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“What do you mean I have to share a room with Harry and Draco?”
“Well, dear, it makes the most sense. Bill and Fleur are in with their kids, Ron and Hermione with theirs.”
“What about George?”
“You know George can’t stand to sleep with anyone else in his room. Not since—” Molly broke off. Percy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yes. That was probably fair.
“You cannot honestly expect me to share a room with them. They’re all over each other!”
“Don’t be so judgemental,” Molly said, frowning at Percy like she couldn’t see Harry and Draco snogging not ten feet away. “They know this is an unusual situation; I’m sure they’ll be respectful.”
—
“Oh, fuck, Draco, oh, God. Shhh, quiet.”
“Don’t you shush me, you’re the screamer.”
Percy pressed his pillow over his head, wishing he could smother himself with it. It was quiet for a moment. Then there were wet sounds; a moan. A rhythmic creak. Giggles.
“Stop moving,” came Harry’s voice in a whisper. “The bed, it’s—”
“Oh, yes, darling, it’s the bed, not you. Stop rutting against me like an animal then.”
“Please stop,” Percy whispered.
The movements went silent. Finally, Draco’s voice. “Erm. Sorry, Percival. We thought you were sleeping.”
“I’d really, really like to,” Percy said.
“Right. Sorry.”
It was silent for five minutes. Then, just as Percy was starting to drift off, the quietest sigh. A grunt. A moan. Then, a whisper, voice amused. “You’re insatiable. Go to sleep.”
Percy lay awake for half an hour afterwards, deeply aware of the other two people in the room and his very hard cock.
—
Harry slipped out of the room early the next morning in some sort of athletic gear. Draco caught Percy when he was coming out of the shower. He crossed his arms, frowning a bit.
“I’m sorry about before, Percival. You know how things are when a relationship is new.”
Did he? Percy’d never been incapable of keeping himself from getting off the next bed over from someone else. Percy’s cheeks pinked. He tried to avoid eye contact with Draco, but when he looked away, he saw his shoulders, his chest, the fine line of hairs that disappeared into his towel. He huffed and turned away completely. “Not that sorry, were you,” he snapped, peevish.
A pause. “What do you mean?”
Percy turned around again, face hot. “I mean you wanked off your bloody boyfriend not five feet away from me, not five minutes after I told you I could hear you.”
To his credit, Draco went a bit pink too. “Oh. We thought you were—”
“Sleeping, yes, well, I was trying. Turns out it’s easier without a live action porno happening the next bed over.” Percy knew he sounded like a prude, but, well, if it was prudish to not want your little brother’s best friend and his boyfriend to get off right next to you, then Percy would accept the title.
Draco cleared his throat. “We will be quieter in the future.”
Percy stared. “How about ‘we won’t shag next to you in the future’?”
Draco winced. “Yes, of course. That.” Percy saw Draco’s throat bob as he swallowed. His eyes flitted to Percy’s chest, then away, then back for some reason.
The door opened and they both turned as Harry walked in, soaked to the skin. “That was a fantastic run!” he said, beaming as he peeled off the dripping singlet. “Bracing! God, there’s nothing worse than running for the first three miles, and nothing better for the next three.”
Harry stepped towards Draco, who put his hands up, saying, “Rain or not you’re probably disgusting, and I just showered,” but he let Harry grab his waist and pull him into a kiss.
Of course, it quickly became heated. They were incapable of anything else.
“Do you still think I’m sleeping?” Percy snapped. When they glanced at him in surprise, he huffed and stalked out of the room.
The day passed pleasantly enough, though Percy glowered whenever he saw Draco and Harry kiss. They all went to dinner in a local vineyard, then walked back to the bed & breakfast in a boisterous group. The wine had loosened everyone up—even Percy, who carried Hugo under one arm, jogging in circles around the rest of them as Hugo screeched with delight.
His good mood persisted when Draco called, “Good night, Percival; Harry and I are going to stay down here for a bit.”
He did his ablutions and got into bed, warm and slightly buzzed from the wine. He considered trying to have a wank, but decided that he’d rather make sure he was fast asleep, in the event that Draco and Harry weren’t shagging in the garden or something. Ridiculous, they were. “Insatiable,” Draco had said. It certainly seemed so.
—
In their defence, they were trying to be quiet. Percy could tell. But the B&B was old, and the doors creaked, and the knob turned with a rattle, and they hadn’t even gotten inside before Percy was roused from his sleep.
“Shhh,” Harry said, and giggled.
“Seriously?” Percy snapped.
“Oh come on, Perce, we’re just snogging. We weren’t going to—go to sleep.”
“I was asleep.”
“I could do a sleeping charm, if you’d like,” said Draco, sounding amused.
“How about a silencing charm,” Percy said, and rolled over, facing the other way.
They cast a muffliato, the bastards. So instead of listening to them shag, Percy lay there, hearing muffled sounds and the shaking of the bed, deeply aware that if he turned his head he would be able to see exactly what he couldn’t hear. It was torture. It would have been better to have been sitting on the bed with them.
—
“Have you ever tried to sleep while someone shagged behind a muffliato next to you?” Percy asked Draco the next morning, when Harry was on his run.
“No?”
“I don’t recommend it.”
Draco smirked. “You literally told us—”
“I should have just ignored it. It was so much worse.”
“Well, next time, we’ll—sorry. No next time, of course.” Draco smirked at the obvious lie.
Percy restrained a scream.
“Next time,” Percy said, stepping very close. Draco raised his eyebrows. “Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m going to pretend I’m not sharing a room. Anything I hear at night is a fucking delusion. All right? We’re not discussing it.”
“That’s what you want, is it?” Draco’s words were very quiet.
“That’s what I want.”
Draco nodded, then stepped away. “As you wish.”
—
Percy hated Draco Malfoy with his whole heart.
“I want your mouth on my cock,” Draco had murmured, and Percy’s eyes had blinked open.
“Draco, we can’t, Percy’s—”
“—sleeping,” Draco finished.
“He wasn’t before.”
“Percival—are you awake?” Draco said quietly.
Percy worked at the ministry. He knew a power play when he saw one. He had told Draco he was going to ignore what he heard. If he admitted to being awake, he lost.
Percy stayed silent.
“There,” Draco murmured. “See?”
“He’ll be knackered off if he wakes.”
“I bet he secretly likes it,” Draco said, and Harry moaned.
A pause. “You want him to be listening, don’t you.”
Harry let out a muffled curse; Draco laughed.
Percy could scarcely breathe.
“Put that pretty mouth on my cock, darling,” Draco said.
Percy learned a few things in the next minutes. He learned that Harry was very, very good at blowjobs. He learned that Draco was just as mouthy as he would have guessed (did he intentionally choose a blowjob to keep his mouth unoccupied, just to torture Percy? Odds were good). He learned that Draco was bossy and domineering and utterly devoted to Harry.
He learned that Harry had a real thing for being watched, just in general, and possibly by Percy specifically.
He learned what it sounded like when they came, neither of them trying to be quiet.
Percy listened, face red, cock aching, as Harry and Draco murmured together until Harry drifted off to sleep. Then, a voice cut through the darkness, cool and quiet and amused.
“Sleep well, Percy,” Draco said.
Percy woke early the next morning and pretended to sleep (he was doing that a lot these days, wasn’t he) as Harry bustled around and left on his run. Once Draco was in the shower, Percy got up and quickly dressed: he knew how power plays worked. If Draco was bedraggled from the shower and Percy was dressed, he had a leg up.
Then, he waited, leaning against the little desk, ankles and arms crossed, frowning in the “dad mode” that Ron said Percy did better than either him or Bill.
The door to the loo opened and Draco stepped out in a cloud of steam. He hesitated when he saw Percy. Good.
Percy stepped forwards. “Did you sleep well, Draco?”
There was the slightest twitch of Draco’s eyebrow. “Magnificently, thank you. Did you?”
“I did,” Percy said. “A lovely night. Sweet dreams.”
Draco’s lip twitched. “About what, I wonder,” he said softly.
“Oh, I have a very active imagination,” Percy said.
“Do you now.” Draco looked assessing. “Tell me, Percival. What are your favourite types of dreams?”
“I—what?”
“Well,” Draco said slowly, leaning back against the wall. “For example, last night, I had a ‘dream’ about Harry sucking me off while some pervert listened.”
Percy flared his nostrils but otherwise didn’t react. He worked for the ministry; he had a damned good poker face, he knew it. Draco watched him as he continued. “But that would be very different from having a dream about, oh, me eating Harry’s arse whilst some pervert wanked, or about fucking Harry until some pervert gave Harry permission to come…”
Percy closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. When he opened them, Draco was smiling. “Interesting.”
“Yeah,” Percy said quietly. “Your ‘dreams’ do sound interesting.”
“Well,” Draco said, standing up straight. “Have a think on it. I would be rather curious to know more about your favourite dreams.”
“I will … consider it.”
“Do.”
They stood there for a moment, inches apart. At some point, Percy had stopped pretending not to look at Draco’s chest. (Draco had never pretended not to be looking at Percy.)
Percy paused, biting his lip. “Does Harry know?”
Draco frowned. “Does Harry know what?”
“What we talked about yesterday. About—” Percy didn’t want to stop pretending that he was asleep the night before—for one thing, it was less embarrassing this way, but also, that was kind of the fun of it—but he had thought that morning about how Draco had encouraged Harry, how Harry had sounded reluctant before giving in, with a sinking feeling in his gut. He had to know.
The door banged open; Draco and Percy both jumped. Harry looked at Percy, then Draco, then back to Percy. He went beet red.
“Hi. I need the loo,” he said, and rushed past them both. The loo door slammed shut.
“Oh yes, Harry knows,” Draco said. “But he’s not nearly as good of an actor as you.”
—
Percy was grateful for his acting skills that day.
“Sleep well, dear?” Molly asked as Percy pulled up a seat. He saw Draco smirk as he sat across the table.
“Yeah, Mum, it’s fine,” Percy said.
“Lucky for you,” Ron put in. “Rose was having nightmares.”
“Percival was telling me that he had a lovely dream last night,” Draco put in, not looking up from his coffee.
Everyone turned to Percy, expectant. “I got a promotion at work,” Percy gritted out.
“Oh, Perce has that dream all the time, Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I think that’s his favourite dream.”
Draco grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said, then changed the subject as Harry came traipsing down the stairs.
—
Percy, Draco, and Harry were getting ready for bed in the most awkward silence of all time. It wasn’t uncomfortable, really: at one point, Draco slipped past Percy to grab moisturiser whilst Percy was brushing his teeth and laid a warm hand on Percy’s back; when Percy did a little shuffle with Harry as they crossed paths in the narrow space at the foot of Harry and Draco’s bed, Harry gave him a small smile.
But they all knew what had happened the previous night. And they all knew what might happen that night. And none of them knew precisely what was going to happen. In part, because Draco had given Percy the opportunity to choose, and Percy, so far, had chickened out.
Part of him wondered what would happen if he didn’t say anything at all. Would they all lie there, awkward and silent, until they dropped off to sleep? Or would Draco and Harry revert to their earlier behaviour, giggling and doing their best to pretend Percy wasn’t there. That might be easier, in some ways. But … Percy kind of liked that he’d been included. He very much liked knowing that Harry wanted him there. And Draco … well, at the very least, Draco wanted him there because Harry did, and Draco would do anything for Harry. The way Draco’s eyes had flicked over Percy that morning … well, maybe Draco had his own reasons.
Percy was the last one to get into bed; Draco was sitting up, reading, his fingers combing through Harry’s hair. He looked up at Percy and nodded at the lamp, closing his book.
“Well, goodnight,” Percy said.
“Good night, Percival.”
Percy switched off the lamp and shuffled further down the bed. He heard a quiet murmur from Draco, then silence.
Percy shifted onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. When he swallowed, the sound was loud.
“I was thinking,” he said, his voice very quiet. The tension in the room stiffened.
“Yes?”
Percy was quiet so long he was surprised that Draco didn’t prompt him again. But Draco was patient. He waited in silence.
“I was thinking,” Percy said again. “That one of the nice things about dreams is that you … you don’t know what to expect.” He heard a small intake of breath. “You … you can’t just choose what you dream about. That’s part of the appeal.”
“You don’t … you don’t want to choose your dreams,” Draco said softly.
“I don’t think I do, no.” It relaxed something inside Percy, to admit it.
“Well,” Draco said, and his voice was warm; kinder than it usually was. He sounded like he was approaching a stray cat. “I assume there are certain types of dreams you don’t enjoy. Things you wouldn’t be happy to dream about.”
Percy scoffed, but Draco spoke again, sharper. “Don’t brush me off. I’m serious. Nobody wants you having a nightmare.”
Percy sighed. “I don’t know, all right? Something … something similar to the dream I had last night. Or. Well.”
“Yes?”
“The dreams we were talking about this morning.”
“Hmm.”
“What dreams?” It was Harry. Percy heard Draco’s voice, a low murmur as he presumably told Harry what they’d talked about. Then he heard Harry moan. Without intending to, Percy put his hand on his cock.
“Just to be clear … you want me to decide what kind of ‘dreams’ you have. Something similar to what we’ve discussed. And if you feel like you’re—”
“—having a nightmare,” Percy finished, “I’ll tell you.”
“Wish my actual nightmares were like that,” Harry mumbled.
“I’ve told you, you should try lucid dreaming,” Draco said, and the concern and fondness in his voice made Percy’s heart clench. Percy heard shuffling as Draco shifted.
“Up you get, darling, in my lap.”
“What are you—what’s this dream about,” asked Harry.
“Percival wants it to be a surprise,” Draco said. “Do you want me to tell you?”
“No,” Harry breathed. “No, surprise me.”
“In that case, get in my lap and put your hand on your cock. Both of you,” Draco said, and Percy realised he was included in the command. Somehow, Draco’s bossy voice didn’t sound so snotty in the dark.
“Well?” Draco said, when Percy didn’t move.
“I, er, already—” His fingers twitched on his cock.
“Oh, very well behaved. Good boy,” Draco said, voice amused, and Percy gasped.
“You could learn a thing or two from him,” Draco said to Harry.
“About following the rules? Shocking,” Harry said, but his voice sounded fond.
“Careful,” Draco said. “Percival gets to decide when you come tonight, darling; best not insult him.”
“Oh, fuck,” Percy and Harry said in unison. Percy winced. Evidently pretending to sleep was off the table now.
Draco laughed.
There was a rustling the next bed over, then a few murmurs of quiet conversation. Percy felt a flash of annoyance at being excluded, then shook himself. A moment later, Harry spoke up.
“It’s not fair to Percy for us to whisper about things,” Harry said. “Draco was just making sure I’m really okay, Perce.”
Percy swallowed. He nodded, then realised they were in the dark. “Thanks,” he said. “And … are you okay?”
“I’m a little embarrassed to say,” Harry said.
“Tell me,” Percy said, knowing that as bossy as he was, he couldn’t make commands like Draco.
“Tell him,” Draco confirmed.
“Huh,” Harry said, sounding dizzy. “You’re the two bossiest people I know, you know that? I like … I like this, Perce. I know you want to pretend—that’s fine, I get it. But I’m more than okay. I—fuck, can we play now?”
“Adequate, Percival?” Draco asked. “Harry wants to play.”
Percy’s throat was dry. “Then play with him.”
It probably didn’t say much for Percy’s past experiences in the bedroom, he thought, if slowly wanking himself the next bed over from Draco and Harry was head and shoulders the best sex he’d ever had. Harry was desperate, sweet and just a little bit sassy, snapping at Draco and then pleading with him. Draco’s voice was kind, but firm. He checked in on Percy just as often as he did Harry. Percy had expected to feel like an afterthought—dreaded it, honestly. He didn’t.
Percy listened, staring determinedly up at the ceiling—he decided he was not ready for a ‘dream’ in which he watched Draco and Harry have sex, as much as he wanted to see—as Draco opened Harry up and made him slowly ride his fingers.
“No, you don’t get my cock tonight,” Draco said at one point. “You get my fingers in your arse, and your fingers on your cock, and Percival telling you if and when you’re allowed to come,” Draco had said, voice buttery smooth. Percy felt his cock drip.
“Please, Percy,” Harry whispered, and Percy felt his face flush red. For one instant, he thought, “You’re going to sit down to breakfast tomorrow with Draco and Harry and your entire family and act like none of this happened.” And then Percy pushed that thought from his mind. He’d always been good at compartmentalisation.
“Ride his fingers faster,” Percy said, and Draco hummed in approval as Harry made a little noise. Percy heard the wet noises speed up. “And stop wanking yourself—” Harry moaned “—wank Draco.”
Harry and Draco both moaned at that. Percy’s own hand moved faster as he heard Draco’s muffled curse.
“Any other requests,” Draco said, sounding breathless.
“I didn’t think *you* needed my permission to come,” Percy snapped, and Draco and Harry both laughed, Draco in delight, Harry in shock. “Ride him faster,” he added, and the creaking of the bed increased. Percy stroked his cock in time with it.
In minutes, Draco was coming, and he was still gasping when Harry said, sounding desperate, “Please, Percy, can I touch myself?”
“Fuck, yes, but don’t stop riding him,” Percy said. “And keep begging.”
He was so close. He forced himself to wait, forced Harry to wait, as Harry quickly fell apart, in his own hand and on Draco’s, gasping and jerking, and only when Percy couldn’t stand it at all did he say, “Fuck, I’m gonna—come with me, Harry, fuck.”
Percy’s face burned as his vision sparked and he moaned into the hand covering his face.
Afterwards, there was just the sound of his and Harry’s rapid breaths.
Draco got out of bed and went to the loo; he pushed the door mostly shut before turning on the light. Percy chanced a glance over; all he could see was Harry’s slumped form.
“Are you okay?” Percy whispered.
“Yeah. Are you?”
Percy thought about that. “I’m not sure.”
Percy heard a small huff of laughter. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
They fell silent as Draco came back into the room. Percy was surprised that Draco approached him before Harry. He held out a glass of water, then waited until Percy sat up and took it. Percy drank. Draco sat primly on the edge of the bed. “Would you like me to do a cleaning charm?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah. Thanks.” The charm was light, ticklish. It was better than Percy’s.
“May I…”
“Yes,” Percy said, not knowing what Draco wanted to do, but realising that he trusted him. Draco’s touch was gentle as he ran his fingers through Percy’s hair, trailed down his arms, then pressed him back into bed and pulled the blankets around him.
“Are you all right?” Draco asked. “Do you need anything.”
“I’m fine,” Percy said. “I’m—take care of Harry.”
“All right.” Draco paused a moment, still sitting on Percy’s bed, before extending a hand to stroke Percy’s cheek. “You did well,” he murmured, before getting up and crawling back into bed with Harry.
Percy lifted his own hand to stroke his cheek as he heard soft voices in the next bed.
—
His mother had planned an activity for them in a vineyard the next day.
“Do I look like someone who does manual labour?” Draco asked, raising one eyebrow over his coffee at breakfast, but he didn’t look put out. He made eye contact with Percy, who was biting his lip on the words, “You sure did some work with your hands last night.” Draco’s lip twitched like he knew exactly what Percy was thinking.
Percy had, quite frankly, fled the room that morning. With everyone else, they could pretend. In the dark, they could pretend. But in the daylight, when it was just the three of them … Percy didn’t know what do, or what to think.
They all piled into a ratty old van to be driven out to the section of vines they’d be working on. Percy slipped into the third row, just in front of Ron, who had Hugo in his lap. Harry got in beside him, leaning over the back seat to give Hugo a loud kiss. Percy glanced up from Harry’s arse to see Draco slipping in on Harry’s other side with a smirk.
Eventually, they were all settled, and the van driver said something in French. Draco asked him something; when the driver responded, Draco and Fleur both cursed.
“It’s a forty-minute drive on bad roads,” he murmured, and everyone in the back of the van groaned. “Put your arse in the seat, Harry.”
Harry turned and plopped down, leaning his head on Draco’s shoulder. Percy tried to ignore the warm press of Harry’s knee against his.
A few minutes later he looked down in shock to find Harry’s hand gently brushing the skin of his thigh. He looked around, like someone else might see—Bill and Fleur in front of them were occupied with the kids. No one else could see, even if they went looking. He flicked his eyes to Draco, who was watching him thoughtfully, his gaze unreadable. Harry’s eyes were closed. Percy looked down again. He took a breath. Slowly, with a light touch, he let his fingers graze Harry’s hand. Then he changed his mind.
He slipped his hand onto Harry’s thigh. Perhaps rather higher than was appropriate; Harry twitched. He looked at Draco again; he was smiling. Harry’s eyes were open now, staring down at the hand brushing the inside of his upper thigh. Harry pressed his knees wider; Percy’s fingers twitched.
They rode the rest of the way down the bumpy path like that, Harry’s head on Draco’s shoulder, Percy’s hand on Harry’s thigh. When they got out of the van, Draco was waiting outside, a hand out to steady Percy. As Percy stepped down, before anyone could see, Draco’s other hand reached out again and stroked his cheek, just once, before he stepped away.
—
It was their last night in France. The whole family had sat down to a big (and long) dinner. Percy felt bad, as he held a sleeping Rose, but he just wanted to go back to his room. Their room. He saw Harry’s eyes flash over to him a few times over dinner; felt Draco’s hand brush his shoulder as he walked behind him. He didn’t think he was the only one.
It hadn’t been a bad day. The three of them had been working with Arthur in the fields, which had made things both more and less awkward. Every time Harry brushed his hand against him, Percy jumped, looking around; eventually, Harry had stopped. Percy missed it.
Finally, Ron and Hermione collected Rose, and Percy made his excuses quickly.
It was only a few minutes later that the door to the room opened. Percy watched in the mirror, brushing his teeth, as Draco approached him, eyes thoughtful again. He stood just close enough that Percy could feel his warmth. If he shifted, their bodies would be flush.
“Harry and I were talking,” he said softly, not breaking eye contact in the mirror. “What if … what if you had a dream tonight that you were in our bed.”
Percy stared back. He saw their chests rise and fall in the mirror. He saw his throat bob as he swallowed. He broke eye contact to bend down and rinse his mouth; his arse pressed against Draco and he held back a whimper.
He straightened again; nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Draco smiled; he lifted his hand to the nape of Percy’s neck and squeezed before slipping back out of the loo.
“Right,” Percy said to himself. “Okay.”
He came out of the loo, passing Harry, who reached out a hand to Percy as he passed with a small smile. Draco had scooted over a bit; the blanket was pulled back. Percy could see that Draco was only wearing his pants. Percy stood there, looking at Draco, then over at his bed, where his pyjama bottoms lay.
“Should I—” He paused.
Draco’s brow furrowed, just slightly. “Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”
Percy stood there a moment longer under Draco’s cautious gaze, then nodded. “Just a dream, right?” He thought he saw Draco flinch.
Percy unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, then tugged off his shorts. He paused, watching Draco’s eyes travel slowly down his body, then back up. When they made eye contact again, Draco licked his lips and smiled. He patted the bed next to him.
“Right,” Percy said again, and climbed into bed.
He and Draco sat there for a moment in silence. Then, Percy started laughing. It was a titter at first, then a chuckle. Then he heard Draco snort. By the time Harry came out of the loo, Percy and Draco were wailing with laughter, clutching their stomachs; Draco had slumped over, his head on Percy’s shoulder. Percy’s left hand was resting on the blanket over Draco’s knee.
“What on earth,” Harry said, a smile crossing his own face as he looked between them.
Draco shook his head. “It’s nothing, love. Turn out the light.”
Even as his titters continued, Percy felt the mood shift. In the darkness, Harry paused at the edge of the bed. “Should I—”
“Hmm.” Draco reached out a tentative hand to Percy. “Come sit here, in front of me?”
Awkwardly, Percy shifted. Draco lifted and spread his knees so they were either side of Percy’s torso; he tugged Percy back into his chest. He let one arm loop around Percy’s chest; Percy shivered as he felt lips brush his shoulder, his neck.
“Is this all right?” Draco murmured. Percy nodded.
Draco poked him. “Use your words.”
“It’s okay,” Percy said. “It’s … it’s nice.”
“Harry,” Draco said, and Harry climbed up across from them, kneeling facing them. Percy was glad it was too dark to know if Harry was looking at him. He was glad it was too dark to show his flushed face.
“What do you want,” Draco breathed into Percy’s ear. “Do you want something in particular?”
“I don’t—I don’t know.”
“Do you not know what you want, or are you afraid to ask for it?”
“I … I don’t know.”
Draco hummed and kissed Percy’s shoulder again.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Draco kissing his neck, Percy trembling, and Harry just watching and waiting, before Harry extended a tentative hand to Percy’s leg.
Percy felt like he had to say something. “We can do whatever you want. I don’t. You two are—I’m just here.”
“No,” Draco said, as Harry let out a snort of distaste. “No, you’re not ‘just here.’ You’re a part of this. We want you to be a part of it. *You*—not just someone. You, Percival.”
“Why me?” It had been weighing on Percy.
Harry pulled Percy’s legs down and crawled onto him, straddling his hips, brushing his hands up Percy’s stomach until his hands met Draco’s.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever met by boyfriend, but I have a thing for smart, prissy, bossy nerds,” Harry said. Draco huffed. Percy felt himself flush.
“As do I,” Draco added. “And if you’ve ever met *my* boyfriend, you’ll understand why I had to look elsewhere.”
Percy snorted. He reached a hand up to his chest, where Harry and Draco’s hands were tangled, stroking him. He linked his fingers with theirs.
“I want … I want to feel like I’m not an afterthought.”
Harry froze. “Have we made you feel that way?”
“No,” Percy said. “No, that’s just it. Even yesterday, I didn’t feel that way.” He paused. “I usually do. I don’t usually feel like I … fit.”
Harry gave a little sigh; Draco’s lips pressed against Percy’s neck. He felt like he might cry—he hated it.
Harry stared at him; Percy could barely see in the darkness.
“Can I kiss you, Perce?”
Percy didn’t make a joke about how he was in bed with them and Harry was basically in his lap. He felt the weight of the question.
“Yeah, okay,” he said.
Harry was very, very gentle with him. It was a careful kiss: fingers lightly grazing Percy’s cheeks, lips searching, tongue flicking across Percy’s lips, away. He stayed there after, lingering, their mouths together, sharing breath.
“Can Draco kiss you?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Percy said, and the word had hardly left his mouth before Draco had yanked him around; Harry almost toppled over.
Draco’s kiss was *not* careful. It was all fire and ice. Draco moaned into his mouth; held his head fiercely; moved him exactly where he wanted him. When he released him, Percy felt like putty.
“Wow,” Percy said, and Harry snorted.
“Yeah, that’s why I went first. Draco’s a hard act to follow.”
“Shut up,” Draco said, “I never want you to stop kissing me.”
“I noticed,” Percy said. Draco tugged lightly on Percy’s hair.
Harry shifted close again, straddling his hips. He hesitated, then lowered his face to Percy’s chest. Percy sighed as Harry’s lips brushed his nipple just as Draco bit down lightly on his neck. Percy lifted his hands to Harry’s shoulders, tentative. Then, as Harry continued to kiss his way across his chest, Percy felt his hands begin to move, exploring the contours of Harry’s body. He heard a quiet “That’s very good,” from behind him, and he didn’t know if Draco was praising him or Harry, but he didn’t care. Harry made a small noise into Percy’s neck when Percy cupped his arse.
Percy turned his head, and Harry met him in another kiss. They both groaned as Percy tightened his grip on Harry’s arse and pulled him closer against his hips. He shuddered as he felt Draco’s mouth on his neck again, felt fingers trailing down his stomach.
As though they’d planned it, Harry shifted, lifting himself, and Draco’s hand continued down. Percy made a garbled sound as Draco’s hand slipped into his pants and grasped his cock. Draco gave a little hum of approval. Harry pulled his mouth away from Percy’s.
“Well?” he said, and Percy would have asked what he was talking about if he had the brain power do anything but stare down at the pale hand that was stuffed down his pants, stroking his cock.
“Oh, I think you’ll be very pleased, darling,” Draco said. He turned to Percy. “Harry does so like to choke on a nice cock.”
Percy was the one doing the choking at that, and Draco chuckled, leaning in to kiss him again as Harry watched the two of them. Feeling reckless, Percy broke the kiss and turned back to Harry, and he moved his own hand to Harry’s cock. When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
“Oh, please, Percy, can I ride you?” Harry breathed.
“I—Draco?”
“I don’t own him,” Draco said, sounding amused. “Do you want to?”
“Fuck yes,” Percy said.
He felt warm lips on his neck. “Then do it. And I’ll stay right here with you, yes?”
“Yes—yes, I—” Percy reached one arm around to clutch at Draco’s leg, and in an instant, there were strong, firm fingers stroking down his arm and intertwining with his.
“I’m right here,” Draco said. He looked up at Harry, who was watching them both with a little smile.
It was searing; it was sweet. It wasn’t frenzied, though Percy might have expected it—he certainly felt frenzied—nor was it languid. Harry worked his way down Percy’s body, kissing and licking, eventually peeling off Percy’s pants. He sighed in appreciation at the cock that Draco was still stroking; he grabbed Draco’s wrist to pause him and licked a long stroke up Percy’s length, making him cry out. Then he continued, and Draco returned to stroking, doing a wandless, wordless lubrication charm at one point that made Percy gasp, “How often do you *wank*, that you know how to do that?” Draco laughed into his neck.
When Harry peeled off his own pants, Draco started to reach out, but Harry said, “I’ll prep myself. You take care of Perce.” ‘Taking Care of Perce’ seemed to mean Draco and Percy, tangled up together, Percy’s cock in Draco’s hand and Draco’s cock straining against Percy’s back, as they watched in rapt attention as Harry began fingering himself.
“Is he always—” Percy mumbled, already feeling wrecked.
“Like a bloody porn star? Yeah, it’s incredible,” Draco said. Then, as they watched, Draco’s fingers drifted lower. “Do you like…”
Percy’s thighs spread. “I’ve never bottomed,” he mumbled. But I think … I think I like both.”
Draco hummed. He waited. He was so fucking patient.
“Please, Draco,” Percy whispered. In an instant, Draco’s slick fingers were at his rim, not pressing, just stroking. When Harry was ready, Percy was a fucking mess, begging for more than the very tip of Draco’s finger. Draco withdrew even that, kissing Percy’s neck again.
“Later,” Draco breathed, voice rough.
“Fuck, Perce,” Harry said, “God, you’re so fucking hot.”
“I am?”
Draco laughed. “Oh, it’s always the ones who have no idea. Yes, darling. You’re stunning. Now shut up. Harry, come here and sit on his cock.”
Percy trembled in Draco’s arms as Harry climbed on him again. Draco’s hands didn’t leave him, and he peppered kisses on Percy’s neck between whispered encouragements. Harry leaned forwards, one hand on Percy’s chest, and captured Draco’s mouth in a searing kiss before dropping his lips to Percy and kissing him feverishly.
“I want you,” Harry said.
“I’m yours,” Percy said, and he wished it were true.
Percy remembered the next moments in flashes: Harry bottoming out and saying, “Oh, Jesus, that’s good;” Draco reaching out his hand, still clasped with Percy’s, to run fingers through Harry’s hair as he started to move; Draco, snaking his other hand around and slipping the tip of his finger into Percy again, at an angle that had Percy close to tears. Harry, coming across Percy’s chest. Percy smearing the cum like it might make him Harry’s possession. A sigh of approval, from someone, though Percy didn’t know who. It could have been himself.
Draco, as Percy drifted off to sleep, murmuring, “You did so wonderfully, darling.”
Percy fell asleep with a smile on his face, even though he knew it all had to end the next day.
—
Percy woke in a tangle of limbs and bedding. He looked to his left: Draco, curled in a tight ball, blanket pulled tight over his shoulders, one hand curled, brushing Percy’s ribs. To his right: Harry, all blankets and sheets kicked off of him, one leg dangling off the bed; the other was tucked under Percy’s knee.
Percy couldn’t bear to see regret on their faces. Didn’t want to see a sardonic smile cross Draco’s lips, or for Harry to blush and avoid his eyes. He couldn’t stand sitting through the inevitable “well, that was a lovely holiday fun” conversation. He absolutely couldn’t stand to laugh it all off, or to pretend to. He thought about all the times he had wanted to feel like he had fit in; all the times it had turned out that he was just a hanger-on.
Was it better, being alone? It felt safer, sometimes.
Percy thought back to his childhood, when he was never one to break the rules and sneak out, obviously, but sometimes he had just needed a break from the chaos of his family. Sometimes he just needed to be alone, with no one bothering him or trying to ‘help.’ So he had learnt, early on, when he still shared a bed with Charlie, how to sneak out of bed without waking people.
He concentrated hard. He felt the surge of magic. When he picked himself out of bed, the rest of the bed stayed still, not jostling the others. Percy stepped gingerly over Harry, then looked over his shoulder: they were still fast asleep. Draco’s fingers twitched and brushed forwards into the warm spot Percy had left.
Percy was always prepared: he had stayed packed for the whole trip, removing and replacing clothing items as he went. He dressed in seconds. He found his pants from the night before flung to the ground and picked them up, face flushed. He crept to the loo and collected his toothbrush, his few toiletries.
He’d only been awake three minutes when he did a silencing spell on the doorknob—with a pang for how things might have been different if Harry and Draco had done that at the start of the trip—and slipped out of the room.
He left a note at the front desk for his parents. He did not leave a note for Harry and Draco. At the Portkey office, he was informed by a sleepy, disgruntled employee that there weren’t any early Portkeys without prior arrangement, but there was a train leaving to Paris in fifteen minutes, and Portkeys left the Paris station for London every half-hour, all day.
Half an hour later, Percy was watching the French countryside fly by the train window, and wishing he didn’t feel like he was running away.
One Week Later
There was a banging on his door on Sunday morning.
The second Percy had started to pull it open, Harry was pushing past him with a snarled, “Fancy seeing you here, Perce.”
Draco stood in the corridor, arms folded and brows furrowed, looking beautiful and remote and careful. “Hello, Percival.”
“Hi,” Percy said. He tried not to stare.
“May we—may *I* come in?” Draco asked, glaring into the room after Harry.
“Fine. Yeah, fine.”
Draco swept past him, slipping off his jacket. Percy held his hand out for it. When Draco gave it to him, their fingers brushed, and Draco hesitated, like he wanted to press a hand to his shoulder. Instead, he turned.
Percy followed him a minute later to find Draco and Harry in the kitchen having a whispered conversation over Percy’s tea things. Percy hesitated for a moment in the doorway, then felt a flash of frustration.
“Thought it wasn’t fair for you two to whisper about things,” Percy snapped, then hated himself. So much for pretending none of it ever happened.
Harry looked at him, gave a little close-mouthed scream of frustration, and walked out of the room.
“I think what Harry’s trying to say,” Draco said, a little smile playing round his lips, “is that it wasn’t fair for *you* to leave us alone in France without so much as a word.”
Percy blinked. “I thought. But that’s all it was. A holiday.”
Draco raised his eyebrows. “Have you had many holidays like that, then?”
Percy swallowed. “Well, no, but—”
Harry stomped back into the kitchen; he had clearly been just outside, listening. “Do you think that’s what we do, then? Draco and I are just shagging our way across Europe, with whomever happens to be stuck sharing a room with us?”
“Well … yes.” Percy rephrased quickly at the look on Harry’s face. “I mean, no, but I thought. This all started because I happened to get stuck with you. Because Draco and I were arguing.”
“We weren’t arguing. We were flirting,” Draco said.
Percy stared.
Draco frowned. “Did you … did you really not know?”
Harry put a hand over his face with a groan. “To be fair, distinguishing your flirting-arguing from your actually-annoyed-arguing does take time. Might not have been fair to expect Perce to discern.”
“I’m very confused right now,” Percy said.
Harry started bustling with the tea. Percy heard him start to say something and then huff several times.
“Percival,” Draco finally said. “We were rather hoping to have a conversation with you before we left France. That was … not possible, as it happened.”
Harry huffed again.
“Okay,” Percy said, bracing himself.
Draco watched him for a moment, then forged ahead. “Harry and I would be interested in dating you. Romantically.”
“And sexually,” Harry said. “Don’t forget that part.”
“Yes, well, I don’t think he was likely to forget that part, darling.”
Percy squinted, trying to process. “You want to … date me. Both of you. Together?”
“We’re sort of a package deal,” Harry said.
“And … not just in France?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not at all opposed to returning to France, but I’d rather not have to every time I wish to see you. For one thing, given that we all live in London, that seems rather inefficient.”
Percy stood there as Draco watched him, brow furrowed with concern, and Harry finally turned around with a cup of tea, which he brought to Percy. Percy looked down at it, then took a sip: it was brewed exactly how he liked it: extra milk and just a touch of sugar. Even *he* didn’t usually bother to make his tea just the way he liked it; he wasn’t sure when someone else last had.
He looked from Draco to Harry.
“You want … me.”
Harry sat at the kitchen table with a slump. “Why am I attracted to *stupid* smart blokes? Surely there are smart blokes out there who aren’t smart and stupid.”
“Ignore him,” Draco said, stepping forwards. “He gets a little overwrought.”
Draco hesitated again, then took Percy’s tea and set it on the table. He took Percy’s face in his hands. “I would like to kiss you. In London. If you permit it.”
Percy nodded.
Draco’s lips curled into a smile. “Use your words.”
Percy rolled his eyes. “Kiss me.”
Draco kissed Percy like he was the greatest gift anyone had ever offered him. Percy couldn’t help it. He sagged into Draco, who slipped his hands from Percy’s face to his back. When they parted, Percy felt dizzy.
“Wow,” he said again. Draco looked smug.
Percy turned his head to Harry, who was watching, looking both fond and annoyed. Before Percy could speak, Harry did.
“We told you, Perce. We wanted you to be a part of this. You. And you left.”
Percy felt Draco’s hands twitch on his back. He saw the hurt in Harry’s eyes.
“I thought,” Percy said softly. He pressed his face into Draco’s shoulder; his voice was muffled. “I thought it was just a dream. I didn’t think it was allowed to be real.”
Harry stood and walked over, running fingers through Percy’s hair, then grabbing his chin and brushing his lips against Percy’s.
“You’re not an afterthought, Perce. Not for us. We want—we want you. But only if you want us too.”
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Draco said. “But please don’t run away again.”
“I don’t need to run away,” Percy said. “I don’t need to decide.”
Percy squared his shoulders. It was time to start choosing his dreams.
“I know what I want,” he said. “I’m not going to be afraid to ask for it anymore.”