze. Ron's grin widened, and Harry watched his next idea play clearly across narrowing gleam of his eyes.
They both moved at once — Harry seized a handful of lilypad as he dodged Ron's slimy missile. Ron had another in hand as Harry missed badly, and dove sideways to the safety of deeper water; he felt the thwack of slime hit his back. Shit.
The battle raged on for a good twenty minutes. Ron babysat the 'ammo' keeping Harry at bay. Harry relied on his superior speed and ability to dive, vanish, and catch Ron unawares; but his incursions were always successfully repelled by a barrage of green slimy-best-not-to-think-what-it-is muck.
Stalemate. Panting, they grinned at each other across the silvery water, now thoroughly churned and riddled with the floating carnage of their seaweed war. Harry had ceased to notice Ron was naked, and in fact, had forgotten he was as well. Their strategies were clearly evenly matched, and something had to give. Harry knew that he'd have to be more daring in the attack. Ron, a worthy opponent, was clearly waiting for him to wear out. What's more - he was right! Harry circled slowly, recovering, while Ron taunted him to attack before he was rested.
No dice. Harry wasn't falling for it. Ron threw a couple of out-of-range splatters, just to keep him moving; he dodged lightly. Harry laughed breathlessly, his exhaustion revealed in the ragged edge of his voice. Whoops. Oh shit. Ron knew he was almost done for, that this next attack had to be it. Ron circled the slime patch warily, with the squared shoulders of the certain victor.
What Harry needed was reinforcements, or failing that — a distraction. He searched the sky. Another splatter skittered across the water, sent mini silver wavelets and missed by a mile; Harry didn't even dodge. The stars twinkled peacefully above, unaware of their war. Meanwhile the willows on the shore did no more than brush the surface of the water with their leaves. No help there either.
"Ron!? Harry Potter? What on earth are you two doing up? This is not our property!"
Percy. Saved!
Ron looked around in sudden guilt and Harry seized the advantage, barreling down on him and grabbing lilypads on the way. Ron's eyes widened; he uselessly flung up an arm at the sudden barrage of slime as Harry leaped —
… the slick, smooth slide of skin on skin, the burble of underwater chaos as Harry got clipped on the ear with an elbow but by the time they surfaced, Harry was definitively on top. He pinned Ron's legs to the murky bottom, but let Ron sit up on his elbows in the shallow water.
Ron wore a layer of half-rinsed decorative slime, was cursing a blue streak… and he laughed, and laughed and laughed.
Percy rustled down the hill, an irritated bustle through the thorn bushes. Though he clearly knew the way, Harry noted.
He was already shouting at them as he came into view. "Ron Weasley, you are lucky that I won't wake mother at this indecent hour, but when I tell her, you —!"
He stopped mid-sentence. His vague shadowy shape registered shock in every line as he squeaked, "What are you doing?"
Ron and Harry looked at each other, puzzled. What was wrong?
Then they realised at once: they were stark naked. Harry was straddled over Ron's lap. Oh, wow, this looked dodgy. And suddenly felt really strange, too. Harry was instantly aware of where his cock slid along Ron's thigh, how cool his skin was underwater. The slop and play of water against his back. He scrambled up, the murky water splashed, and Ron quickly crab-crawled away in a backward scuttle.
Of course, this was not wise, as Percy could now see clearly Harry was quite naked, a fact hidden by the lake a moment before. Harry sat back down in the warm water quickly, not sure what to do. An instant later he understood with a flash how guilty their sudden dash must have looked, too. Oh god….
Ron must have realised the same thing, because he put his head in his hands with a groan and laughed weakly. But he recovered quickly. He turned to face Percy.
"Hey, Percy, come on in!" Ron called out. "Come swimming — the water's great."
Good save, Harry thought, relieved. "Yeah. Come on in, Percy," he added. He kind of wanted to see that, all of the sudden. Who had ever seen Percy relax?
"Is that what you're doing? Swimming?" Percy's voice came from the shadows on the shore, several meters away.
"Of course it is. What do you think we're doing?" Ron splashed a bit in Percy's direction. It pattered along the shore, and the vague shape shifted away. Of course, they damn well knew what Percy had thought.
"Oh." Percy said, softly. "Oh, well then. Nevermind." He took a breath, and clearly tried regather his outrage, though it was half-hearted at this point. "You're very loud and some people have to get up in the morning —"
Harry looked quizzically at Ron, who mouthed 'light sleeper.'
"— and you ought to be in bed. You didn't even bring your emergency portkey!" He held out something that crinkled like a used candy wrapper. Portkey? Harry wondered what that was. "Mother would be worried sick if she noticed. What if something had happened? You're coming back with me, right now. Both of you."
"All right, all right. But with the World Cup coming, this was pretty much our last day of summer —" Ron began.
" — I'm not hearing any excuses from you, Ronald Weasley." Harry squinted and could vaguely make out Percy folding his arms on the shore. Trust Percy to spoil their fun. He probably didn't know how to swim.
Ron sighed heavily, and started to get up; water dripped off of him dispiritedly. "Don't suppose you brought any towels?"
"And you didn't?" Percy's tone was exasperated.
"Nah. But it's all right. We'll just dry off with our t-shirts."
Harry moved in close to where Percy stood, but was reluctant to get out of the water just yet. He stood. It was a little deeper here, and the water lapped around his waist. Being naked with Ron was one thing — they were best friends, and had shared a dorm for three years already. Anything that they hadn't seen would had to have been due to blindness. But he had an audience now.
"Harry's our guest, Ron. You don't make him dry off with his t-shirt. Go fetch some Kwik-Dri towels — here." He tossed Ron the strange crinkley object. He missed, but it floated and Ron scooped it out of the water.
"Be right back," Ron waved cheerily. And he suddenly vanished.
Circles of subtle waves expanded from where he'd stood just a moment before, and Harry glanced about, nonplused. But Percy acted as if this were entirely natural, so he supposed it was.
The air stilled, and Harry noted the trail of moonlight on the water had shifted somewhat. The water lapped against the shore gently, a soft wet sound.
Percy sat down on the shore with a sigh. "Sorry. It'll be a while. Emergency portkeys are one-way. That one goes straight to the Burrow. Ron will still have to dry off, get the towels, get dressed, walk all the way back — and knowing him, he'll probably stop for a snack too, while he's at it."
Harry chuckled. Ron had been eating like a horse lately.
Percy seemed to brighten a little at this response, and Harry decided he was probably a little lonely, stuck up in his room all summer long. What would it be like, to not have summer hols anymore? He returned to his original idea.
"So come swimming." Harry grinned. His arms stroked under the surface of the water.
"Oh, uh, no. I — I shouldn't."
"Why not?" Harry asked. "You're here anyway. You said yourself Ron won't be back for a while. Why sit on the shore and be bored, if you can swim? You can swim, can't you?"
"Of course I can!" Percy said, indignant. Harry smiled to himself: he was not surprised that got under his skin. "I just haven't… in a while."
Harry waited, stroking the warm water languidly. It was so nice, what was the hold up?
"I didn't bring any swim trunks…"
Harry snorted. "That's no problem. You saw my, er, swim trunks."
"Oh…" Percy began to cave. He stood and glanced around surreptitiously, as if his boss might be here to catch him taking an illicit break. Harry could almost see him lick his lips. "Oh, all right. But don't look!" he admonished.
His shirt rucked up under his arms as he pulled it off with alacrity, and Harry noted that Percy was a lot slimmer than Fred and George, but more filled out than Ron; probably because he was older. He had a very long waist, while Ron was all leg. His skin was suddenly luminous-pale as he carefully set aside his shirt with an embarrassed air, glancing around as if he were doing something very naughty, rather than just going for a simple swim. He had very few freckles, surprisingly, and he almost glowed, ghostly, in the moonlight. He pulled down his trousers. He had kind of skinny legs. Maybe that was his problem. Otherwise, Harry didn't see anything to complain about. He had a nice chest.
Harry realised that he was looking after all. But he hadn't considered looking until Percy mentioned it, and now he couldn't quite look away. It was like telling someone 'don't think of an olive' — suddenly, that's all they can think of.
Percy's eyes met Harry's briefly, but he didn't look annoyed that Harry was staring. Not at all; in fact, if Harry were to guess, he seemed, well — pleased. Flattered. But he did carefully turn away as he pulled down his pants. Oh, that wasn't fair. He'd seen all of Harry.
Percy looked over his shoulder at Harry then, and made a brisk spiraling motion for Harry to turn around. Harry sighed, and obeyed, though he couldn't resist a surreptitious glance as that pale, lean body gingerly stepped into the water. It wasn't as if he could see much without his glasses anyway. Percy of all people should know that.
Then a voice whispered, a soft breath just over his shoulder "Okay, you can turn around now."
Harry spun, so quickly he clipped Percy with an elbow. "Oh. Sorry." How'd he get so close like that?!
"It's okay." Percy's voice seemed so soft. Not what Harry was used to. At all.
They were standing very close, though of course they had to, since they both had their glasses off, right? Harry's heart did a little flutter. The water here came up to his waist, but Percy was somewhat taller, and the silver waves lapped at his hips, barely covering…
Harry forced his eyes up. His breath sped, light and shallow.
He had a really long smooth waist and narrow chest that was nicely sculpted, not muscular, no, but still nice. They both stood there, so close, looking each other up and down. He really had very nice skin, too, it looked as silky as the water, and Percy looked different, rather naked without the glasses. An odd hysterical thought flitted across his mind that he didn't look naked, he was naked, and if Percy were wearing his glasses right now, would he be any less naked, really? His eyes were very soft, and dark, and rather compelling. Not at all like the Percy he knew from school.
And then he saw Percy swallow.
That's when he knew.
Harry berated himself mentally. How stupid was it, to not think there were gay wizards? But he hadn't pictured it, really. He had thought of it as a Muggle thing somehow, something not of the wizarding world. Otherwise he would have figured it out sooner, why Percy gave in so easily, and was in the water, devouring him with his eyes. Harry glanced down. And although he couldn't tell, it was too dark and the moonlight reflected off the water brilliantly, it was all too easy for him to picture Percy growing hard under the surface. Harry certainly was.
Not now! Not now! he told himself, not that it listened. Fourteen was hell.
Percy took a shuddering breath, and looked away miserably. "I… I shouldn't. This wasn't such a good idea."
"No, no, it's okay," Harry whispered desperately. His hand was on Percy's arm of its own accord — he touched him! and oh, his skin was like silk and so warm — before Percy could turn away. "It's all right," he said, though he truly wasn't picturing what it was that was all right. But he didn't want Percy to turn away.
"Really?" Percy said. His eyes lit with hope.
"Oy! Harry!" Ron crashed through the brush. "You got Percy into the water! Good for you!"
He threw off his clothes again with amazing speed.
Percy and Harry of course were already miles apart — they had spun away even faster than Harry and Ron had.
"But I don't have enough towels now," Ron complained. The water splashed in white fountains at his legs as he plunged through.
"Harry can use my towel," Percy said graciously. Their eyes met for brief meaningful moment.
"Great!" Ron clapped Harry on the back, which left cool, wet handprint, then said in a stage whisper: "let's dunk Percy."
They rounded on Percy, who had his arms out, fingers spread as he backed away with a nervous laugh. "Oh, no you don't…"
Bad move, Percy. He backed towards deep water, where he couldn't escape.
Harry was wickedly glad of the excuse.
~*~*~
Harry lay awake on a soft pillow with unintelligible thoughts and images and feelings whirling through his mind. They got back not quite as late as he'd feared, and Ron now breathed soundly, fast asleep.
He and Percy had dunked each other more times than was strictly decent, and he was more than sure he'd been groped a couple of those times. Certainly Harry had taken advantage. Percy had been hard under the water. Harry thought of that with a blaze of heat. If Ron noticed it, he'd chalked it up to the unpredictability of male anatomy and didn't comment. Or tease, which was more likely where Percy was concerned.
Harry counted mentally, and noticed that Percy had been very careful to dunk Ron and Harry an exactly equal number of times. And that was a good word to describe Percy: careful. Which didn't bode well for the future, especially considering Harry had only one more day at the Burrow, and Percy had to be at work for all of it. Why didn't this happen last year, when they were both at school?
Harry turned over and sighed with frustration. Ron had to come back just then, didn't he?
He heard a faint clunk. Downstairs, through the floor. He listened again. Soft footsteps on the wood floor. It was coming from the kitchen.
Harry stumbled in the grey darkness of Ron's room, felt about for his jeans. He pulled them on and listened once more. No sound. He might be too late. He decided to abandon the idea of finding his t-shirt in Ron's mess and slid out the door.
His heart pounding in his throat, Harry tiptoed down the stairs. He winced at the step that squeaked, right at the bottom. Forgot about that. He glanced up the stairs at the twins' room, figuring they were the most likely disaster. Nothing stirred.
He looked towards the kitchen again… and found a shadowy someone standing the kitchen doorway. None of the lights were on. Harry's heart thumped.
Percy.
Harry couldn't breath.
Percy was in his dressing-gown, which looked so hopelessly old fashioned, and so… Percy. Harry found it painfully sweet all of the sudden. Percy's glasses were on again, which was strange in this context, because Harry was now used to seeing him without them. Without a lot of things in fact. He liked it better without them. Harry was intensely aware of his own bare chest and the soft sound of breathing in the darkened room.
Percy said softly, "I, uh, couldn't sleep."
He gestured politely towards the kitchen, a weird courtly mannerism, and Harry remembered why people made fun of Percy, with his horn-rimmed glasses and old-fashioned, snooty ways. Harry flushed at the jokes he recalled, because he remembered, now, how piercingly vulnerable Percy had been at the lake. Harry padded into the kitchen. Since Percy was dressed, Harry wished he'd put on his t-shirt.
"Would you like some warm milk?" Percy asked.
Warm milk!? Number one — yuck! Number two, just how old did Percy think he was?
"I had some," Percy said, with a little laugh, "but it didn't work."
Oh.
Percy hovered at the table, but didn't sit down. Harry leaned gingerly against the kitchen doorjamb. It felt cool on his bare skin. The moon was still up, and it filtered through the windows. Percy looked Harry up, then down. Harry shivered slightly. He had a sudden sense that he looked really good in just his jeans, as Percy looked again.
"I have to go to work. In a few hours," Percy said.
This sounded very familiar. Harry swallowed, and waited, for the second time that night. But this time he knew what he was waiting for.
Percy didn't add anything.
"Okay," Harry said, vaguely disappointed.
"It would be really irresponsible…" Percy sighed.
Yes! That was a yes! Harry's heart soared as he tried not to smile.
"You're up anyway," Harry shrugged. He tried so hard to be casual, but couldn't.
Percy looked at him, eyes intense behind the glasses. A subtle smile played at his lips.
"You won't sleep anyway," Harry pressed his advantage.
"True enough…" Percy said breathlessly. He took a few steps towards Harry. Then brushed through the kitchen door. "I'll get my jeans, okay?" He was close enough for Harry to feel the heat of him, to see the glimmer along his glasses and those dark, dark eyes. What colour were Percy's eyes? Harry realised he didn't know.
Harry panicked for a moment, even as he nodded. Don't go! What if he changed his mind, and stayed upstairs? He leaned towards him a little at the painful thought, unintentionally. Percy paused a moment, his eyes suddenly open and so dark, his face oddly young and innocent. His lips touched Harry's softly, unexpected, and Harry gave a startled whimper. Then opened to him, devoured in heat. Too soon, Percy pulled away, "not here," his voice was almost a whimper, too, and he was breathing hard. It was a promise. Harry didn't worry about him leaving now. Harry didn't think to get his t-shirt, but just waited.
They didn't need to decide where to go.
On the walk to the lake, they stayed very close to each other, an intense wordless communication, but didn't touch. At the top of the little hill they paused.
The moon had sunk low in the sky and was huge and brilliantly orange. The familiar cattails and willows were outlined against the play of orange water.
"It's beautiful," Percy murmured, his voice shocking after so much urgent silence. Harry merely swallowed and nodded, his head spinning as it had in Ron's room. They were really going down there...
They walked single file down the trail, Harry slightly ahead of Percy, and it seemed a lot longer than Harry remembered.
They reached the shore and Harry remembered his earlier embarrassment with Ron with a kind of nostalgia. Now this, being here with Percy, was embarrassing. There was a sound of crickets that he hadn't noticed earlier, a few rustles in the bushes that perhaps Ron's mad dash had scared off before.
Percy, so sensitive, seemed to notice Harry's hesitation. He paused in the shadows under a willow, hovered close to the trail like he might go right back up it.
"You don't have to, you know." That gentle voice, so different from what Harry knew as Percy.
Harry blinked at hearing his doubts echoed.
And that would be it, wouldn't it? Gone. He would go to school, Percy would go back to work. And there would never, ever, be another chance.
No way.
Harry sat down on the grass, and began to untie his shoe, making that his answer. Harry was grateful to hear the relieved sigh.
"Here," Percy sat down next to him, "let me help." Which was a good thing, because Harry's hands were shaking so much. But Percy's hands shook, too. Harry wondered if he hadn't done this very much? and looked up at him, a little startled.
But Percy chewed his lip nervously as he pulled off Harry's shoe, and didn't notice.
Could one even ask a question like that? Harry decided not to; at least not right now.
And it was weird, because up close, breathing against his face, was Percy, with Percy's glasses, and Percy's clothes; Ron's brother. Who was a Prefect and Head Boy and worked for the Ministry, and was so much older than him. It was too much Percy, and not the sleek, beautiful creation that he had swum naked with earlier.
He touched Percy's hand. Percy looked up, a glimmer ran along his glasses.
"I want to see you naked." He couldn't explain why.
Percy moaned softly then, and stripped his shirt off with the alacrity Harry remembered from earlier that night, and his cock swelled almost immediately. Everything was fine. Harry's lips parted as soon as he saw his chest, creamy-pale, curvy and long. He glistened with sweat and moonlight.
Skinny Dipping
by Icarus
The night air was cool after such a hot summer's day, and Harry brushed through the bushes, almost losing his footing on the rough ground as he followed the vague rustling shape in front of him. He ducked, just as a branch came whipping back into his face. "Ow. Hey -"
"Sorry."
The two of them crunched through the darkness softly, staccato steps and the swish of trousers. Harry's eyes began to adjust, slowly. Trees formed themselves out of moonlight and darkness, more crisp and vivid, no longer ethereal foggy shapes to stumble against.
"C'mon," Ron's voice floated back to him. They both whispered for no reason they could understand except that it was dark, and the moon glistened on the leaves around the Burrow and it seemed as if all the world was asleep. That and the fact that they weren't supposed to be awake, let alone out. "It's just over this rise. Weird, how everything looks different."
It did. They had been this way earlier that day under the fresh summer sky, dripping with sweat, but called back to dinner all too soon, before they could do anything. Ron had said they'd sneak out and come back tonight, shhh. Well, Harry climbed the last little hill that hadn't seemed so steep or treacherous earlier - and here they were.
A cool breeze lifted his hair first, its lingering touch on Harry's cheek was scented and damp with lake-smell, slightly fishy but clean, almost too cold now. It was hard to picture swimming actually, but Ron said it would be great. Harry caught up with Ron and paused at the top of the slight rise, and they gazed down a short little path that wandered between brambles. At its end below them, the lake glistened deep blue and silver with moonsplash, half-hidden by the sweep of willowtrees. It was little more than a pond by daylight, but the night had transformed it into a beckoning mysterious paradise, alight under the half moon.
They both looked for a breathless moment; and then Ron, who had clearly seen this before, tore off down the hill. "Race you!"
His voice bounced off the water, far too loud, shattering the peace — but he was quickly far ahead. Harry bounded after him, poured on speed to overtake him, ignored the catch and pull of prickers as he dodged left then right down the narrow path, soon close behind the panting Ron, who looked back — but couldn't seem to go any faster. Harry ignored the stray thought that Aunt Petunia would kill him if he got rips. Though maybe she'd be forced to get him new clothes. Newer, rather. The crash of the bushes was raucous, but Ron won with that headstart and Harry nearly ran into him at the sudden edge of the water and skidded to a halt, both of them panting and giggling.
Ron bent over with his hands on his knees, laughing and breathless, like he had a stitch in his side. Harry could see his face now, blue and grey in the sudden light. He was grinning like a fool; he toed off his shoes.
"Gotcha," said Ron. His voice was low, but still carried across the water.
"Oh, right. I would have won if you hadn't cheated!" Harry whisper-laughed. It was surprising how loud they were, even when they were trying to be quiet. The wind shifted, bringing a sweet flower-scent. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and, as the cool air hit him, glanced at the water with trepidation. This seemed like a much better idea when it was broiling hot outside. But they had only one more day free before the World Quidditch Cup.
"Hunh. Well, colour me Slytherin then, but it was still nice to win for a change." Ron kicked off his jeans and yanked his shirt up by the collar; the fabric scruffed up under his arms. "You'd think being tall would be good for something…" His grumble was nearly lost in fabric.
Harry blinked at Ron standing there in his boxers, his head buried in and struggling out of his tight T-shirt. Harry hadn't brought any swim trunks, and for some reason that just occurred to him. For one thing, he didn't own any. The Dursleys never took him swimming, probably in hopes that he wouldn't learn how to swim and drown someday. Anyhow, the idea of wearing Dudley's hand-me-down swim trunks was too disgusting for words.
"Um. I didn't bring any swim trunks," he confessed. The water was probably ice-cold anyway, Harry tried to reassure himself and quash his blooming disappointment. Ron won free of his shirt and tossed it to the ground.
"Don't worry about that. We don't need those — no girls here." Ron grinned, and promptly pulled down his pants. He stepped out of them, naked as a jaybird, not that Harry was looking at the bouncing cock that seemed astoundingly, disturbingly white in the moonlight. It was just — weird — to see so much of Ron all of the sudden. "Hurry up!" Ron said. "It's freezing out here, and I'm not waiting for you. I bet the water's perfect."
He turned, and gingerly stepped to the water's edge, suddenly lifting a foot with a wince like he'd stepped on a pebble. Then he dipped in a toe between the rushes and water lilies. His skin was whiter than white: Ron didn't tan, he just got more freckles. Harry raised his eyebrows at him. If there was a half moon in the sky, he was getting the full moon right now. Ron had a big arse.
"Ohhh," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes in bliss, "it's practically bath water!" He waded out with a slight splash, and the water shivered in broken moonlit sparkles about him. "Well - c'mon," he told Harry impatiently.
Harry shook off his reverie and began to work at his belt, considerably more nervous than Ron had been. This midnight swim had suddenly taken on new uncomfortable meaning, and he didn't want to miss a bit of it. He pulled his trousers and pants down together with a jingle of belt buckle, and only then realized that he hadn't taken off his shoes. Bare-bottomed, he sat on the gravel-sand-grass, with much of it sticking to sensitive skin as he untied and yanked off his shoes; he blushed. But Ron didn't mention it, or maybe didn't notice as he played in the water. Harry regretfully pulled off his glasses.
Ron had waded out further, and was now a dark splotch against silver, surrounded by shadow lilies and cattails. The water made a playful tinkling sound as he stroked his hands in a circle along the surface.
"The first inch or so is the warmest," he purred.
Harry was willing to bet Ron was making all this up, just to see his face when he stepped into freezing cold water - sometimes Ron could be as bad as his brothers - and he vowed to wade in slowly. The cool air made him shiver, pebbled his bare skin as he braced himself for the plunge; even his balls winced at the idea, it just didn't seem possible the water could be warm. Harry could not have felt more naked and vulnerable as he tried to hide himself behind skinny arms.
Suddenly, the dark Ron-shape bent to the water, his hands skimmed the silver and, gliding with a gentle splash, disappeared in an eerie shimmer.
Moments later he broke the surface with a resounding whoosh, further out. The surface of the lake shattered. He shook his head, cascaded water and a splatter of droplets, laughed and spluttered. He called out to Harry: "Whew!" he said. "Are you gonna to stand there bare naked all night, or are you gonna swim?" He splashed an arc of water at Harry.
That was it. Harry plunged the first few feet into the water; the muddy bottom squelched between his toes.
He was astonished. Ron was right. It was like bath water poured onto cool water and not given a chance to mix, and immediately the cool air seemed icy and unbearable. He crouched, waded, then sank into the water's warm embrace; he half-waded and half dog-paddled towards the middle of the lake. He was nervously aware that he was sharing this lake with someone who wasn't wearing anything. Ron, Harry reminded himself. He winced and determined that certain parts of him were going to stay underwater if they didn't start behaving better. Being fourteen was as unpredictable as hell.
But Ron had vanished. There was only a shudder of wavelets where he'd been, moments before. Harry stood, suddenly alarmed. His mind went to the giant squid at Hogwarts and he wondered if anything like that could fit in a pond this small.
Suddenly, a slick grip wrapped around his ankle and Harry found his ears ringing — and underwater. It was dark, colder at the bottom, shockingly silent as he struggled. Harry choked and immediately got a mouthful; in slow motion he flailed and managed to kick his foot free, to break for what he hoped was the surface. Hands grabbed him again, about the hips and something warm and slippery nudged up beneath him…
…and he broke the surface, hoisted onto Ron's shoulder. For three seconds. Before Ron tossed him into the cold air, arms spinning, backwards to smack with a solid splash on rock-hard water.
Harry stood and breathed, coughed a bit. Several (safe) feet away, Ron snickered, then burst out laughing.
"You fucking bastard," Harry laughed. He shook his head and dove at Ron before he could escape.
Ron tried to run through the water instead of swimming, hampered with loud, thick splashes — a critical error; Harry quickly seized an armload of sleek stringy muscle, easily overbalanced if you landed on his back with all your weight. They both went under.
When they surfaced, spluttering and laughing, they found they'd rolled in what turned out to be knee-deep water. And muck. Ron had seaweed and a slimy lilypad trailing down his back; his chest heaved. Harry was smeared in mud, and laughed at Ron as he made a face and slowly reached up to peel off the offending lilypad with two fingers and exaggerated distaste. He dangled it over the water.
The moonlit tableau of the two naked boys froze; the willows whispered in what was suddenly a very wet, very cold breeze. Ron's grin widened, and Harry watched his next idea play clearly across narrowing gleam of his eyes.
They both moved at once — Harry seized a handful of lilypad as he dodged Ron's slimy missile. Ron had another in hand as Harry missed badly, and dove sideways to the safety of deeper water; he felt the thwack of slime hit his back. Shit.
The battle raged on for a good twenty minutes. Ron babysat the 'ammo' keeping Harry at bay. Harry relied on his superior speed and ability to dive, vanish, and catch Ron unawares; but his incursions were always successfully repelled by a barrage of green slimy-best-not-to-think-what-it-is muck.
Stalemate. Panting, they grinned at each other across the silvery water, now thoroughly churned and riddled with the floating carnage of their seaweed war. Harry had ceased to notice Ron was naked, and in fact, had forgotten he was as well. Their strategies were clearly evenly matched, and something had to give. Harry knew that he'd have to be more daring in the attack. Ron, a worthy opponent, was clearly waiting for him to wear out. What's more - he was right! Harry circled slowly, recovering, while Ron taunted him to attack before he was rested.
No dice. Harry wasn't falling for it. Ron threw a couple of out-of-range splatters, just to keep him moving; he dodged lightly. Harry laughed breathlessly, his exhaustion revealed in the ragged edge of his voice. Whoops. Oh shit. Ron knew he was almost done for, that this next attack had to be it. Ron circled the slime patch warily, with the squared shoulders of the certain victor.
What Harry needed was reinforcements, or failing that — a distraction. He searched the sky. Another splatter skittered across the water, sent mini silver wavelets and missed by a mile; Harry didn't even dodge. The stars twinkled peacefully above, unaware of their war. Meanwhile the willows on the shore did no more than brush the surface of the water with their leaves. No help there either.
"Ron!? Harry Potter? What on earth are you two doing up? This is not our property!"
Percy. Saved!
Ron looked around in sudden guilt and Harry seized the advantage, barreling down on him and grabbing lilypads on the way. Ron's eyes widened; he uselessly flung up an arm at the sudden barrage of slime as Harry leaped —
… the slick, smooth slide of skin on skin, the burble of underwater chaos as Harry got clipped on the ear with an elbow but by the time they surfaced, Harry was definitively on top. He pinned Ron's legs to the murky bottom, but let Ron sit up on his elbows in the shallow water.
Ron wore a layer of half-rinsed decorative slime, was cursing a blue streak… and he laughed, and laughed and laughed.
Percy rustled down the hill, an irritated bustle through the thorn bushes. Though he clearly knew the way, Harry noted.
He was already shouting at them as he came into view. "Ron Weasley, you are lucky that I won't wake mother at this indecent hour, but when I tell her, you —!"
He stopped mid-sentence. His vague shadowy shape registered shock in every line as he squeaked, "What are you doing?"
Ron and Harry looked at each other, puzzled. What was wrong?
Then they realised at once: they were stark naked. Harry was straddled over Ron's lap. Oh, wow, this looked dodgy. And suddenly felt really strange, too. Harry was instantly aware of where his cock slid along Ron's thigh, how cool his skin was underwater. The slop and play of water against his back. He scrambled up, the murky water splashed, and Ron quickly crab-crawled away in a backward scuttle.
Of course, this was not wise, as Percy could now see clearly Harry was quite naked, a fact hidden by the lake a moment before. Harry sat back down in the warm water quickly, not sure what to do. An instant later he understood with a flash how guilty their sudden dash must have looked, too. Oh god….
Ron must have realised the same thing, because he put his head in his hands with a groan and laughed weakly. But he recovered quickly. He turned to face Percy.
"Hey, Percy, come on in!" Ron called out. "Come swimming — the water's great."
Good save, Harry thought, relieved. "Yeah. Come on in, Percy," he added. He kind of wanted to see that, all of the sudden. Who had ever seen Percy relax?
"Is that what you're doing? Swimming?" Percy's voice came from the shadows on the shore, several meters away.
"Of course it is. What do you think we're doing?" Ron splashed a bit in Percy's direction. It pattered along the shore, and the vague shape shifted away. Of course, they damn well knew what Percy had thought.
"Oh." Percy said, softly. "Oh, well then. Nevermind." He took a breath, and clearly tried regather his outrage, though it was half-hearted at this point. "You're very loud and some people have to get up in the morning —"
Harry looked quizzically at Ron, who mouthed 'light sleeper.'
"— and you ought to be in bed. You didn't even bring your emergency portkey!" He held out something that crinkled like a used candy wrapper. Portkey? Harry wondered what that was. "Mother would be worried sick if she noticed. What if something had happened? You're coming back with me, right now. Both of you."
"All right, all right. But with the World Cup coming, this was pretty much our last day of summer —" Ron began.
" — I'm not hearing any excuses from you, Ronald Weasley." Harry squinted and could vaguely make out Percy folding his arms on the shore. Trust Percy to spoil their fun. He probably didn't know how to swim.
Ron sighed heavily, and started to get up; water dripped off of him dispiritedly. "Don't suppose you brought any towels?"
"And you didn't?" Percy's tone was exasperated.
"Nah. But it's all right. We'll just dry off with our t-shirts."
Harry moved in close to where Percy stood, but was reluctant to get out of the water just yet. He stood. It was a little deeper here, and the water lapped around his waist. Being naked with Ron was one thing — they were best friends, and had shared a dorm for three years already. Anything that they hadn't seen would had to have been due to blindness. But he had an audience now.
"Harry's our guest, Ron. You don't make him dry off with his t-shirt. Go fetch some Kwik-Dri towels — here." He tossed Ron the strange crinkley object. He missed, but it floated and Ron scooped it out of the water.
"Be right back," Ron waved cheerily. And he suddenly vanished.
Circles of subtle waves expanded from where he'd stood just a moment before, and Harry glanced about, nonplused. But Percy acted as if this were entirely natural, so he supposed it was.
The air stilled, and Harry noted the trail of moonlight on the water had shifted somewhat. The water lapped against the shore gently, a soft wet sound.
Percy sat down on the shore with a sigh. "Sorry. It'll be a while. Emergency portkeys are one-way. That one goes straight to the Burrow. Ron will still have to dry off, get the towels, get dressed, walk all the way back — and knowing him, he'll probably stop for a snack too, while he's at it."
Harry chuckled. Ron had been eating like a horse lately.
Percy seemed to brighten a little at this response, and Harry decided he was probably a little lonely, stuck up in his room all summer long. What would it be like, to not have summer hols anymore? He returned to his original idea.
"So come swimming." Harry grinned. His arms stroked under the surface of the water.
"Oh, uh, no. I — I shouldn't."
"Why not?" Harry asked. "You're here anyway. You said yourself Ron won't be back for a while. Why sit on the shore and be bored, if you can swim? You can swim, can't you?"
"Of course I can!" Percy said, indignant. Harry smiled to himself: he was not surprised that got under his skin. "I just haven't… in a while."
Harry waited, stroking the warm water languidly. It was so nice, what was the hold up?
"I didn't bring any swim trunks…"
Harry snorted. "That's no problem. You saw my, er, swim trunks."
"Oh…" Percy began to cave. He stood and glanced around surreptitiously, as if his boss might be here to catch him taking an illicit break. Harry could almost see him lick his lips. "Oh, all right. But don't look!" he admonished.
His shirt rucked up under his arms as he pulled it off with alacrity, and Harry noted that Percy was a lot slimmer than Fred and George, but more filled out than Ron; probably because he was older. He had a very long waist, while Ron was all leg. His skin was suddenly luminous-pale as he carefully set aside his shirt with an embarrassed air, glancing around as if he were doing something very naughty, rather than just going for a simple swim. He had very few freckles, surprisingly, and he almost glowed, ghostly, in the moonlight. He pulled down his trousers. He had kind of skinny legs. Maybe that was his problem. Otherwise, Harry didn't see anything to complain about. He had a nice chest.
Harry realised that he was looking after all. But he hadn't considered looking until Percy mentioned it, and now he couldn't quite look away. It was like telling someone 'don't think of an olive' — suddenly, that's all they can think of.
Percy's eyes met Harry's briefly, but he didn't look annoyed that Harry was staring. Not at all; in fact, if Harry were to guess, he seemed, well — pleased. Flattered. But he did carefully turn away as he pulled down his pants. Oh, that wasn't fair. He'd seen all of Harry.
Percy looked over his shoulder at Harry then, and made a brisk spiraling motion for Harry to turn around. Harry sighed, and obeyed, though he couldn't resist a surreptitious glance as that pale, lean body gingerly stepped into the water. It wasn't as if he could see much without his glasses anyway. Percy of all people should know that.
Then a voice whispered, a soft breath just over his shoulder "Okay, you can turn around now."
Harry spun, so quickly he clipped Percy with an elbow. "Oh. Sorry." How'd he get so close like that?!
"It's okay." Percy's voice seemed so soft. Not what Harry was used to. At all.
They were standing very close, though of course they had to, since they both had their glasses off, right? Harry's heart did a little flutter. The water here came up to his waist, but Percy was somewhat taller, and the silver waves lapped at his hips, barely covering…
Harry forced his eyes up. His breath sped, light and shallow.
He had a really long smooth waist and narrow chest that was nicely sculpted, not muscular, no, but still nice. They both stood there, so close, looking each other up and down. He really had very nice skin, too, it looked as silky as the water, and Percy looked different, rather naked without the glasses. An odd hysterical thought flitted across his mind that he didn't look naked, he was naked, and if Percy were wearing his glasses right now, would he be any less naked, really? His eyes were very soft, and dark, and rather compelling. Not at all like the Percy he knew from school.
And then he saw Percy swallow.
That's when he knew.
Harry berated himself mentally. How stupid was it, to not think there were gay wizards? But he hadn't pictured it, really. He had thought of it as a Muggle thing somehow, something not of the wizarding world. Otherwise he would have figured it out sooner, why Percy gave in so easily, and was in the water, devouring him with his eyes. Harry glanced down. And although he couldn't tell, it was too dark and the moonlight reflected off the water brilliantly, it was all too easy for him to picture Percy growing hard under the surface. Harry certainly was.
Not now! Not now! he told himself, not that it listened. Fourteen was hell.
Percy took a shuddering breath, and looked away miserably. "I… I shouldn't. This wasn't such a good idea."
"No, no, it's okay," Harry whispered desperately. His hand was on Percy's arm of its own accord — he touched him! and oh, his skin was like silk and so warm — before Percy could turn away. "It's all right," he said, though he truly wasn't picturing what it was that was all right. But he didn't want Percy to turn away.
"Really?" Percy said. His eyes lit with hope.
"Oy! Harry!" Ron crashed through the brush. "You got Percy into the water! Good for you!"
He threw off his clothes again with amazing speed.
Percy and Harry of course were already miles apart — they had spun away even faster than Harry and Ron had.
"But I don't have enough towels now," Ron complained. The water splashed in white fountains at his legs as he plunged through.
"Harry can use my towel," Percy said graciously. Their eyes met for brief meaningful moment.
"Great!" Ron clapped Harry on the back, which left cool, wet handprint, then said in a stage whisper: "let's dunk Percy."
They rounded on Percy, who had his arms out, fingers spread as he backed away with a nervous laugh. "Oh, no you don't…"
Bad move, Percy. He backed towards deep water, where he couldn't escape.
Harry was wickedly glad of the excuse.
~*~*~
Harry lay awake on a soft pillow with unintelligible thoughts and images and feelings whirling through his mind. They got back not quite as late as he'd feared, and Ron now breathed soundly, fast asleep.
He and Percy had dunked each other more times than was strictly decent, and he was more than sure he'd been groped a couple of those times. Certainly Harry had taken advantage. Percy had been hard under the water. Harry thought of that with a blaze of heat. If Ron noticed it, he'd chalked it up to the unpredictability of male anatomy and didn't comment. Or tease, which was more likely where Percy was concerned.
Harry counted mentally, and noticed that Percy had been very careful to dunk Ron and Harry an exactly equal number of times. And that was a good word to describe Percy: careful. Which didn't bode well for the future, especially considering Harry had only one more day at the Burrow, and Percy had to be at work for all of it. Why didn't this happen last year, when they were both at school?
Harry turned over and sighed with frustration. Ron had to come back just then, didn't he?
He heard a faint clunk. Downstairs, through the floor. He listened again. Soft footsteps on the wood floor. It was coming from the kitchen.
Harry stumbled in the grey darkness of Ron's room, felt about for his jeans. He pulled them on and listened once more. No sound. He might be too late. He decided to abandon the idea of finding his t-shirt in Ron's mess and slid out the door.
His heart pounding in his throat, Harry tiptoed down the stairs. He winced at the step that squeaked, right at the bottom. Forgot about that. He glanced up the stairs at the twins' room, figuring they were the most likely disaster. Nothing stirred.
He looked towards the kitchen again… and found a shadowy someone standing the kitchen doorway. None of the lights were on. Harry's heart thumped.
Percy.
Harry couldn't breath.
Percy was in his dressing-gown, which looked so hopelessly old fashioned, and so… Percy. Harry found it painfully sweet all of the sudden. Percy's glasses were on again, which was strange in this context, because Harry was now used to seeing him without them. Without a lot of things in fact. He liked it better without them. Harry was intensely aware of his own bare chest and the soft sound of breathing in the darkened room.
Percy said softly, "I, uh, couldn't sleep."
He gestured politely towards the kitchen, a weird courtly mannerism, and Harry remembered why people made fun of Percy, with his horn-rimmed glasses and old-fashioned, snooty ways. Harry flushed at the jokes he recalled, because he remembered, now, how piercingly vulnerable Percy had been at the lake. Harry padded into the kitchen. Since Percy was dressed, Harry wished he'd put on his t-shirt.
"Would you like some warm milk?" Percy asked.
Warm milk!? Number one — yuck! Number two, just how old did Percy think he was?
"I had some," Percy said, with a little laugh, "but it didn't work."
Oh.
Percy hovered at the table, but didn't sit down. Harry leaned gingerly against the kitchen doorjamb. It felt cool on his bare skin. The moon was still up, and it filtered through the windows. Percy looked Harry up, then down. Harry shivered slightly. He had a sudden sense that he looked really good in just his jeans, as Percy looked again.
"I have to go to work. In a few hours," Percy said.
This sounded very familiar. Harry swallowed, and waited, for the second time that night. But this time he knew what he was waiting for.
Percy didn't add anything.
"Okay," Harry said, vaguely disappointed.
"It would be really irresponsible…" Percy sighed.
Yes! That was a yes! Harry's heart soared as he tried not to smile.
"You're up anyway," Harry shrugged. He tried so hard to be casual, but couldn't.
Percy looked at him, eyes intense behind the glasses. A subtle smile played at his lips.
"You won't sleep anyway," Harry pressed his advantage.
"True enough…" Percy said breathlessly. He took a few steps towards Harry. Then brushed through the kitchen door. "I'll get my jeans, okay?" He was close enough for Harry to feel the heat of him, to see the glimmer along his glasses and those dark, dark eyes. What colour were Percy's eyes? Harry realised he didn't know.
Harry panicked for a moment, even as he nodded. Don't go! What if he changed his mind, and stayed upstairs? He leaned towards him a little at the painful thought, unintentionally. Percy paused a moment, his eyes suddenly open and so dark, his face oddly young and innocent. His lips touched Harry's softly, unexpected, and Harry gave a startled whimper. Then opened to him, devoured in heat. Too soon, Percy pulled away, "not here," his voice was almost a whimper, too, and he was breathing hard. It was a promise. Harry didn't worry about him leaving now. Harry didn't think to get his t-shirt, but just waited.
They didn't need to decide where to go.
On the walk to the lake, they stayed very close to each other, an intense wordless communication, but didn't touch. At the top of the little hill they paused.
The moon had sunk low in the sky and was huge and brilliantly orange. The familiar cattails and willows were outlined against the play of orange water.
"It's beautiful," Percy murmured, his voice shocking after so much urgent silence. Harry merely swallowed and nodded, his head spinning as it had in Ron's room. They were really going down there...
They walked single file down the trail, Harry slightly ahead of Percy, and it seemed a lot longer than Harry remembered.
They reached the shore and Harry remembered his earlier embarrassment with Ron with a kind of nostalgia. Now this, being here with Percy, was embarrassing. There was a sound of crickets that he hadn't noticed earlier, a few rustles in the bushes that perhaps Ron's mad dash had scared off before.
Percy, so sensitive, seemed to notice Harry's hesitation. He paused in the shadows under a willow, hovered close to the trail like he might go right back up it.
"You don't have to, you know." That gentle voice, so different from what Harry knew as Percy.
Harry blinked at hearing his doubts echoed.
And that would be it, wouldn't it? Gone. He would go to school, Percy would go back to work. And there would never, ever, be another chance.
No way.
Harry sat down on the grass, and began to untie his shoe, making that his answer. Harry was grateful to hear the relieved sigh.
"Here," Percy sat down next to him, "let me help." Which was a good thing, because Harry's hands were shaking so much. But Percy's hands shook, too. Harry wondered if he hadn't done this very much? and looked up at him, a little startled.
But Percy chewed his lip nervously as he pulled off Harry's shoe, and didn't notice.
Could one even ask a question like that? Harry decided not to; at least not right now.
And it was weird, because up close, breathing against his face, was Percy, with Percy's glasses, and Percy's clothes; Ron's brother. Who was a Prefect and Head Boy and worked for the Ministry, and was so much older than him. It was too much Percy, and not the sleek, beautiful creation that he had swum naked with earlier.
He touched Percy's hand. Percy looked up, a glimmer ran along his glasses.
"I want to see you naked." He couldn't explain why.
Percy moaned softly then, and stripped his shirt off with the alacrity Harry remembered from earlier that night, and his cock swelled almost immediately. Everything was fine. Harry's lips parted as soon as he saw his chest, creamy-pale, curvy and long. He glistened with sweat and moonlight.
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Date: 2003-07-02 10:35 pm (UTC)And this story is done. Not beta'd or even edited, but I have posted it in its entirety on my most recent update.
~Icarus