FIC: Charmed Life (Percy/Draco, NC17)
Title: Charmed Life
Author: Flora
Rating: NC17
Paring: Percy/Draco. No, really.
Words: ~6700
A/N: This was written for hp_cliche; from the prompt chart, I chose Draco/Other Weasley and forced bond. This is what happened.
Charmed Life
The moment Charlie slipped the ring onto Hermione's finger, Percy felt a tugging nausea behind his navel.
He initially thought it was a Portkey; the sense of it was similar. However, when he didn't go anywhere, it became apparent it was something else, and Percy swallowed hard against the unpleasant bitter taste around the edges of his palate and watched the rest of the ceremony, a lovely spring-bright thing with millions of May flowers and very little else in the way of pomp or fuss.
Charlie was the last of his brothers to marry--and Percy was reasonably sure that someone, somewhere, had lost a Galleon or two that Charlie'd gone before him. Charlie was independent as hell, driving their mother crazy with his footloose ways, and hadn't ever truly looked to settle down, as far as anyone could tell. But then, Hermione was pretty fierce in her independence, too, and virtually every time someone had expressed surprise that Charlie was tying himself down, someone else had pointed out that it was Hermione, and usually, after a moment, the surprised party shrugged and agreed, they made sense.
All of which meant Percy was the last Weasley standing, so to speak.
Ron and Harry had explained nearly two years earlier that "flatmates" was one word for them, but it wasn't especially thorough in describing their rather more intimate relationship. Explaining to Dad had been something of a challenge, as his understanding of the terminology involved in the discussion had proven out of date and spotty; for a man obsessed with Muggles, he was woefully behind on slang.
Ginny and Dean, after what Percy added up to be nearly a decade of off and on dating--and as far as Percy knew, a phenomenal amount of shagging even when "off"--had finally made their relationship permanent last spring, and just last week they'd announced the impending birth of a new grandchild.
Bill, married several years now to Fleur, had two daughters and a receding hairline to go with his sedate two-story home outside London. He'd been actually legally bound the longest, even if Ron's relationship--and possibly Ginny's--were technically of longer standing.
The twins… well. It was just as well--and also quite a bad thing--Dad had got up on the slang and modern notions of relationships a bit before their wife came home with them. Not that he hadn't met her before, but when they showed up with Tonks between them and explained they'd formed a legal bond amongst them, Dad had blurted a question about her metamorphic abilities and whether that had to do with her being the wife to both simultaneously …er. He'd broken off, mortified, and both twins had laughed out loud and said why yes, in fact, it did. Tonks had blushed scarlet including her hair, and supper had been a bit strained at first, but by the end of the evening, everyone had to agree, she handled them well, and everyone knew they came as a set.
So. All in all, that left Percy, alone at the table in the darkening back garden of the Burrow as all the happy couples (and one happy threesome) danced at the reception. Charlie and Hermione were trying to organize people for cutting the cake, and though so far as Percy could tell, this might take several minutes, he stood and started that way, ready to assist if they needed it, because Mum was well past useless with the fluttering and patting her eyes with her handkerchief, and Dad had once again failed to consider how many toasts he had participated in.
And then, there it was again. The flutter in his stomach, as though something were being shifted within him, and a rather startling hallucination: the tiered cake appeared to tilt and collapse, imploding in, but then he blinked and it was fine: upright, unimploded, and still tiered, vines and blossoms still spilling down off it.
He shook his head and continued on toward them, handing Hermione the knife and the little spatula and smiling as the two of them fed each other a bite--with no smashing of cake on faces, a tradition he suspected neither of them found particularly funny.
And then, suddenly nauseous again, he sat down hard in the nearest chair.
Something was wrong. He pasted a smile on his face and sat in a carefully-arranged almost-casual position for a time, then, at the earliest polite opportunity, stood and hurried for the toilets, clammy sweat on his brow.
He knew even before he got there that he wasn't actually going to be sick, though he rather wished he were, as that most likely would make him feel better. He stayed locked in the guest bath for a long while, then slipped upstairs to his old room to lie down. He hated to miss seeing them off to Aruba, but his head was spinning harder every minute, and he didn't think he could make it back down the stairs.
Everyone still thought he was an arse anyway--everyone outside the family, anyway--so it wasn't like he was disappointing anyone. The people he cared to explain to later would understand.
Finally things stopped spinning enough he could sleep. He didn't even bother getting up to take off his jacket.
--
When he woke, it was morning, and at some point someone had come in and covered him.
He sat up cautiously, hand to his head. He felt vaguely sick to his stomach, but not as disoriented… perhaps he'd really just had too much champagne? He didn't quite feel hung over, not exactly, but that was the sort of feeling, so he moved slowly to stand. That was all right, too, and he could smell breakfast downstairs and that was all right, so perhaps it was nothing, after all.
He went downstairs and let Mum serve him eggs and toast, and while he continued to feel markedly strange, after an hour or so he felt up to going home for a shower.
The whole thing was sudden and really quite odd.
--
Within a week, it was clear that sudden and odd or not, it was continuous.
St. Mungo's had done a thorough examination of him on the fourth day, looking for curses, poisons, or natural illnesses, and come up with nothing at all. That, he was sure, couldn’t be right. He was clearly under the weather.
Still, he had noticed something. Several times a day, everything suddenly improved or suddenly became dramatically worse. It was always when he was with other people, but he had no idea what the pattern was, which frustrated him.
After ten days, he sought out Kingsley Shacklebolt, who also didn't think he was suffering from a curse, and said none of the green spikes of serious illness were showing, either. Percy assumed that was some sort of diagnostic that Aurors used, though it wasn't familiar to him. He asked a few questions, trying to understand what it could be that was neither curse nor disease, which had left him so miserable, but they came up with nothing. He wound up thanking him and leaving just as frustrated as he'd been on arrival.
A couple of days later he went to see Remus Lupin. He was annoyed with himself when the man came to the door, bedraggled and unshaven, and Percy realized last night had been the full moon. He apologized, but Lupin had him come in, made him tea, watched him grow progressively worse during their visit, and in the end, concluded that he had no idea, either.
Finally, he went home again--not his home, but the Burrow, to meet Charlie and Hermione returning, because at this point he thought Hermione was his best chance at figuring this out. He was exhausted with two weeks of interrupted sleep, nausea, dizziness, intermittent hallucinations, and in recent days, irritating muscle cramps at odd intervals. It was maddening.
They came in, looking rested and relaxed, and Percy considered not asking because really, it wasn't fair to jump on her straight away, now, was it? But he did mention the trouble he'd been having, and she was interested, so he explained it all anyway.
She heard him out, asking questions along the way, then shook her head. "And you haven't been to the library? Also, why haven't you made a chart of who was with you when you felt better or worse? It seems unlikely it's random, if it's consistently bad when you're alone and changes up and down when you're with other people. Oh, and what do I do to it?"
"Nothing. You're neutral. So is my entire family, as far as I can tell."
"Well. Let's go to the library and start looking for obscure …if it's neither curse nor hex nor poison nor simple illness, that would leave a non-cursing charm, don't you think? You can tell me about who makes you feel better and worse while we walk." She set off promptly, not waiting for his answer.
Charlie shook his head and made shooing motions at Percy. "Go on, then. We didn't have any particular plans until tomorrow. No, really."
He sighed, and went along with her. She was right; perhaps they could find a reference.
--
When Hermione took a guess at the relationship between individuals and how Percy felt, his first response was that that was impossible. His second response was irritation that he hadn't seen it. His third response was wondering what the hell any such thing would mean, anyway.
People who made him feel worse included Remus Lupin, Finnigan at work--that had happened several times now--and both Creevey boys to greater and lesser degrees, along with Walter Pemberly and the American liaison from the International Cooperation office.
People who made him feel better included Neville Longbottom, who'd helpfully brought him several plant-based elixirs to try last week (and hadn't that been a puzzle when he'd showed up like that, but then it turned out that Percy's assistant, Rose, was seeing Longbottom and had mentioned it), and Lucius Malfoy, whom he'd had to meet with on Tuesday regarding a violation of his release agreement. Kieran Davenport, over in Law Enforcement, also soothed him, and he'd found himself thinking of reasons to go over there for the past several days.
Hermione's observation, of course, was that the dividing line was blood, which he hadn't considered at all, and then she asked a completely embarrassing question: was there any chance he was attracted to any of these men? Because they all were men, and it seemed likely this was relevant.
He was (attracted), which to his annoyance he also hadn't put together. Well, he thought, he was ill. He had an excuse.
--
It took several hours of looking to locate a likely reference, during which time Percy mostly watched and learned.
His approach to research was thorough, deliberately careful and patient, and painstaking. Hers was more direct: rather than look through one book at a time, she spent several minutes devising a searching charm to pull out the books that might be relevant, open to the appropriate pages.
Her way worked better.
Still, it wasn't as though the search was perfect. First, they found a great deal about love philters, which Percy had to admit were sort of possible in that they were not, technically, poisons, hexes, or curses, and were related to attraction, but nothing they found there was quite right.
Then, they found a number of texts on 'blood allergy,' which, once they found an article which defined the terminology, turned out to be a theory somewhat along the lines of current pureblood supremacy philosophy, only, it was an early attempt to show an actual medical basis for the prejudice. The later papers demonstrated the fallacy of the notion, but that took some time to get to, and as much of the material was rather archaic, it all gave Percy a headache.
It didn't help that a ridiculously pretty boy, apparently a not a pureblood, wandered down their aisle as they were reading. Percy looked, because, well. Of course he looked, and then had to put his head down and try not to moan for a good long while.
Finally, not long before the library was to close, Hermione let out a startled "Oh!" and shoved a book across the table.
It was also old, old text, hand-written of course, with verbiage and texture done in the style popular centuries earlier, during the period when many wizards feared discovery and therefore created documents in what worked out to be a sort of circular code. It took him a great while to work out what had made her exclaim.
"A …deliberate family charm?" he asked.
"That requires one person of each generation remain pure-blooded. Look, here. It doesn't do anything until the last one of a generation is unbonded, and also is the only one not bonded to another pure-blood."
"What--"
"See? That's why it never affected anyone until Charlie married me. Oh, god." She leaned over and squeezed his shoulders. "Thank you for not marrying a non-pureblood before Charlie and I got around to it."
"Uh. No problem. So, it, what, it noticed, let's see. Fleur--"
"Part Veela. That looks to have not been considered, and the charm is counting her as non-pure."
"Right. And then you, and Tonks, with her grandparents, and…"
"And Harry, of course, also with his Evans grandparents and aunt and so forth, and Dean's a half-blood, so that's everyone."
"Right. …I wonder what it would do if something happened to me and I were still unbonded?" Percy waved a hand in the air. "That's neither here nor there, of course. So. Can we undo it?"
Hermione was reading again, and held up one finger. Finally, she looked up. "I don't think so. I think, let's see. This is from the late fifteenth century, and if I correctly remember the family tree, it's come down to you through four lines in the …eighteen? Maybe nineteen. Generations that have split and re-merged in that time. It's old, strong, and obviously still working, and I don't even know what some of the terms of the original spell refer to. Maybe it's simple enough and only the names have changed, but more like, maybe it's also coded.
Percy groaned.
"Wait, I suppose someone like Snape… He tends to know the old ways about a whole lot of things, though I don't know whether that's just because he's a hobby of learning, or due to any particular study. Only, there's no chance he'd do anything for me, and he'd make you uncomfortable again, wouldn’t he?"
"Right."
"But, all right, what about Draco?"
"Malfoy?"
"Yes. I know you know he was pardoned, and he's been working on restoring archaic spells anyway. In the Department of Magical History."
"Really?"
"Really. You should go see him. Here. Copy all this--" She performed a thorough duplication charm that even got the places where words had been scraped away and rewritten--"And go see him. Tomorrow, I think, as it's nearly ten."
Percy took the document she handed across and nodded. "Can't hurt. And he won't make me feel bad, unless Narcissa Black is a liar."
Hermione chuckled. "True." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Good luck. I'm going home to my husband now.
Percy watched her go, and headed home himself.
--
He went to work the next morning as usual. Well. Almost as usual. As bad as he felt on getting up, it took him an extra half hour to feel certain he wasn't going to be sick if he used the Floo, and even then, he opted to walk, just in case. It wasn't far.
Still, that meant he was late arriving and there were already four owls for him to return, and then Rose had to go for a routine medical visit that meant he needed to answer his own fire for a little while until Stella from Hodgkins' office could cover, and one thing after another kept him busy until well past noon.
Finally, at a quarter to two, he made his way across the main concourse and back into the warren of offices that comprised History.
He located Malfoy's office, following the twisting turns on the little map he'd got from the front receptionist, and knocked.
"What?" The answer was harsh and muffled, and Percy nearly turned away, but to his surprise, even standing outside Draco's door was making him feel somewhat better. Clearly the proximity and awareness together were enough to assuage the miserable charm. He turned the handle and poked his head in through the opening.
"Draco?"
"What do you want?" Draco's hair was clearly visible, but his face was buried in his arms on top of his desk. "If you've a report to file, just leave it."
"Oh. No. I." Percy stopped. He hadn't quite figured out how to present this, which was silly, as he'd had all night and all morning to consider. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I need your help, actually. It seems I may be under the influence of a rather ancient charm, and I was told that you were particularly suited to reading this sort of thing."
Draco looked up carefully.
"Are you all right?" Percy thought he looked rather green, and as though possibly it hadn't been simply a fit of pique that had him pouting on his desktop.
"No. What sort of charms? Also, why me?"
Percy felt his face heat. He really should have more carefully considered the wording and details of all of this. Well. Best to just get out with it. "Because you are both attractive--well. Not while you look like perhaps you've just swallowed a rabid wombat or something equally horrid--"
"Oh, thank you. Get out."
"Sorry. I just was saying. Fuck." Percy scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "I really am sorry. I'm nervous and sick. I didn't mean to… Let me try again. You're both attractive and pure-blooded. The charm under which I seem to be suffering has observed that all of my siblings are married or otherwise bonded, and none of them to a pureblood. It wants me to find one--"
"And you want me?"
"What? Oh. Not exactly. It's just that you have this specialty, and being around you, as I find you, um. Appealing? Makes me feel less sick. So that's a help since paying attention when I feel awful doesn't go that well. I mean, it wasn't until Hermione looked at the facts that I even was able to work out what the hell could be going on."
"So, you want me to …what?" Draco had sat up and looked less awful himself.
"Well. I just thought perhaps you could read this and tell me how to break the bloody thing."
Draco blinked. "Oh. You …want me for my expertise?"
"Why? Is that wrong somehow?"
"No! Just, no one ever does."
Percy squinched up his face, looking around at the piled-up documents. "But--"
"Oh, they bring me things. And I am very much an expert in this field. It's just that usually they either want to hold my past over my head some way, or they want to order around a Malfoy."
Percy shook his head. "Is there anything they can hold over you? I mean, I thought you pretty well told the whole story, except things that were not yours to tell…"
"Oh, yeah. That lot I kick right out, but… Which one are you? I'm sorry, I should know."
"What?"
"Which Weasley. I'm thinking the one with a P, but I can't remember your name."
Percy blushed more and looked down. "Percy," he said quietly.
"That's it. I knew it wasn't Patrick. Anyway. Percy, could you bring that over here?"
"You'll look at it, then?"
Draco nodded and then blushed himself. "Um. I have a bit of a similar problem, and it would be useful if you were to bring it and sit here while I look."
Percy shook his head. "What? You don't have any sib--"
Draco pointed at the calendar on the wall next to the door. Percy peered around to look. It said the date, of course, but also had cheerful sparklers dancing round, and little marching letters declaring Happy Birthday!. "Twenty-fifth birthday. No marriage to lovely pure-blooded bride."
"Ugh. Just as bad, then. So how would I help?"
"Oh. Pure blood, and as you are, what did you say? Appealing, um." Draco flushed darker red and looked down at his desk. "It just would help, all right?"
"All right." Percy stepped past the door, his hand lingering on it. "Open or shut?"
"Shut, if you don't mind. I hate when Watkins comes right in, which he does whenever it's open."
Percy closed the door and crossed to the desk. "Here."
Draco took the copied manuscript, read it over carefully once, then motioned for Percy to sit down next to him while he read through it again. "Well. It's old."
"Yes, I think I said. Hermione said she thinks it's acting on me four times?"
"From crossed-up ancestry? Yeah, that would…" Draco trailed off, scribbling equations and drawing arrows on his blotter. "Uh."
"What?"
"Well. You might be able to break it for your own progeny--"
"Which part about me finding men appealing led you to think there would be--"
"Right. There is that. Look, see here?" Draco set down the duplicated page and traced over a section with the index finger of his left hand, while following a similar path in his notes with his right. "This is what holds it in place, and see how it interlocks?"
Percy leaned closer to examine what Draco was seeing. "Hm. No?"
"Well. This bit here, where it discusses …I suppose that would work out to be something like blood hooks? It's actually designed to reinforce itself when the charm comes back upon itself--which makes sense. They must have expected it to weaken over time, but this way it's self-strengthening."
"Lovely."
"Anyway. I think it can be broken, but only by someone currently already bonded."
"So my parents could?"
"Maybe. Except, ah bugger. Look. Here, it won't alter once it's already in play on another." Draco pointed from one word to another and another. "Whoever wrote this was careful and specific, so a parent couldn’t take pity on a favorite child."
"God. Careful, specific, and a sadist," Percy groaned. He turned his head slightly to look at Draco. "So, I'm doomed, then?"
Draco paused, swallowing. "Um."
"What?"
"Um." Draco leaned forward slowly, licking his lips and holding Percy's gaze.
Percy found himself reaching for Draco and snatched his hand back, then leaned away. "It's trying, isn't it? It's observing your blood and--"
"That's what's acting on you. Me… Mine's new. I haven't quite worked out how to cope. Sorry. I didn't mean to--"
Percy scooted his chair further away. "Better?"
"No! I mean. Shit. Yes, better as far as me not jumping you. Worse, as far as this stupid thing is concerned."
Percy nodded. "I understand. You don't have to apologize."
"Right. Um, so--"
"Can yours be broken?"
Draco lifted a brow. "Please. You've met my father?"
"Uh. Yeah?" Percy wasn't sure what that had to do with anything.
"Does he strike you as the sort of man who would do anything in half-measures? And his father was surely worse yet. He didn't want to take any chances on the purity of the lineage. I'm sure he paid very, very well for the guarantee this couldn’t be undone." Draco gripped the edge of the desk hard. "Um. It's getting… I feel better with you here than I did, but now that I'm paying attention to it on purpose--"
"It's getting harder to ignore. Yeah." Percy scooted further away again, despite every muscle in his body objecting. "Maybe I should go." He didn't get up.
"Right. Or I should." Draco didn't get up either.
They stared at each other for several seconds. Finally Percy cleared his throat. "I have a question."
"What?" Draco didn't look away.
"You know how your own works, right?"
"Right. That was the question?"
"No. Look at mine again." Percy waited. "That's going to involve tearing your eyes away from mine, I expect."
"I…"
"Just look at it. You can--I can't believe I'm saying this because it sounds even more pretentious than anyone thinks I am, but--you can look at me again in a minute."
Draco smirked. "You're right. That's not even something I would say."
"Right. Look at the bleeding document. Does it say, if I bond to someone, it has to be permanent?"
"What?" Draco had looked at the parchment, but looked back up now. Percy waved back toward the paper.
"Does it discuss the permanence of the bond?"
"Yes. It's permanent. A bond is a bond."
"And does it prevent …other liaisons?"
Draco quirked one side of his face, puzzled. "What? I mean, not really, but the point of bonding isn't to intend--"
"What about yours?"
"What about mine?"
"Does it force fidelity?"
"Uh. No. What are you--"
Percy bit his lip. "This might be insane, but. I was wondering whether we could choose to meet the terms of both curses--and regardless of the formal opinion of the staff at St. Mungo's, this is a curse, thanks--and then be free to go our own ways. If you wanted. If…" Percy broke off. "Right. Insane. It's probably the damned thing creating the idea in my head anyway."
Draco was staring at him now, flushed, gripping his desk so hard his nailbeds had gone white-edged. "Um. We could try it?"
"But--"
"What? It was your idea."
"Right, but don't you want some time to--"
"Here's the thing. How many gay purebloods do I know?" Draco was quivering now, and it occurred to Percy he really ought to remove himself from the situation except he found he was also shaking with the effort of not leaping out of his chair and pouncing into Draco's lap.
"Uh. A few?"
"And of those, how many are making me hard discussing the arithmancy behind a damned spell. Even though they are Weasleys, for god's sake."
Percy inhaled sharply and tried to ignore his body's response to the information that he was making Draco hard. Not that this was exactly new information, not the way this had gone so far, but saying it out loud was something else. "Uh. Given I assume it's not Ron that's making you--"
"Ugh. No. Also, I do believe he has a beau, or you wouldn’t be fighting this." Draco was practically speaking through gritted teeth now.
"Very true."
"So. What do we--"
"I can't seem to get up and leave."
"Do you want to?"
"I. Yes. No. Yes. This is. Look, I can't go forging a damned bond because some idiot five hundred years ago--"
"Six hundred."
"Whatever. I can't go making some instant relationship. Poof! Bond!"
Draco winced. "Don’t make me laugh."
"What?"
"Honestly. Poof bond?"
"Oh. I didn't. Don't smile at me like that."
"Can't seem to stop."
"Right. What if--"
"I should--"
"Can you… call someone in here? To interrupt?"
Draco was panting now. "No."
"What?"
"No. If I let go of the desk to do that, by the time they get here they will be interrupting a lot."
"Oh. So…" Percy pushed against the floor with his feet, trying to distract himself from what was now a painful and consuming need.
Finally, all at once, they both snapped. They were only a few feet apart despite Percy's scooting, and when they both stood, it was a matter of a single step to come together, noses bumping, as they tried to work out how to coordinate Percy's height and Draco's hands under his shirt and no one stepping on anyone's toes.
It went surprisingly well for an unplanned and unfamiliar kiss, as though the curses--well, maybe charms, Percy let float through his head--were helping with that, too.
Percy pushed his tongue between Draco's open lips and groaned as Draco's fingers grazed his ribs, and then he lost track completely of what he was doing, going only with what felt good, turning them and pushing Draco back against the wall, leaning into him, pressing and whimpering, knee between his thighs, one hand braced on the wall, other hand down the back of Draco's trousers.
Finally, after one minute or five or maybe twenty, he pulled back, sure he looked as stunned as Draco. "This isn't right," he managed, stepping back.
Draco nodded. "F-felt right," he stammered, though he ducked under Percy's arm and moved away.
Percy stepped the other direction to increase the distance and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "I should go."
"I think you already said that."
Percy nodded. He had, but now he felt …relieved of pressure, in a way, though he wasn't sure there was any possibility of an orgasm powerful enough to relieve the pressure in his groin. "I'm. I'm going to, then. Go, I mean."
Draco nodded again. "Take your paper."
"No, uh. Can you look at it some more? I'll come fetch it. Tomorrow. Or." Percy was walking backward to the door as he spoke. He felt behind him for the handle and opened it, stumbling out into the hall.
He walked back to his office as quickly as he could, hands in his pockets to pull the front of his robe away from his body.
It didn't occur to him until he was back in his office leaving a note for Rose that he was leaving early--the note didn't say, because I have to go home and fuck my hand before I die, but only because he concentrated hard on making it not say that--that he hadn't resumed feeling ill after he'd left Draco's office.
That was probably significant, but he wasn't willing to spare even one second to thinking about it.
--
By the time Draco showed up at his door, Percy was exhausted.
He'd stepped through the Floo, Banished his clothes, and stood right there bare but for his socks and shoes in his sitting room before the fireplace with one hand on his cock and the other cupping his balls, coming hard and grunting and being glad beyond words he lived alone.
And then he'd gone to clean up, and the stray notion of Draco licking him clean had occurred to him, and faster than he's have thought possible at his age, he was hard again, looking in the mirror and biting his lip and squirting lotion in his palm and thinking about Draco watching him jerk off.
Things hadn't much improved from there.
Well. They'd improved in the sense he didn't feel sick any more, and now he thought about it, he hadn't wanked this whole time because he'd felt too bad, so maybe that was what was behind this absurd afternoon of self-touching. But honestly. He was nearly thirty, and he didn't think he'd ever spent an entire afternoon doing this ever, even when he was fourteen and had only recently discovered the joy of it and had miles of stamina. He'd wanked on the couch, and on his bed, and even while he'd been contemplating what to cook for supper. He'd tried taking a cold shower, but then he'd thought about Draco joining him in the shower, and eventually he'd brought up the water temperature and fingered his arse and spattered come on the tile, slumping forward against it, exhausted.
Something was very wrong.
He looked through the peephole before he opened the door, inexplicably knowing who it was but not trusting the nebulous sense of it, then opened the door and grabbed Draco by the wrist, dragging him in. "What did you do to me?"
He hadn't bothered getting dressed, and Draco looked him up and down and closed his eyes. "Nothing," he said, tense and tired. "Nothing you didn't do to me." He'd brought the parchment with him, and he held it out, which allowed Percy to see the prominent bulge in his trousers.
Percy took the paper being handed to him automatically. "Oh. Um."
"Um. I think unless one of us finds another pureblood to whom to bond, it's going to keep after us like this."
Percy gaped. "You think. …What?"
"I think by giving in earlier it sort of …partially did something."
"Have you--"
"Been trying to work it out all afternoon," Draco said. "I think… Look, can I just. Okay, I've never actually asked this before, but, please, can we just. I read through it again and it has a clause that I don't entirely understand but. It's something about mutual gratification. Um." He was very, very pink and looking at the floor by the time he finished explaining this, and Percy let the parchment drop and reached for him with both hands.
"You want to …have sex, then?"
Draco looked up and swallowed hard. "Right now, what I seem to want more than anything is to drop to my knees and take your cock in my mouth and make you come. If you'd like that. If. Fuck."
Percy swallowed at that, too, then Summoned his wand from where he'd earlier dropped it by the fireplace. He started to Banish Draco's clothes too, then stopped mid-incantation. "Uh. Is this--"
"God, please."
Percy finished the charm and dragged Draco to the couch. He sat down, and Draco did drop to his knees, hands on Percy's thighs, gaze focused on Percy's hard cock.
"Can I--"
"Yeah," Percy said, voice husky with need and anxiety and a tiny thread of horror that he was somehow forcing this, only it wasn't his own will being imposed.
And then Draco's lips closed around the head of his cock and slid down and back up, and Percy found he didn't care whose will it was because this was right and perfect and exactly the way the world should be. Draco was looking up at him, checking, he supposed, as to whether he was pleasing him, and Percy smiled. "Fucking brilliant," he whispered. "So good."
It took him a moment, when Draco pulled one hand back off his hip, to realize that he'd moved it to his own cock, but he could see his arse flexing and pushing, thrusting into his hand, and he slid his hand under Draco's chin to pull him up off his cock. "Stop."
"What? I--" Draco panted and blinked, his expression on of lustful panic, as though not finishing this right now might kill him.
Percy shook his head. "You said mutual. I'm not pleasuring you."
Draco looked down at his cock in his hand, then at Percy's bobbing before him and shiny-wet with spit. "Uh. Yeah, you are, actually."
"Well. I suppose at that, but… would you like anything else even more?"
Draco's hand tightened on his cock. "Uh."
"Because I was just thinking, if you came up here--" Percy hadn't finished the sentence before Draco was in his lap, straddling his hips, hand around both cocks. "Oh god. We could do that."
Percy let his head fall back and set his hands on Draco's hips to feel them move. He still didn't think he was doing much of the pleasuring, but when Draco came all over his belly and the head of his cock, he concluded he didn't much care. The warm wetness of it hitting his foreskin, along with Draco's expression and the convulsive squeeze of his fist sent Percy over, too.
He lazily cleaned them up and wrapped his arms around Draco's torso, holding him close, and shuffled them to lie down on the couch.
The bed was a hundred miles too far away, and this would be fine for now.
--
Percy woke to find it was morning. Which was probably only fair given his …six? Seven? Fairly consecutive orgasms the night before. He shifted slightly to reach down and move Draco's thigh from where it went off the couch, twisting them so his skin pulled uncomfortably.
"Mmf?" Draco said. He lifted his head and looked at Percy. "Um."
Percy grinned. "I think you fixed me."
Draco lifted a brow. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I got to not need to come for like, hours."
Draco pushed up on his hands to look down between them at both very interested cocks. "Doesn't look to me like--"
"Snot. I mean, there were hours in between. And now, I don't need to."
Draco looked back up at him, then looked away. "Oh."
Percy frowned. What was… Oh. "Not don't want to. Just it could wait, if, say, you wanted breakfast. Or you wanted me to wash your back first. Or you wanted me to demonstrate that I'm just as willing to get on my knees as you were. Or--"
"But if I don't want any of that?"
Percy shrugged, surprised as his own casual attitude but unable to bring himself to care a great deal. "What do you want?"
"Um. Actually, all of that, only not necessarily in that order, or right now." Draco grabbed Percy's wand because it was right there on the back of the couch against the wall, and managed a serviceable lubricant charm, slicking Percy's cock with it. "Right now, I want…" he stopped and blushed, which Percy found puzzling.
"What?"
"I've never. Right. I think I want you inside me, except I've never, um."
Percy stared for a moment, then shook his head. "Well. Then let's see how you like it." He wriggled them around to sitting up again, Draco straddling his lap, and helped him lift up. "Now we're not desperate--it worked for you too? Not desperate, I mean?"
"No. I mean, yes, it worked. So. Except I still feel sort of needy." Draco lowered himself slowly. "Oh. That's ...odd. Not bad, just… Oh!"
Percy waited while Draco figured out how to adjust, holding still despite the urge to arch up and push in hard. "All right?"
Draco slid down further and grinned. "Um. Yeah."
"Good." Percy wrapped his fingers around Draco's cock and tugged gently. "So. Does it bother you that a pair of curses--"
"Charms."
"Whatever. Are making us have sex?"
Draco shrugged. "Some. But… I don't think it would, um. Do that again."
Percy slid his thumb across the tip of Draco's cock again. "Would what?"
"Oh. Would have worked so …powerfully just from. God. From kissing. If we didn't. Can't talk about this later?"
"It does seem like a conversation we need to have," Percy agreed. "If we didn't what?"
"Didn't. Suit," Draco finished. "So it's not just sex." He frowned, not the confused frown of the day before, nor the desperate one of last night, but the petulant one of not getting his way. "Now shut up and concentrate on this."
Percy considered for a moment that he was coming to know the different frowns of Draco, and concluded that in fact, their curses had bound them well. And he had an instruction to follow. He looked up into Draco's eyes. "Concentrate? On making you come?"
"Us."
"Right. And not worry about how my brothers will take all this?"
"God, no. No thinking about brothers right now." Draco rocked and thrust against Percy's belly and scowled again.
"Good, since you utterly don't remind me of any of them." Percy stretched up to nip at Draco's ear, which got such a lovely response he did it again.
"Since when are you …playful?"
"Since you made me feel better? I'm practically giddy."
"Suitable, I suppose," Draco said, stilling thoughtfully. "Newlyweds are supposed to be giddy."
"Good, then. Now. I believe you said something about concentrating?"
"I did. On making us come. So we can get to all that other--the showering and back-scrubbing and whatnot."
"I do like a man with a plan." Percy winked, thrust up, and set about concentrating.
Author: Flora
Rating: NC17
Paring: Percy/Draco. No, really.
Words: ~6700
A/N: This was written for hp_cliche; from the prompt chart, I chose Draco/Other Weasley and forced bond. This is what happened.
Charmed Life
The moment Charlie slipped the ring onto Hermione's finger, Percy felt a tugging nausea behind his navel.
He initially thought it was a Portkey; the sense of it was similar. However, when he didn't go anywhere, it became apparent it was something else, and Percy swallowed hard against the unpleasant bitter taste around the edges of his palate and watched the rest of the ceremony, a lovely spring-bright thing with millions of May flowers and very little else in the way of pomp or fuss.
Charlie was the last of his brothers to marry--and Percy was reasonably sure that someone, somewhere, had lost a Galleon or two that Charlie'd gone before him. Charlie was independent as hell, driving their mother crazy with his footloose ways, and hadn't ever truly looked to settle down, as far as anyone could tell. But then, Hermione was pretty fierce in her independence, too, and virtually every time someone had expressed surprise that Charlie was tying himself down, someone else had pointed out that it was Hermione, and usually, after a moment, the surprised party shrugged and agreed, they made sense.
All of which meant Percy was the last Weasley standing, so to speak.
Ron and Harry had explained nearly two years earlier that "flatmates" was one word for them, but it wasn't especially thorough in describing their rather more intimate relationship. Explaining to Dad had been something of a challenge, as his understanding of the terminology involved in the discussion had proven out of date and spotty; for a man obsessed with Muggles, he was woefully behind on slang.
Ginny and Dean, after what Percy added up to be nearly a decade of off and on dating--and as far as Percy knew, a phenomenal amount of shagging even when "off"--had finally made their relationship permanent last spring, and just last week they'd announced the impending birth of a new grandchild.
Bill, married several years now to Fleur, had two daughters and a receding hairline to go with his sedate two-story home outside London. He'd been actually legally bound the longest, even if Ron's relationship--and possibly Ginny's--were technically of longer standing.
The twins… well. It was just as well--and also quite a bad thing--Dad had got up on the slang and modern notions of relationships a bit before their wife came home with them. Not that he hadn't met her before, but when they showed up with Tonks between them and explained they'd formed a legal bond amongst them, Dad had blurted a question about her metamorphic abilities and whether that had to do with her being the wife to both simultaneously …er. He'd broken off, mortified, and both twins had laughed out loud and said why yes, in fact, it did. Tonks had blushed scarlet including her hair, and supper had been a bit strained at first, but by the end of the evening, everyone had to agree, she handled them well, and everyone knew they came as a set.
So. All in all, that left Percy, alone at the table in the darkening back garden of the Burrow as all the happy couples (and one happy threesome) danced at the reception. Charlie and Hermione were trying to organize people for cutting the cake, and though so far as Percy could tell, this might take several minutes, he stood and started that way, ready to assist if they needed it, because Mum was well past useless with the fluttering and patting her eyes with her handkerchief, and Dad had once again failed to consider how many toasts he had participated in.
And then, there it was again. The flutter in his stomach, as though something were being shifted within him, and a rather startling hallucination: the tiered cake appeared to tilt and collapse, imploding in, but then he blinked and it was fine: upright, unimploded, and still tiered, vines and blossoms still spilling down off it.
He shook his head and continued on toward them, handing Hermione the knife and the little spatula and smiling as the two of them fed each other a bite--with no smashing of cake on faces, a tradition he suspected neither of them found particularly funny.
And then, suddenly nauseous again, he sat down hard in the nearest chair.
Something was wrong. He pasted a smile on his face and sat in a carefully-arranged almost-casual position for a time, then, at the earliest polite opportunity, stood and hurried for the toilets, clammy sweat on his brow.
He knew even before he got there that he wasn't actually going to be sick, though he rather wished he were, as that most likely would make him feel better. He stayed locked in the guest bath for a long while, then slipped upstairs to his old room to lie down. He hated to miss seeing them off to Aruba, but his head was spinning harder every minute, and he didn't think he could make it back down the stairs.
Everyone still thought he was an arse anyway--everyone outside the family, anyway--so it wasn't like he was disappointing anyone. The people he cared to explain to later would understand.
Finally things stopped spinning enough he could sleep. He didn't even bother getting up to take off his jacket.
--
When he woke, it was morning, and at some point someone had come in and covered him.
He sat up cautiously, hand to his head. He felt vaguely sick to his stomach, but not as disoriented… perhaps he'd really just had too much champagne? He didn't quite feel hung over, not exactly, but that was the sort of feeling, so he moved slowly to stand. That was all right, too, and he could smell breakfast downstairs and that was all right, so perhaps it was nothing, after all.
He went downstairs and let Mum serve him eggs and toast, and while he continued to feel markedly strange, after an hour or so he felt up to going home for a shower.
The whole thing was sudden and really quite odd.
--
Within a week, it was clear that sudden and odd or not, it was continuous.
St. Mungo's had done a thorough examination of him on the fourth day, looking for curses, poisons, or natural illnesses, and come up with nothing at all. That, he was sure, couldn’t be right. He was clearly under the weather.
Still, he had noticed something. Several times a day, everything suddenly improved or suddenly became dramatically worse. It was always when he was with other people, but he had no idea what the pattern was, which frustrated him.
After ten days, he sought out Kingsley Shacklebolt, who also didn't think he was suffering from a curse, and said none of the green spikes of serious illness were showing, either. Percy assumed that was some sort of diagnostic that Aurors used, though it wasn't familiar to him. He asked a few questions, trying to understand what it could be that was neither curse nor disease, which had left him so miserable, but they came up with nothing. He wound up thanking him and leaving just as frustrated as he'd been on arrival.
A couple of days later he went to see Remus Lupin. He was annoyed with himself when the man came to the door, bedraggled and unshaven, and Percy realized last night had been the full moon. He apologized, but Lupin had him come in, made him tea, watched him grow progressively worse during their visit, and in the end, concluded that he had no idea, either.
Finally, he went home again--not his home, but the Burrow, to meet Charlie and Hermione returning, because at this point he thought Hermione was his best chance at figuring this out. He was exhausted with two weeks of interrupted sleep, nausea, dizziness, intermittent hallucinations, and in recent days, irritating muscle cramps at odd intervals. It was maddening.
They came in, looking rested and relaxed, and Percy considered not asking because really, it wasn't fair to jump on her straight away, now, was it? But he did mention the trouble he'd been having, and she was interested, so he explained it all anyway.
She heard him out, asking questions along the way, then shook her head. "And you haven't been to the library? Also, why haven't you made a chart of who was with you when you felt better or worse? It seems unlikely it's random, if it's consistently bad when you're alone and changes up and down when you're with other people. Oh, and what do I do to it?"
"Nothing. You're neutral. So is my entire family, as far as I can tell."
"Well. Let's go to the library and start looking for obscure …if it's neither curse nor hex nor poison nor simple illness, that would leave a non-cursing charm, don't you think? You can tell me about who makes you feel better and worse while we walk." She set off promptly, not waiting for his answer.
Charlie shook his head and made shooing motions at Percy. "Go on, then. We didn't have any particular plans until tomorrow. No, really."
He sighed, and went along with her. She was right; perhaps they could find a reference.
--
When Hermione took a guess at the relationship between individuals and how Percy felt, his first response was that that was impossible. His second response was irritation that he hadn't seen it. His third response was wondering what the hell any such thing would mean, anyway.
People who made him feel worse included Remus Lupin, Finnigan at work--that had happened several times now--and both Creevey boys to greater and lesser degrees, along with Walter Pemberly and the American liaison from the International Cooperation office.
People who made him feel better included Neville Longbottom, who'd helpfully brought him several plant-based elixirs to try last week (and hadn't that been a puzzle when he'd showed up like that, but then it turned out that Percy's assistant, Rose, was seeing Longbottom and had mentioned it), and Lucius Malfoy, whom he'd had to meet with on Tuesday regarding a violation of his release agreement. Kieran Davenport, over in Law Enforcement, also soothed him, and he'd found himself thinking of reasons to go over there for the past several days.
Hermione's observation, of course, was that the dividing line was blood, which he hadn't considered at all, and then she asked a completely embarrassing question: was there any chance he was attracted to any of these men? Because they all were men, and it seemed likely this was relevant.
He was (attracted), which to his annoyance he also hadn't put together. Well, he thought, he was ill. He had an excuse.
--
It took several hours of looking to locate a likely reference, during which time Percy mostly watched and learned.
His approach to research was thorough, deliberately careful and patient, and painstaking. Hers was more direct: rather than look through one book at a time, she spent several minutes devising a searching charm to pull out the books that might be relevant, open to the appropriate pages.
Her way worked better.
Still, it wasn't as though the search was perfect. First, they found a great deal about love philters, which Percy had to admit were sort of possible in that they were not, technically, poisons, hexes, or curses, and were related to attraction, but nothing they found there was quite right.
Then, they found a number of texts on 'blood allergy,' which, once they found an article which defined the terminology, turned out to be a theory somewhat along the lines of current pureblood supremacy philosophy, only, it was an early attempt to show an actual medical basis for the prejudice. The later papers demonstrated the fallacy of the notion, but that took some time to get to, and as much of the material was rather archaic, it all gave Percy a headache.
It didn't help that a ridiculously pretty boy, apparently a not a pureblood, wandered down their aisle as they were reading. Percy looked, because, well. Of course he looked, and then had to put his head down and try not to moan for a good long while.
Finally, not long before the library was to close, Hermione let out a startled "Oh!" and shoved a book across the table.
It was also old, old text, hand-written of course, with verbiage and texture done in the style popular centuries earlier, during the period when many wizards feared discovery and therefore created documents in what worked out to be a sort of circular code. It took him a great while to work out what had made her exclaim.
"A …deliberate family charm?" he asked.
"That requires one person of each generation remain pure-blooded. Look, here. It doesn't do anything until the last one of a generation is unbonded, and also is the only one not bonded to another pure-blood."
"What--"
"See? That's why it never affected anyone until Charlie married me. Oh, god." She leaned over and squeezed his shoulders. "Thank you for not marrying a non-pureblood before Charlie and I got around to it."
"Uh. No problem. So, it, what, it noticed, let's see. Fleur--"
"Part Veela. That looks to have not been considered, and the charm is counting her as non-pure."
"Right. And then you, and Tonks, with her grandparents, and…"
"And Harry, of course, also with his Evans grandparents and aunt and so forth, and Dean's a half-blood, so that's everyone."
"Right. …I wonder what it would do if something happened to me and I were still unbonded?" Percy waved a hand in the air. "That's neither here nor there, of course. So. Can we undo it?"
Hermione was reading again, and held up one finger. Finally, she looked up. "I don't think so. I think, let's see. This is from the late fifteenth century, and if I correctly remember the family tree, it's come down to you through four lines in the …eighteen? Maybe nineteen. Generations that have split and re-merged in that time. It's old, strong, and obviously still working, and I don't even know what some of the terms of the original spell refer to. Maybe it's simple enough and only the names have changed, but more like, maybe it's also coded.
Percy groaned.
"Wait, I suppose someone like Snape… He tends to know the old ways about a whole lot of things, though I don't know whether that's just because he's a hobby of learning, or due to any particular study. Only, there's no chance he'd do anything for me, and he'd make you uncomfortable again, wouldn’t he?"
"Right."
"But, all right, what about Draco?"
"Malfoy?"
"Yes. I know you know he was pardoned, and he's been working on restoring archaic spells anyway. In the Department of Magical History."
"Really?"
"Really. You should go see him. Here. Copy all this--" She performed a thorough duplication charm that even got the places where words had been scraped away and rewritten--"And go see him. Tomorrow, I think, as it's nearly ten."
Percy took the document she handed across and nodded. "Can't hurt. And he won't make me feel bad, unless Narcissa Black is a liar."
Hermione chuckled. "True." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Good luck. I'm going home to my husband now.
Percy watched her go, and headed home himself.
--
He went to work the next morning as usual. Well. Almost as usual. As bad as he felt on getting up, it took him an extra half hour to feel certain he wasn't going to be sick if he used the Floo, and even then, he opted to walk, just in case. It wasn't far.
Still, that meant he was late arriving and there were already four owls for him to return, and then Rose had to go for a routine medical visit that meant he needed to answer his own fire for a little while until Stella from Hodgkins' office could cover, and one thing after another kept him busy until well past noon.
Finally, at a quarter to two, he made his way across the main concourse and back into the warren of offices that comprised History.
He located Malfoy's office, following the twisting turns on the little map he'd got from the front receptionist, and knocked.
"What?" The answer was harsh and muffled, and Percy nearly turned away, but to his surprise, even standing outside Draco's door was making him feel somewhat better. Clearly the proximity and awareness together were enough to assuage the miserable charm. He turned the handle and poked his head in through the opening.
"Draco?"
"What do you want?" Draco's hair was clearly visible, but his face was buried in his arms on top of his desk. "If you've a report to file, just leave it."
"Oh. No. I." Percy stopped. He hadn't quite figured out how to present this, which was silly, as he'd had all night and all morning to consider. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I need your help, actually. It seems I may be under the influence of a rather ancient charm, and I was told that you were particularly suited to reading this sort of thing."
Draco looked up carefully.
"Are you all right?" Percy thought he looked rather green, and as though possibly it hadn't been simply a fit of pique that had him pouting on his desktop.
"No. What sort of charms? Also, why me?"
Percy felt his face heat. He really should have more carefully considered the wording and details of all of this. Well. Best to just get out with it. "Because you are both attractive--well. Not while you look like perhaps you've just swallowed a rabid wombat or something equally horrid--"
"Oh, thank you. Get out."
"Sorry. I just was saying. Fuck." Percy scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "I really am sorry. I'm nervous and sick. I didn't mean to… Let me try again. You're both attractive and pure-blooded. The charm under which I seem to be suffering has observed that all of my siblings are married or otherwise bonded, and none of them to a pureblood. It wants me to find one--"
"And you want me?"
"What? Oh. Not exactly. It's just that you have this specialty, and being around you, as I find you, um. Appealing? Makes me feel less sick. So that's a help since paying attention when I feel awful doesn't go that well. I mean, it wasn't until Hermione looked at the facts that I even was able to work out what the hell could be going on."
"So, you want me to …what?" Draco had sat up and looked less awful himself.
"Well. I just thought perhaps you could read this and tell me how to break the bloody thing."
Draco blinked. "Oh. You …want me for my expertise?"
"Why? Is that wrong somehow?"
"No! Just, no one ever does."
Percy squinched up his face, looking around at the piled-up documents. "But--"
"Oh, they bring me things. And I am very much an expert in this field. It's just that usually they either want to hold my past over my head some way, or they want to order around a Malfoy."
Percy shook his head. "Is there anything they can hold over you? I mean, I thought you pretty well told the whole story, except things that were not yours to tell…"
"Oh, yeah. That lot I kick right out, but… Which one are you? I'm sorry, I should know."
"What?"
"Which Weasley. I'm thinking the one with a P, but I can't remember your name."
Percy blushed more and looked down. "Percy," he said quietly.
"That's it. I knew it wasn't Patrick. Anyway. Percy, could you bring that over here?"
"You'll look at it, then?"
Draco nodded and then blushed himself. "Um. I have a bit of a similar problem, and it would be useful if you were to bring it and sit here while I look."
Percy shook his head. "What? You don't have any sib--"
Draco pointed at the calendar on the wall next to the door. Percy peered around to look. It said the date, of course, but also had cheerful sparklers dancing round, and little marching letters declaring Happy Birthday!. "Twenty-fifth birthday. No marriage to lovely pure-blooded bride."
"Ugh. Just as bad, then. So how would I help?"
"Oh. Pure blood, and as you are, what did you say? Appealing, um." Draco flushed darker red and looked down at his desk. "It just would help, all right?"
"All right." Percy stepped past the door, his hand lingering on it. "Open or shut?"
"Shut, if you don't mind. I hate when Watkins comes right in, which he does whenever it's open."
Percy closed the door and crossed to the desk. "Here."
Draco took the copied manuscript, read it over carefully once, then motioned for Percy to sit down next to him while he read through it again. "Well. It's old."
"Yes, I think I said. Hermione said she thinks it's acting on me four times?"
"From crossed-up ancestry? Yeah, that would…" Draco trailed off, scribbling equations and drawing arrows on his blotter. "Uh."
"What?"
"Well. You might be able to break it for your own progeny--"
"Which part about me finding men appealing led you to think there would be--"
"Right. There is that. Look, see here?" Draco set down the duplicated page and traced over a section with the index finger of his left hand, while following a similar path in his notes with his right. "This is what holds it in place, and see how it interlocks?"
Percy leaned closer to examine what Draco was seeing. "Hm. No?"
"Well. This bit here, where it discusses …I suppose that would work out to be something like blood hooks? It's actually designed to reinforce itself when the charm comes back upon itself--which makes sense. They must have expected it to weaken over time, but this way it's self-strengthening."
"Lovely."
"Anyway. I think it can be broken, but only by someone currently already bonded."
"So my parents could?"
"Maybe. Except, ah bugger. Look. Here, it won't alter once it's already in play on another." Draco pointed from one word to another and another. "Whoever wrote this was careful and specific, so a parent couldn’t take pity on a favorite child."
"God. Careful, specific, and a sadist," Percy groaned. He turned his head slightly to look at Draco. "So, I'm doomed, then?"
Draco paused, swallowing. "Um."
"What?"
"Um." Draco leaned forward slowly, licking his lips and holding Percy's gaze.
Percy found himself reaching for Draco and snatched his hand back, then leaned away. "It's trying, isn't it? It's observing your blood and--"
"That's what's acting on you. Me… Mine's new. I haven't quite worked out how to cope. Sorry. I didn't mean to--"
Percy scooted his chair further away. "Better?"
"No! I mean. Shit. Yes, better as far as me not jumping you. Worse, as far as this stupid thing is concerned."
Percy nodded. "I understand. You don't have to apologize."
"Right. Um, so--"
"Can yours be broken?"
Draco lifted a brow. "Please. You've met my father?"
"Uh. Yeah?" Percy wasn't sure what that had to do with anything.
"Does he strike you as the sort of man who would do anything in half-measures? And his father was surely worse yet. He didn't want to take any chances on the purity of the lineage. I'm sure he paid very, very well for the guarantee this couldn’t be undone." Draco gripped the edge of the desk hard. "Um. It's getting… I feel better with you here than I did, but now that I'm paying attention to it on purpose--"
"It's getting harder to ignore. Yeah." Percy scooted further away again, despite every muscle in his body objecting. "Maybe I should go." He didn't get up.
"Right. Or I should." Draco didn't get up either.
They stared at each other for several seconds. Finally Percy cleared his throat. "I have a question."
"What?" Draco didn't look away.
"You know how your own works, right?"
"Right. That was the question?"
"No. Look at mine again." Percy waited. "That's going to involve tearing your eyes away from mine, I expect."
"I…"
"Just look at it. You can--I can't believe I'm saying this because it sounds even more pretentious than anyone thinks I am, but--you can look at me again in a minute."
Draco smirked. "You're right. That's not even something I would say."
"Right. Look at the bleeding document. Does it say, if I bond to someone, it has to be permanent?"
"What?" Draco had looked at the parchment, but looked back up now. Percy waved back toward the paper.
"Does it discuss the permanence of the bond?"
"Yes. It's permanent. A bond is a bond."
"And does it prevent …other liaisons?"
Draco quirked one side of his face, puzzled. "What? I mean, not really, but the point of bonding isn't to intend--"
"What about yours?"
"What about mine?"
"Does it force fidelity?"
"Uh. No. What are you--"
Percy bit his lip. "This might be insane, but. I was wondering whether we could choose to meet the terms of both curses--and regardless of the formal opinion of the staff at St. Mungo's, this is a curse, thanks--and then be free to go our own ways. If you wanted. If…" Percy broke off. "Right. Insane. It's probably the damned thing creating the idea in my head anyway."
Draco was staring at him now, flushed, gripping his desk so hard his nailbeds had gone white-edged. "Um. We could try it?"
"But--"
"What? It was your idea."
"Right, but don't you want some time to--"
"Here's the thing. How many gay purebloods do I know?" Draco was quivering now, and it occurred to Percy he really ought to remove himself from the situation except he found he was also shaking with the effort of not leaping out of his chair and pouncing into Draco's lap.
"Uh. A few?"
"And of those, how many are making me hard discussing the arithmancy behind a damned spell. Even though they are Weasleys, for god's sake."
Percy inhaled sharply and tried to ignore his body's response to the information that he was making Draco hard. Not that this was exactly new information, not the way this had gone so far, but saying it out loud was something else. "Uh. Given I assume it's not Ron that's making you--"
"Ugh. No. Also, I do believe he has a beau, or you wouldn’t be fighting this." Draco was practically speaking through gritted teeth now.
"Very true."
"So. What do we--"
"I can't seem to get up and leave."
"Do you want to?"
"I. Yes. No. Yes. This is. Look, I can't go forging a damned bond because some idiot five hundred years ago--"
"Six hundred."
"Whatever. I can't go making some instant relationship. Poof! Bond!"
Draco winced. "Don’t make me laugh."
"What?"
"Honestly. Poof bond?"
"Oh. I didn't. Don't smile at me like that."
"Can't seem to stop."
"Right. What if--"
"I should--"
"Can you… call someone in here? To interrupt?"
Draco was panting now. "No."
"What?"
"No. If I let go of the desk to do that, by the time they get here they will be interrupting a lot."
"Oh. So…" Percy pushed against the floor with his feet, trying to distract himself from what was now a painful and consuming need.
Finally, all at once, they both snapped. They were only a few feet apart despite Percy's scooting, and when they both stood, it was a matter of a single step to come together, noses bumping, as they tried to work out how to coordinate Percy's height and Draco's hands under his shirt and no one stepping on anyone's toes.
It went surprisingly well for an unplanned and unfamiliar kiss, as though the curses--well, maybe charms, Percy let float through his head--were helping with that, too.
Percy pushed his tongue between Draco's open lips and groaned as Draco's fingers grazed his ribs, and then he lost track completely of what he was doing, going only with what felt good, turning them and pushing Draco back against the wall, leaning into him, pressing and whimpering, knee between his thighs, one hand braced on the wall, other hand down the back of Draco's trousers.
Finally, after one minute or five or maybe twenty, he pulled back, sure he looked as stunned as Draco. "This isn't right," he managed, stepping back.
Draco nodded. "F-felt right," he stammered, though he ducked under Percy's arm and moved away.
Percy stepped the other direction to increase the distance and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "I should go."
"I think you already said that."
Percy nodded. He had, but now he felt …relieved of pressure, in a way, though he wasn't sure there was any possibility of an orgasm powerful enough to relieve the pressure in his groin. "I'm. I'm going to, then. Go, I mean."
Draco nodded again. "Take your paper."
"No, uh. Can you look at it some more? I'll come fetch it. Tomorrow. Or." Percy was walking backward to the door as he spoke. He felt behind him for the handle and opened it, stumbling out into the hall.
He walked back to his office as quickly as he could, hands in his pockets to pull the front of his robe away from his body.
It didn't occur to him until he was back in his office leaving a note for Rose that he was leaving early--the note didn't say, because I have to go home and fuck my hand before I die, but only because he concentrated hard on making it not say that--that he hadn't resumed feeling ill after he'd left Draco's office.
That was probably significant, but he wasn't willing to spare even one second to thinking about it.
--
By the time Draco showed up at his door, Percy was exhausted.
He'd stepped through the Floo, Banished his clothes, and stood right there bare but for his socks and shoes in his sitting room before the fireplace with one hand on his cock and the other cupping his balls, coming hard and grunting and being glad beyond words he lived alone.
And then he'd gone to clean up, and the stray notion of Draco licking him clean had occurred to him, and faster than he's have thought possible at his age, he was hard again, looking in the mirror and biting his lip and squirting lotion in his palm and thinking about Draco watching him jerk off.
Things hadn't much improved from there.
Well. They'd improved in the sense he didn't feel sick any more, and now he thought about it, he hadn't wanked this whole time because he'd felt too bad, so maybe that was what was behind this absurd afternoon of self-touching. But honestly. He was nearly thirty, and he didn't think he'd ever spent an entire afternoon doing this ever, even when he was fourteen and had only recently discovered the joy of it and had miles of stamina. He'd wanked on the couch, and on his bed, and even while he'd been contemplating what to cook for supper. He'd tried taking a cold shower, but then he'd thought about Draco joining him in the shower, and eventually he'd brought up the water temperature and fingered his arse and spattered come on the tile, slumping forward against it, exhausted.
Something was very wrong.
He looked through the peephole before he opened the door, inexplicably knowing who it was but not trusting the nebulous sense of it, then opened the door and grabbed Draco by the wrist, dragging him in. "What did you do to me?"
He hadn't bothered getting dressed, and Draco looked him up and down and closed his eyes. "Nothing," he said, tense and tired. "Nothing you didn't do to me." He'd brought the parchment with him, and he held it out, which allowed Percy to see the prominent bulge in his trousers.
Percy took the paper being handed to him automatically. "Oh. Um."
"Um. I think unless one of us finds another pureblood to whom to bond, it's going to keep after us like this."
Percy gaped. "You think. …What?"
"I think by giving in earlier it sort of …partially did something."
"Have you--"
"Been trying to work it out all afternoon," Draco said. "I think… Look, can I just. Okay, I've never actually asked this before, but, please, can we just. I read through it again and it has a clause that I don't entirely understand but. It's something about mutual gratification. Um." He was very, very pink and looking at the floor by the time he finished explaining this, and Percy let the parchment drop and reached for him with both hands.
"You want to …have sex, then?"
Draco looked up and swallowed hard. "Right now, what I seem to want more than anything is to drop to my knees and take your cock in my mouth and make you come. If you'd like that. If. Fuck."
Percy swallowed at that, too, then Summoned his wand from where he'd earlier dropped it by the fireplace. He started to Banish Draco's clothes too, then stopped mid-incantation. "Uh. Is this--"
"God, please."
Percy finished the charm and dragged Draco to the couch. He sat down, and Draco did drop to his knees, hands on Percy's thighs, gaze focused on Percy's hard cock.
"Can I--"
"Yeah," Percy said, voice husky with need and anxiety and a tiny thread of horror that he was somehow forcing this, only it wasn't his own will being imposed.
And then Draco's lips closed around the head of his cock and slid down and back up, and Percy found he didn't care whose will it was because this was right and perfect and exactly the way the world should be. Draco was looking up at him, checking, he supposed, as to whether he was pleasing him, and Percy smiled. "Fucking brilliant," he whispered. "So good."
It took him a moment, when Draco pulled one hand back off his hip, to realize that he'd moved it to his own cock, but he could see his arse flexing and pushing, thrusting into his hand, and he slid his hand under Draco's chin to pull him up off his cock. "Stop."
"What? I--" Draco panted and blinked, his expression on of lustful panic, as though not finishing this right now might kill him.
Percy shook his head. "You said mutual. I'm not pleasuring you."
Draco looked down at his cock in his hand, then at Percy's bobbing before him and shiny-wet with spit. "Uh. Yeah, you are, actually."
"Well. I suppose at that, but… would you like anything else even more?"
Draco's hand tightened on his cock. "Uh."
"Because I was just thinking, if you came up here--" Percy hadn't finished the sentence before Draco was in his lap, straddling his hips, hand around both cocks. "Oh god. We could do that."
Percy let his head fall back and set his hands on Draco's hips to feel them move. He still didn't think he was doing much of the pleasuring, but when Draco came all over his belly and the head of his cock, he concluded he didn't much care. The warm wetness of it hitting his foreskin, along with Draco's expression and the convulsive squeeze of his fist sent Percy over, too.
He lazily cleaned them up and wrapped his arms around Draco's torso, holding him close, and shuffled them to lie down on the couch.
The bed was a hundred miles too far away, and this would be fine for now.
--
Percy woke to find it was morning. Which was probably only fair given his …six? Seven? Fairly consecutive orgasms the night before. He shifted slightly to reach down and move Draco's thigh from where it went off the couch, twisting them so his skin pulled uncomfortably.
"Mmf?" Draco said. He lifted his head and looked at Percy. "Um."
Percy grinned. "I think you fixed me."
Draco lifted a brow. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I got to not need to come for like, hours."
Draco pushed up on his hands to look down between them at both very interested cocks. "Doesn't look to me like--"
"Snot. I mean, there were hours in between. And now, I don't need to."
Draco looked back up at him, then looked away. "Oh."
Percy frowned. What was… Oh. "Not don't want to. Just it could wait, if, say, you wanted breakfast. Or you wanted me to wash your back first. Or you wanted me to demonstrate that I'm just as willing to get on my knees as you were. Or--"
"But if I don't want any of that?"
Percy shrugged, surprised as his own casual attitude but unable to bring himself to care a great deal. "What do you want?"
"Um. Actually, all of that, only not necessarily in that order, or right now." Draco grabbed Percy's wand because it was right there on the back of the couch against the wall, and managed a serviceable lubricant charm, slicking Percy's cock with it. "Right now, I want…" he stopped and blushed, which Percy found puzzling.
"What?"
"I've never. Right. I think I want you inside me, except I've never, um."
Percy stared for a moment, then shook his head. "Well. Then let's see how you like it." He wriggled them around to sitting up again, Draco straddling his lap, and helped him lift up. "Now we're not desperate--it worked for you too? Not desperate, I mean?"
"No. I mean, yes, it worked. So. Except I still feel sort of needy." Draco lowered himself slowly. "Oh. That's ...odd. Not bad, just… Oh!"
Percy waited while Draco figured out how to adjust, holding still despite the urge to arch up and push in hard. "All right?"
Draco slid down further and grinned. "Um. Yeah."
"Good." Percy wrapped his fingers around Draco's cock and tugged gently. "So. Does it bother you that a pair of curses--"
"Charms."
"Whatever. Are making us have sex?"
Draco shrugged. "Some. But… I don't think it would, um. Do that again."
Percy slid his thumb across the tip of Draco's cock again. "Would what?"
"Oh. Would have worked so …powerfully just from. God. From kissing. If we didn't. Can't talk about this later?"
"It does seem like a conversation we need to have," Percy agreed. "If we didn't what?"
"Didn't. Suit," Draco finished. "So it's not just sex." He frowned, not the confused frown of the day before, nor the desperate one of last night, but the petulant one of not getting his way. "Now shut up and concentrate on this."
Percy considered for a moment that he was coming to know the different frowns of Draco, and concluded that in fact, their curses had bound them well. And he had an instruction to follow. He looked up into Draco's eyes. "Concentrate? On making you come?"
"Us."
"Right. And not worry about how my brothers will take all this?"
"God, no. No thinking about brothers right now." Draco rocked and thrust against Percy's belly and scowled again.
"Good, since you utterly don't remind me of any of them." Percy stretched up to nip at Draco's ear, which got such a lovely response he did it again.
"Since when are you …playful?"
"Since you made me feel better? I'm practically giddy."
"Suitable, I suppose," Draco said, stilling thoughtfully. "Newlyweds are supposed to be giddy."
"Good, then. Now. I believe you said something about concentrating?"
"I did. On making us come. So we can get to all that other--the showering and back-scrubbing and whatnot."
"I do like a man with a plan." Percy winked, thrust up, and set about concentrating.