At first, Percy barely noticed the same day was repeating itself, over and over. His life was a series of routines, after all, things that occurred on schedules. Meticulous actions gave Percy the ordered life he craved, and he derived a sense of contentment from always knowing what would happen next.
It was an ordinary Thursday. Percy woke, stumbled blearily to the loo, took a piss, made himself a cup of tea, got dressed as it steeped, read the Daily Prophet while he drank and then travelled by Floo the Ministry at five to nine, as he did every day. It was all normal paperwork and catching up on the last day's messages for the first hour, until his departmental meeting with Kingsley at ten.
So he hardly noticed the same song on the wizarding wireless in the morning, or even the lunch choice in the Ministry cafe being the same as it was yesterday. It was a bit of a tip-off, however, that something was awry, when everyone else seemed to suddenly acquire a routine they'd never bothered to affect before. Everyone else’s normal behaviour was erratic and random, something Percy hated. So when, three days in a row, everyone seemed to do the same things at the same time, Percy became suspicious.
The rather repetitive news coverage in the Daily Prophet was a bit of a tip off, as well.
Nonetheless, Percy continued about his routine, going to work every day and filing reports, only have them to reappear on his desk the next day. He carried on the same inane conversations with his co-workers, casting them strained smiles as he breezed about the corridors. He ate the same food, read the same book, went to bed at the same time. Nothing around him changed or moved forward; everything was in perfect order.
It was also bloody boring. After two weeks, Percy started to get restless. He made the brash decision to start mixing things up a bit – but he made sure not to go too far in case things went back to normal. At first it was just small things – a grammatical mistake in his cauldron report, using the wrong name to greet a co-worker. Still he woke up the next day to find it was still the same day.
Thursday again and again and again.
Never Friday. Never the weekend. Only Thursday.
Two months and Percy had had it. He threw caution to the wind – skived off work when he felt like it; nothing. Waltzed into his office without his trousers on (earning a raised eyebrow from Kingsley); nothing. His behaviour escalated until he found himself shouting at people who had always been rude to him, gorging himself on sweets knowing he'd never see the adverse effects, using the Floo to call old girlfriends (okay, just one) and informing them they'd never satisfied him in bed, telling Kingsley to go fuck himself, just to see what he would do. The in-the-moment results were horrifying, but eventually Percy stopped caring because it wouldn't matter. Tomorrow would be a new day. Or the same day. Same difference.
After the two hundredth Thursday, Percy decided to kill himself.
He started light, almost cowardly, taking too much Sleeping Draught, and when that didn't work, he tried a rather messy Severing Charm. Yet he woke up the next morning in his bed, bathroom rug very much blood-free, and himself very much still alive. After that he tried jumping off the Ministry building. Poisoning himself. Provoking a drunken football fan into going at him with a knife. And he always woke up the next morning, just fine.
This was his final attempt at death – if this didn't do it, nothing would. He looked at his grim face in the mirror, weary eyes staring back at him, egging him on. Do it now, Percy. The worst thing that could happen is you wake up tomorrow morning. Indeed.
Raising his wand until it pointed at his own chest, reflected in the mirror, Percy spoke a forceful Avada Kedavra, and everything went green, and then black.
It appeared that Percy couldn't die.
It was the day (though it was the same day as every day before it) that Percy started to go a little crazy.
And then he decided that it was time to really throw caution to the wind, and do what he'd secretly always wanted to.
Fuck his way through the Ministry.
Kingsley was the most obvious choice -- some of Percy's dirtiest fantasies were about his boss.
Percy decided over his desk would be best, so he delivered his "go fuck yourself line" again, adding before Kingsley turned purple and gave him the sack like last time, "or fuck me, if you'd rather." Then he unceremoniously flopped down over his desk, purposely upsetting a stack of papers he knew would reset themselves the next day, presenting his arse to the Minister of Magic. Kingsley gulped behind him, choking on his angry retort, and when Percy heard him fumble with his zip, he knew he'd won. Without even asking Percy what the hell had got into him (the gay porn mag Office Lads and their Hung Superiors he'd purposely left open on Kingsley's desk may have given him a hint or two), he used a spell to get rid of Percy's trousers and pants, and cupped one hand around Percy's arse cheek.
"I'll not have you speaking to me that way, Weasley. Clearly my predecessors failed to teach you proper decorum."
Percy shuddered. Two-Galleon words like 'decorum' got him ridiculously hot. Usually Kingsley was a three-Sickle word kind of man. It helped that decorum made Percy think of the word dick, and his throbbed as Kingsley slipped his thumb in between Percy's cheeks.
"Then clearly, sir, you'll need to show me how best to serve you."
"Hmmmm," Kingsley hummed. "Perhaps you should cancel my afternoon appointments."
"Yes SIR!" Percy squeaked as the tip of Kingsley's thumb pressed against his hole.
His actions having no consequences was starting to look like the best thing that had every happened to him.
It was amazing how many times Percy managed to bait Kingsley. They did it all over the office, in every imaginable position, and no matter how hard the Minister pounded into him, Percy woke up the next morning feeling as if nothing had happened.
This got boring after a while, however, especially since Kingsley was an adamant top, and more straight than anything else. He was perfectly happy to fuck Percy into the desk, or wall, but never touched Percy's cock or let him reciprocate. It was unfortunate, but not the end of the world. Though, really, perhaps it was.
What Percy really wanted now was a blow job. And to work his way through his list. He had, of course, made one, and having learned the lesson that nothing created after the time loop began could be carried over to the next day, he committed it to memory. It was both in alphabetical order and colour-coded according to age, location and profession. There were particular symbols for straight-but-curious, flamingly gay, bi-sexual, bi-curious and 'easily persuaded to accept a blow job if drunk.'
He was riding in the lift, contemplating who best to approach next – Terry Boot in Muggle Relations or Michael Corner from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad (flamboyantly gay and bi-curious, respectively) when Draco Malfoy waltzed on, casting him with a particularly disparaging look. Malfoy, Percy knew, was stuck working as a glorified file clerk down in the finance department – the only job he'd been able to secure after the war. He had filed (ironically) many appeals to the Minster's office for a promotion, but Kingsley had denied him every time.
Before the world went topsy-turvy and never-ending, it would have never occurred to him to use his position in the Minister's office for sexual favours; now it seemed like a perfectly legitimate game plan. He hadn't devoured and memorised Prefects Who Gained Power for nothing, and now that the only power to be had was over his own boredom, Percy figured any way to get a blow job was still getting a blow job.
Bringing the lift to a stop, Percy rounded on Malfoy, who looked rather hacked off at the interruption.
"What the fuck are you doing, Weasley?" Malfoy sneered, flicking his wand at the controls.
"That won't work, Malfoy. Draco. Listen – I have a proposition for you."
"Excuse me? What on earth could you possibly have to propose?"
Malfoy perked up at that.
"A promotion? And why would you be willing to help me get out of filing hell?"
"Because I'm a good Samaritan."
Malfoy looked sceptical, and Percy inwardly applauded him for his good sense.
"And because I'd really like you to blow me. Now, actually. One blow job and I put in a good word with Kingsley, maybe push your paperwork through when he's not paying attention."
"That's an option, as well," Percy responded. "But honestly right now what I really want is my cock in your mouth."
Malfoy studied him.
"I would have never pegged you for the type, Weasley. For bribery, either. How do I know you'll actually help me?"
"You don't. But judging from the fact that you haven't said no yet, I'd say either way you get something out of it."
Malfoy's lip quirked and Percy grinned, goofily, he was sure, though in his mind he was aiming for cocky. Lifting his robes and easing down the zip on this trousers, Percy informed him, "I like it nice and slow."
The best department, so far, was definitely the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Full of young Quidditch fans – from the bright-eyed seventeen-year-old fresh Hogwarts' graduates to the thirty-something middle management, they were all hard-bodied (from the inter-departmental Quidditch league), and more than one same-sex inclined. Percy made up all sorts of ridiculous reasons to stop by, and all it usually took was striking up a conversation with one of the more rabid fans, letting Oliver Wood's name drop, and they'd be all over him. After all, now that Oliver had moved up from a reserve player to Puddlemere's starting Keeper, his name-dropping value had sky rocketed.
People were always sceptical at first at Percy's knowledge of Quidditch and the fact that he knew personally one of the league's rising stars, but when he brought out his statistical analyses of player performance, their eyes would flash and Percy could practically see their Fantasy Quidditch League line-up dance through their mind. He got numerous dinner invites out of this, and from one competitive bloke, a quickie in the loos after lunch in exchange for information. He gladly shared his ideas for the privilege, knowing it would hardly hurt his Fantasy League odds or theirs, since they'd never have the opportunity to change their picks on Friday.
He got a month of blow jobs, hand jobs and fucking out of this before it even occurred to him that, hey, it might be time to pay a visit to his old friend Oliver. He'd enjoyed nearly three months of concentrated fucking at the Ministry, and it was time to test how far he could Apparate, who he could fuck and for how long.
Oliver took the least persuading out of anyone Percy had previously tried to hook up with – the minute Percy showed up and, blushing, shook Oliver's hand, Oliver's eyes took on a mischievous glint and before Percy knew it, he had him backed up against a row of lockers.
"'lo Perce," Oliver said by way of greeting, insinuating a leg between Percy's and pressing up hard against him. "I hear you've come out of the closet. I was hoping you'd come to see me… after all, I helped you win last year's Fantasy League, didn't I?"
"Hello, Oliver. And, yes, I suppose you did."
Maybe it was seeing an old acquaintance – okay, more than that, more like the bloke who had set Percy's 'I think I'm gay' ball rolling – but Percy's heretofore suaveness about the whole 'fucking his way through his (half) life' thing disappeared, and it was like he was back in school, watching a sweaty, muddy Oliver strip off in their dormitory room. He felt his cheeks heat, and all other available blood rush to his cock.
Oliver leaned in and licked – licked! – a trail from Percy's collarbone to his jaw.
"Want to fuck in the showers?" he asked gruffly, nipping at Percy's ear.
Fantasy number 235, checked off the list, then.
After exhausting himself of attractive – and homosexually inclined – Quidditch players and former schoolmates, Percy decided it was high time he paid his former professors a visit.
Remus was quite obliging, once they'd shared some tea and conversation, and Percy made his intentions clear. It helped that the approaching full moon (which Percy knew would never arrive) made Professor Lupin particularly horny, and more likely to overlook a few things, such as how Percy was wearing his uniform and insisted on moaning "Oh, yes, Professor, ream me open with your huge cock; I've been a bad boy!" as he impaled himself on Lupin's prick.
After several days of repeat performances, Percy realised he'd much rather do this role playing at the site that had inspired such fantasies, but could think of only one person still at Hogwarts that he would be interested in fucking.
It took fourteen successive tries (and days) to get Snape to sleep with him. Well, more accurately, to get Snape to fuck him over his desk.
"Professor, I don't think the Headmaster would approve of this form of punishment," Percy ground out as Snape pounded into him from behind. God, this was even better than when he'd done this with Kingsley. Snape's trademark red ink had tipped over and Percy could feel it as it stained his fingers and palms.
"On the contrary. I think the Headmaster would approve, indeed, of my punishing an impertinent little brat such as yourself, Weasley. I think the Headmaster would fuck you harder." Snape illustrated this by doubling his pace, snapping his hips hard against Percy's tailbone.
"Oh, fuck," Percy groaned, digging his nails into the soft grain of the wood as he came, messy and hot all over the desk and his stomach.
"Language. As Head Boy you should know better," Snape teased.
Well, it wasn't quite as good as fucking in Snape's dreary old Potions lab, but he had always entertained thoughts of doing naughty things in the Headmaster's office. If only Snape had been heading up Hogwarts when Percy had been Head Boy.
Snape leaned down close to Percy's ear. "And now that we've removed that stick up your arse, what I really want to know is whether or not you live up to that title. Many Head Boys before you have tried, but I suspect you'll take the Cup on this one, Weasley. Know-it-alls always give the best head."
Percy felt dirty. And he liked it. For years he had kept his darkest fantasies, hell, the lighter ones, too, to himself, because Percy Weasley was a Straight Arrow who did not like things like rimming, rough sex…Slytherins. Now he could have as much as he wanted, and no one would ever know but him. Maybe he'd grow bored of this existence eventually, but before that happened, he was determined to do the one thing he had always thought about, deep at the back of his mind, but never entertained actually doing. He didn't even know if it was possible, but just in case it was…
So he found himself in Romania this particular same-Thursday, armed with Ogden's finest Firewhisky and the hope that maybe he'd get at least kiss out of it. If more, great, but even the slightest dirtydirtywrongwrong show of affection from Charlie would make for masturbatory material for a few years, at least, if the one he'd had since he'd walked in on Charlie fucking another man three years ago was anything to go by.
Charlie was surprised to see him, sure, but he gladly accepted the Firewhisky and loved the idea that Percy was skiving off work to see him, and decided to forego his own day's work in a show of solidarity. They polished off the bottle in an hour, at which point Charlie produced some Romanian brand of liquor and they worked on that for a good two.
Once Charlie was good and sloshed – as was Percy – Percy clumsily moved on him, smushing his lips up against his brother's. Charlie spluttered with feeble protestations of Percy's name, hands flying to Percy's torso. Alcohol had slowed both their reflexes, however, and what Percy was sure was meant to be a gesture to push him away felt more like a clumsy caress, and Percy moaned as Charlie's fingers dipped below his shirt and met bare skin.
Before Percy could slip his tongue into Charlie's mouth, Charlie managed to push him off.
"Percy! What the fuck! Are you that drunk?"
"Hmmm," Percy hummed, reaching for Charlie again, but he batted away Percy's hands. "Come'n Charlie," whined Percy. "Won't matter tomorrow, promise. Just wanna… kiss you. Pleassse."
"Won't matter tomorrow? Of course it will matter! Percy what're you…?"
Percy was fumbling with the buttons of Charlie's trousers. He smirked at the hardness he found there.
"You're hard, Charlie. Want me to…"
Charlie protested weakly, but did nothing to stop Percy as he unzipped his trousers and palmed at Charlie's cock through his pants.
So now Percy had been sucked, fucked and rimmed; done it standing up, lying down, bent over a desk, in the shower, against a wall, in someone's lap. He'd topped and bottomed and moaned and groaned; fucked his boss, his classmates, his teachers, his brother. He'd lived out nearly all his fantasies, except for one. A gangbang. The sex was, well, starting to get boring, considering he could have almost anyone he wanted, as many times as he wanted, in any position he wanted – it wasn't difficult anymore, it had just become another routine. He'd always entertained ideas of being fucked by more than one person at once, and now he just had to choose a group to bait for the deed.
He briefly entertained getting all the Quidditch players together, but he was limited by the day with which fate had stuck him, and there was nothing happening on his Thursday he could use to manipulate a situation. Maybe some group at the Ministry, then? The lads in the Department of Magical Games and Sports might be up for it, but while the threesome he'd had with two of them had been hot, he couldn't see them really getting into the idea of all fucking Percy in succession. He needed a group with a masochistic streak. Not shy, and maybe a little power hungry.
Maybe it was time to pay the Department of Magical Law Enforcement a visit. The Auror Squad in particular.
Percy started planning.
It's funny how, if you put people in the same set of circumstances, they will make the same decisions over and over again. Percy was coming to realise that everyone unknowingly followed routine, and what they thought were decisions made based on the feeling of the moment were really instinct, logic and reason.
He had Aurors Goldstein, Davies, Macmillan, Smith, Finch-Fletchley, Bullstrode, Bones and Harry Potter in a private room at a dingy pub for the fourth night going. Every night he got them all drunk, luckily managed to lose the women (plus Goldstein, whom Bulstrode pulled off to shag in the loos), and the last three nights he had used a game of Truth or Dare to bait the remaining five into a heady fuckfest. Well, five minus Harry.
Harry had sat there, watching Percy as he worked to get the others in precisely the position he needed them to make things happen, but the last two nights he'd bolted before anything happened. Percy was at a loss to figure him out, but, well, he'd never really understood Harry Potter. Much to the consternation of his family, especially Ron.
Things were kicking off now – Macmillan was on his knees, giving Percy a sloppy but enthusiastic blow job. Smith and Davies were engaging in a bit of mutual masturbation, and Finch-Fletchley was watching them all go at it, his own hand moving rapidly over the bulge in his pants. Harry, who had never stayed long enough to watch this part, had his eyes fixed on Percy, and no one else.
God, that got him hot, Harry watching. Harry fucking Potter, watching as Macmillan sucked Percy off. Clearly Harry wasn't as easily manipulated as the others, which stirred Percy's curiosity. He hadn't even considered putting him on his list, considering he was, well, Harry Potter. Yes, he'd broken up with Percy's sister ages ago, but he'd been single for a while before time went loopy, and was certainly never linked to any men. Percy knew a lost cause when he saw it. But, how could Harry be a lost cause when there was a gay orgy unfolding before him and he wasn't leaving?
"Mmmmnnn, fuck, yes Macmillan. Suck me," Percy moaned, and both Smith and Davies turned to look at them. Both of them seemed to hit on the idea at once that they had a wanton, supposedly drunk Minister's assistant in front of them and that was all it took. Percy knew he had them.
"Better yet," he faux-slurred for their benefit, "why don't you fuck me. All of you."
There was an abrupt screech of metal against threadbare carpet, and Percy turned to see Harry fumbling with his chair, then bolt for the door. He didn’t say anything, just fled, closing it with a heavy thunk behind him. Disappointed but undeterred, Percy flicked his wand at the door, saying a quick locking and silencing spell, then turned back to the other four men.
"So? How about it? I want you to fuck me, one after the other, until I'm dripping with your come."
The looks on their faces was priceless, as they scrambled to get their clothes off.
Now that Harry's sexuality was on the table, Percy was fixated on the new goal of getting him involved. The problem was, he never seemed to drink more than one glass of spirits, and excessive alcohol consumption was pretty much where Percy's strategy started and ended. Thinking Harry might just need some extra attention, tonight Percy took particular care to make sure he drank as much as possible.
"Want another one, Harry?" he asked brightly, already pouring a measure of tequila into Harry's shot glass.
"No, I'm fine, Percy," Harry said, pushing the glass away, a little tequila spilling over onto his fingers. That gave Percy an idea.
"Oh, whoops! Let me…" He snatched up Harry's hand, pulling the tequila-soaked index and middle fingers into his mouth and sucking, hard. Harry's eyes went wide.
"No use letting good drink go to waste," Percy mumbled around the fingers before giving them a very suggestive swirl of his tongue. "Or a mouth," he finished. If this didn't send the right message, nothing would.
Percy had, of course, been hoping this would inspire Harry to pull out his dick right there so Percy could get to enthusiastically sucking him, but instead Harry jerked back hard, as if burned, and pushed back his chair.
The others, having been completely oblivious to Harry and Percy before, now noticed, and Macmillan slurred drunkenly, "Oi, Harry, where you goin'? Not done with the 'quila yet. Going to see who pukes first. C'mon!"
"No, no, sorry Ernie," Harry said in a rush of air. "Gotta dash. Got, um, stuff to do. Bye. See you all… tomorrow." Flashing them a sheepish grin, he moved backwards toward the door, fumbling for the doorknob and, once finding it, turning it and rushing from the room.
Percy sighed. He'd have to try again tomorrow. But for now…
"So who's up for a game of Truth or Dare?"
There was no impromptu finger sucking this time. Instead, Percy used the same tack as he had the last time Harry had stuck around until nearly the main event. He ignored him.
Until he discovered that it is really hard to ignore someone who is burning a hole into you with their eyes.
Harry was watching him. Again. Just as he had done the last three times Percy had done this, only tonight he had the most perplexed look on his face. Now, Percy was used to perplexed looks, since they were usually in response to him acting uncharacteristically, but considering he knew they would never remember what happened the next day, he didn't let it bother him anymore. But Harry, Harry had a look of recognition on his face. Of fascination and abhorrence and connecting dots and wheels turning. Percy's stomach did a flip-flop that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
Percy sent Harry an awkward smile and tried to throw off the unsettling feeling. He turned to the other men, and tried to keep things on track.
"So, who's up for a game of Truth or Dare?"
Before anyone could answer in the affirmative, Percy found himself being jerked to his feet, Harry at his side with a firm grip on his arm, already dragging Percy towards the door.
"Guess Harry doesn't like that game," Percy heard Smith guffaw from behind him.
"Jesus, Harry! What the – let go of me!" Percy screeched, struggling against Harry's grip as he dragged him from the room and over to the men's bathroom. Harry didn't say anything, or let go, he merely grunted, jerking open the bathroom door with the other hand and unceremoniously tossing Percy in ahead of him.
Percy landed hard on his arse, and skidded a few feet over to the wall by the urinals. As he groaned and massaged his throbbing arse and hips, Harry searched the two stalls for company and, finding no one else there with them, muttered a Locking Charm against the bathroom door. They were right next to the women's loos, and Percy could hear Bulstrode and Goldstein moaning through the walls. He wished he had his wand so he could do a Silencing Spell, but he'd left it in the other room, and Harry didn't bother with one. Instead, he hauled Percy up on his feet and slammed his back against the wall.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Percy?" he snarled, and Percy couldn't help feeling both terrified and aroused at the same time.
"What do you mean, Harry? I'm treating you guys to a drink, clearly," Percy answered.
"Bullshit." Harry's eyes flashed.
"Harry, I don't know what you're--"
Harry cut him off before he could come up with anymore excuses. "You're stuck in the loop, too, aren't you?"
"No, you don't understand, I--what?"
That was certainly the last thing Percy expected Harry to say. Stuck in the loop, too? As in, as well?
"Wait. What do you mean, too? You're-"
"Stuck repeating the same day over and over again? Yeah. What I'm a bit confused about, however, is that you are, too, and using it to get fucking laid. Jesus Christ, Percy."
"I…I… well, I thought no one would be the wiser! It's not like anyone remembers the next day! I'm completely alone! Or… was? I… I'm confused."
"That makes two of us."
"Are you sure you're caught in the same loop?" Percy pressed, in case this was just some awful, incredibly spot-on joke.
"Um, yeah, pretty fucking sure. I mean, I know that I've seen you, four nights in a row, try to get into my team's pants. And succeeded the last two." Maybe it was Percy's imagination, but he swore he saw Harry colour as he spoke.
"So you've been trapped here with me this whole time? How have I not seen you? What have you been doing?"
This was just unbelievable. This whole time he hadn't been alone? And, worse, there was a witness to his brazen, slutty behaviour? Percy coloured, as well.
"Trapped with you? I'd say you're trapped with me, considering I'm pretty sure this is a Dark spell meant to drive me insane. I can't break it – I've tried – but I'm sure it'll end eventually. And I've been doing all sorts of things. Stayed home for a while. Took in a few films, plays. Travelled. Relaxed."
"For two years?"
"Has it been two years?" Harry furrowed his brow, as if trying to tally it up in his head.
"Nearly, yes," Percy said.
Harry shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."
"What is wrong with you? You've been living the same day over and over again and you haven't noticed? You stayed at home? You travelled? It hasn't driven you crazy?"
"Um, no?" He inclined his head in Percy's direction. "Though it seems to have done something to you."
Percy merely made a series indistinct choking sounds in response. Harry continued.
"So you, what? Have been shagging everyone you could this whole time? Really?"
Percy ruffled like an affronted mother hen. "Is that so hard to believe?"
"For you? Kind of."
"I'll have you know that you it's not just internationally lauded heroes that are entitled to a healthy sex life. Stuffy Minister's assistants enjoy a bit of shagging, too."
"I know that, it's just... you never seemed to me like the sex-crazed, promiscuous kind. And you are… well, with them in there, you really did have a, um, gangbang, yeah?"
"It was more like a fuckfest, really," Percy corrected him. "Gangbang implies a lack of consent on my part. When, clearly, I orchestrated the whole thing." Jesus Christ, Percy. He flushed red. It was one thing doing all this and being accountable to no one, but Harry wasn't exactly going to forget this the next day. Or ever. He was mortified, spread open and naked in front of Harry Potter, figuratively speaking.
"That's…" Harry looked uncertain. "Well, you surprise me is all."
Percy was agog. How could Harry be so bloody calm about all this, when Percy had been going round the twist? He tried to keep himself from exploding. It didn't work.
"Why? My whole life—everything—was determined by routine, goals. There was a natural order to things – work hard, earn your dividends. But then this happened, and everything no longer had a point. Who cares how much work you do, if it's never going to come of anything? Frankly, the only thing that made me seem so boring to people like you, was a set of social constructs I'd been taught to uphold, and fear. Killing myself didn't work, so I just thought 'fuck it.' And so I did everything I was always afraid to do," Percy finished, throwing Harry a look of disbelief, "I can't believe you haven't."
"I'm just waiting for all this to end."
"What if it doesn't?"
"I wish I shared your sense of optimism," Percy answered grimly, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"You always were a bloody idiot about these things."
"Fuck off," Percy bit back, sneering.
Harry looked surprised, and Percy had to remind himself for the tenth time in the last two minutes that there were going to be consequences for his actions again. Fuck.
And, as if on cue, a moan reverberated in the small space as Goldstein, presumably, came in the connecting loo. Both Harry and Percy wrinkled their noses in disgust, Percy because, eww heterosexual sex and Harry because, well… Percy presumed because he was a prude. He snorted at the thought – who would have thought in all this that Harry Potter would turn out the prude and Percy would be the nasty freak? It was funny what an extreme situation could bring out in a person. And he imagined he must seem like a total anomaly to someone who hadn't seen him in two years whilst this… thing was happening. He started to apologise.
"Sorry, I kind of lack a filter any more. I'm so used to saying and doing anything I want and nothing happening."
Harry studied him a minute. "I understand. Kind of."
There was a commotion at the door.
"Oi! Tossers! Open the bloody door. Smith's going to puke and I have to piss!"
It was Davies, presumably with the whole gang in tow. Harry gave Percy one more searching look, though whether or not he found what he was looking for, Percy didn't know. He looked away after a moment, flicked his wand and the four randy Aurors came tumbling inside, falling all over themselves.
Smith pushed past the other three and flew to the nearest stall, retching into the toilet, while Davies made a beeline for a urinal. Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley leaned against each other by the door, Macmillan eying Percy and Harry warily.
"You two getting up to… sex stuff in 'ere? Filthy queers…" he muttered, trying his best to look disgusted. Percy snorted. Of the four of them, Macmillan had been the most enthusiastic about sucking Percy's cock. It was always the closeted ones who were the most vehemently homophobic.
Harry, Percy noticed, had gone red and now looked ready to throttle Ernie. Maybe because he, too, knew perfectly well what a hypocrite he was being.
"You wish, Macmillan," Percy laughed, moving towards the door. "Just discussing some official Ministry business. Above your pay grade and all."
Macmillan attempted a sneer, but it came out looking all wobbly and more like he was going to be sick than angry. His rushing over to the other toilet a moment later didn't help.
"Gentlemen – I'll see you tomorrow." Percy looked at Harry warily as he said it. It had been a long time since that statement had been true.
Percy woke the next day unsure of what to do. The jig was up, he wasn't alone anymore, and he could hardly go back to shagging around with Harry… watching. But he was still stuck, so that left him, once again, with nothing to do.
So he went to work as usual. He made himself a coffee, got behind his desk – boy, did it feel weird to sit behind the old girl again – and waited. Waited for something to happen. For something to do. Because he sure as hell was never again wasting him time on reports that would never be filed or read or remembered.
A clock ticked idly in the background, and Kingsley shuffled some papers from within his office. Percy couldn't help remembering all the stuff they'd got up to – what was it now? A year ago? A year ago to him, nothing to everyone else.
He thought about Draco Malfoy, who was probably stepping into the lift just now, heading down to Accounts Payable, grumbling to himself about his lot in life. Percy's cock throbbed from a phantom blow job of a long time ago.
He thought about the blokes in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, discussing last night's match and how it would effect their Fantasy League standings, instead of working on arrangements for the Quidditch Regionals. An image of being sandwiched between two eager young boys flashed in Percy's head. His trousers grew tight in the crotch.
He thought about Terry Boot, who was probably sat behind his desk, as Percy was, daydreaming about some bloke's arse instead of his girlfriend's. They all did the same thing every day, because it was still the same bloody day.
Everyone except for Percy and Harry Potter.
Harry. He wondered if Harry had bothered to come in at all. Last night, he'd said he had taken up travelling. Why the hell hadn't Percy thought of that? The only travelling he'd done this entire time was that which brought him closer to a conquest. Finland for Krum, Romania for Charlie, assorted other European countries for the Quidditch players.
Harry had probably seen the world by now – Russia, China, America, Australia, Brazil, South Africa… South Africa must be ace – Percy had always wanted to go there. Perhaps he and Harry could pop on down there together. Not that Harry would want to go with him. Where he surely once had thought Percy was a boring old tosser with a mighty stick up his arse, he probably now thought of him as a complete nutter who liked having other men's cocks stuck up his arse. Percy wasn't sure which was better.
A cough from the doorway snapped Percy out of his thoughts. He looked up to find Harry standing there, leaning against the doorframe. His insides twisted up in what Percy belatedly realised was apprehension – something he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Morning," Harry said cordially. "Surprised to see you here."
"Yeah. Thought you said work was pointless. I reckoned you'd be off shagging someone, or something."
"Then why'd you come looking for me here?"
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Thought it would be worth a try." He tapped his foot and took in Percy's surroundings. "Last time I was here, you weren't. Kingsley said you must be sick or something. I hadn't even thought-" He shook his head. "Un-bloody-believable."
"When was that?" Percy asked.
"Dunno – a year ago? Year and a half? Back when I was still trying to solve this thing. But no matter how many times I explained it to Kingsley, or Hermione, or the Auror team, they never had any answers and they never remembered the next day. Though Hermione did try to get in some research, once I'd convinced her I wasn't completely insane."
"You think it's Dark magic?"
"What else would it be?" Harry seemed genuinely puzzled that he could think otherwise.
"An evil twist of fate? Karma?"
Harry frowned, then seemed to study him a minute, thoughtful.
"You really tried to kill yourself?"
Percy nodded. "Yep. Many times. Always woke up the next day, cosy in my bed like every day before it. After that, I got kind of… reckless."
A sudden grunt of a laugh escaped Harry's lips, and he ambled forward, falling into a chair and shifting gears.
"I'll say! Aren't you afraid it'll end suddenly and this lot will remember everything you did?"
"Nope. At this point, I'm pretty sure I'll stay like this until I die of old age. If I can die of old age. I can't even tell if I'm ageing, or if I'm stuck in… stasis. Doomed for eternity, young but alone."
Harry eyed him in both amusement and abject horror. "How is it that you and I've taken things so differently? I wouldn't have expected…" He gestured at Percy. "This." Waiting a beat, he added, "And you're not alone. If we're stuck for eternity, we're stuck with each other."
Percy was at a loss for words. Was Harry offering… companionship? His statement certainly sounded… loaded. Squirming uncomfortably in his seat -- why was his cock on bloody auto-pilot? – he smiled wanly.
"So!" Harry jumped up. "What do you think about skiving off, and going to the cinema with me? There's this great film playing at the Vue in Leicester Square – no one's really at the 1 p.m. showing, and I haven't seen it in a few months. And there's a really fit American bloke in it, if you need that kind of incentive…"
"Hey! I am not some sex obsessed cretin!"
Harry's look said Oh, really?. Percy rolled his eyes.
"Fine, let's go."
Days 630 through 720
The film, as it turned out, really wasn't half bad, and over the next few weeks, Harry made sure Percy saw every other half-decent cinema offering, after which they moved on to the theatre. They went to a multitude of London restaurants, including incredibly posh places Percy wouldn't have dared set foot in it he hadn't known he had a never-ending (or daily replenishing, more like) supply of money and a ready dinner companion. Percy had always been pretty clueless about Muggle culture, despite his dad's obsession with it, and he was surprised to find he quite enjoyed it. Perhaps this would have been a good use of his time instead of all the sex.
Though, no, he really had enjoyed the sex. But he didn't miss it now, spending every day with Harry that, a realisation crept up on him. It was like they were… dating.
Percy shook the thought off.
Harry never asked about Percy's sexual exploits over the past two years. They shared many long conversations about what it felt like to die, and which was worse – being dead, or being alone, forever, but the sex never came up.
Now that he had someone else to, for lack of a better word, play with, Percy spent much of his unlimited time taking Harry in. While it may have seemed like Percy had been the one to go off the deep-end in this whole situation, careful study of Harry revealed that he wasn't coping as well as he purported to be. Percy could see the cracks, where he had been a hair's breadth from the edge of despair, if the way he was throwing himself into his friendship with Percy was anything to go by. Only someone terrified of being alone could be so eager.
And Harry never drank anything more than a measure of alcohol – one beer, one shot, one glass of wine. Never more. Percy wondered why, but with his tact and inhibitions slowly settling back into place, he decided it was best not to ask.
Harry had had his one glass of wine at dinner that night, and now they were back at Percy's flat. Would that he were bringing him back here for a shag, but, alas – Harry didn't seem interested, despite their spending the better part of three months together. Percy hadn't had sex in that time, hardly that long a period compared to the year long lengths of time he had been celibate before the time loop, but after a year straight of daily shagging, it was excruciating. And it didn't help that, were Percy to make another list, Harry would be at the top of it.
No, Harry would be the only one on it, more like.
Percy knew it was him desperately clinging to the only other person caught up in this existence, but he couldn't help it.
The object for tonight was an experiment. It had been Harry's idea – they would both stay awake all night, to see whether being awake at the moment the clock reset itself would do anything, or at least to see what it felt like.
"What do you think will happen?" Percy asked, leaving Harry sitting on the couch in the living room whilst he went into the kitchen to make them both a coffee.
"Dunno. Maybe we'll feel something like it feels like Apparition. Maybe we'll break the cycle."
"I've tried to stay up before, but I never made it," Percy said, pouring the boiling water into two cups, the instant granules turning the water a dark brown. He carried the steaming mugs into the living room, where Harry sat on the couch, thumbing through an old (or recent, depending on how you looked at it) copy of The Quibbler.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a Quibbler reader."
Percy shrugged, placing Harry's mug in front of him. "Mum got me that subscription. Thought I needed some lighter reading around the flat."
"Hmmm," Harry hummed, immediately picking up his coffee and bringing it to his lips. He hissed, and then placed it back down on the table. "No coaster?" he asked, eyebrow precariously raised.
Grinning, Percy replied, "I live on the edge now," and Harry snorted with laughter. Percy sat in the facing armchair and blew on his own coffee to cool it down enough to drink. No use having a burnt tongue for the next six hours.
Harry's laughter faded to a knowing smirk. "So, why sex, then? And who exactly did you sleep with?"
Percy's heart began thumping violently in his chest, and he took a hurried sip of coffee, scalding be damned. "I thought we didn't talk about that," Percy mumbled around the rim of his mug.
"We haven't, but… I'm curious, is all."
"It was no big deal. There were… just a few, you know. Nothing to write home about."
"So you just started on gangbangs, then?"
"I told you, it wasn't a gangbang, more of a-"
"Fuckfest, yeah, I know. How many?"
"I—" Percy started, taking a fortifying slug of coffee and grimacing. It was missing something. "I need a lot more alcohol if I'm going to talk about this," he concluded, finally.
"I'll join you," came the reply.
If Harry noticed Percy's surprised expression, he ignored it. He merely grinned up at Percy as he got up to go to the liquor cabinet and said, "Whatever you think goes best with coffee to start, eh?"
The last person Percy had expected to be sharing his bottle of Ogden's with was Harry. But here it was, coming in handy, again, as they toasted London, the Ministry, life and the same fucking Thursday over and over again.
And the reason Harry didn't drink, apparently, is that he devolved rather quickly into a giggling, sex-obsessed bundle of curiosity. And the topic of the evening was 'people Percy had had sex with, how many times and whether or not they were any good.'
"Who was the biggest you had?" Harry hiccoughed, idly swirling his Firewhisky round and round at the bottom of his glass. Percy's eyes caught on the undulating rush of amber liquid and he stared, transfixed for a moment. He shouldn't be telling Harry anything, but the alcohol had gone to his head, and quickly.
"You sure you want to know?"
"Yes!" Harry stopped his hand's movement and the Firewhisky came to a halt, snapping Percy out of his daze. "Who?"
Percy blinked, took a heavy drink of his glass and said as he gulped it down, "Snape."
"Ugh! That's… disgusting!"
"Told you," Percy gasped, the alcohol leading a burning trail down his esophagus.
"The smallest?" Harry pressed on, and Percy gave up on the idea that he would keep mum about everything. Really, he'd been dying to share this information with someone, so why not Harry?
"Terry Boot. Just… unfortunate. No wonder he fakes it with Susan."
"Don’t be mean," Harry chided, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth belied his true amusement.
Percy shrugged. "S's true."
"Okay… the worst?"
Harry doubled over in a fit of giggles. Percy took him in, cheeks and lips flushed a deep scarlet, eyes both glassy and bright at the same time. He was gorgeous, and Percy felt his own cheeks heat.
Clearing his throat, Percy laughed stiffly, adding, "No technique, that one."
Harry completely missed the awkwardness of Percy's tone and merely shot him a self-satisfied grin and moved on. "The best?"
"That… I can't say. Everyone was different."
"Okay… the kinkiest."
Percy took a deep breath, followed by another slug of whiskey before revealing his answer. "Charlie. Definitely."
Harry nearly fell over, though it wasn't exactly that hard, considering they'd finished nearly half the bottle, plus a snifter of brandy, earlier. "Wait… Charlie? Please tell me you don't mean…"
"I'm afraid I do." Percy gulped down another burning shot.
"I went crazy! I told you!"
Oh, God, now he'd really done it. Harry thought he was a total pervert. He knew he shouldn't have said anything, no one was going to understand--
"That's really awful," continued Harry, driving the final nail into Percy's coffin. "Though…"
Or not. Percy perked up, just slightly.
"I always fancied him."
Inside, Percy jumped for joy, but he managed to contain himself outwardly, and merely raised an eyebrow at Harry.
"You could go visit him, you know. He's up for it, trust me. If I could get him into bed with just a bottle of Ogden's, I don't think you'd have any problem, and could probably do it with him sober."
"Oh, no, I—" Harry flushed redder, if that was possible. "That's not a good idea," he finished, eyes darting over to Percy's bookshelves, which he suddenly found fascinating, apparently.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I keep forgetting… I know that you're not… that way."
Okay, he didn't actually know that, and some logical part of his brain was trying to tell him something important, he was sure, but it sounded like the right thing to say.
"Uh, huh," mumbled Harry, finishing off his glass of whisky with one gulp and pouring himself another one. "So, um…" He fiddled with the cap of the Ogden's bottle, refusing to meet Percy's eyes as he asked, "was there anyone you were with that you were tempted to stay with? You know, to go back to day after day?"
Percy tried to think, though the alcohol was severely impairing his brain function, and names were failing him. All he could think to say was 'yes, you,' but that didn't really answer the question, given that Harry wasn't an option. For one, they hadn't slept together, and two, it was hardly a question of temptation. Percy was already there, spending every day with Harry, and, for the first time finding himself rather happy with the notion that this would go on forever, every day; Thursday with Harry, over and over again. He finished off his own drink.
"Nope, no one," he said, resolutely smacking his empty glass down on the table.
He couldn't tell whether Harry looked relieved or disappointed.
The experiment failed. One minute it was gone five, Harry and Percy lounging on Percy's bed, discussing the merits of their respective Fantasy Quidditch League teams, and the next Percy was waking up, alone, at the start of the same bloody Thursday. He hadn't even remembered nodding off. Perhaps the alcohol had been a bad idea…
Alcohol. What had they talked about? Oh, Jesus, Percy had regaled Harry with nearly every detail of his sexual exploits. Percy groaned as he fixed himself his morning tea, adding a second tea bag for good measure, and decided that perhaps was a day to skip work. He wasn't hung over, since his physical body always reset itself at the start of each day, yet he felt like crap, given he was sure Harry would want nothing to do with him today. It was one thing to think that Percy was a slut, but quite another to know it, backed up with names and details and, dear God, numbers.
And wasn't there something Harry had said, something that Percy was supposed to remember? He sat at his kitchen table, searching his mind for the answer. It was before they'd moved to his bedroom, he was sure, and Percy distinctly remembered feeling embarrassed, and then thinking something Harry had said was odd.
Was it about… Charlie? Charlie, Charlie… Harry fancied Charlie!
Wait. Harry fancied Charlie.
Harry fancied men? How did Percy miss this? Was last night… was Harry trying to start something? Did Percy totally miss an opportunity to have sex? Or, wait, was Harry saying he liked men but not Percy? Percy was confused.
Glancing over at the clock, Percy wondered if it was too early to start drinking.
His tea had long gone cold, left abandoned on the kitchen table, and Percy; well, Percy was in his bedroom, wanking. He'd never been particularly over-zealous in the self-love department before, but since getting used to daily shags, he'd found himself needing two or three wanks a day to keep himself from running out, finding the nearest man and begging to be fucked up against a wall. And just the thought that Harry liked men, the image of Charlie fucking Harry, of Percy fucking Harry… well, his morning tea had become a moot point.
He was in his bedroom now, on his bed, leaning back on his haunches, stroking his proudly jutting cock to hardness. On the upstroke, he swirled his thumb around the sensitive head of his cock, biting his lower lip to stifle his groan. It was funny how a little interaction with Harry had brought Percy back to his old, conservative ways. Percy chuckled and corrected himself, now moaning liberally as he slid his foreskin up and down, then squirted a healthy dollop of lube onto the fore and middle fingers of his other hand. Switching to a lazy stroke on his cock, he leaned forward and probed at his arse with his fingers.
He grunted as his one finger pushed through, bracing through the momentary pain, then broke into a grin as, with a bit of manoeuvring, he sparked against his prostate. His efforts were cut short, however, by a loud rapping at his front door.
"Bugger!" he exclaimed, stopping his fingers mid-thrust, dropping his hand from his cock. He winced as he pulled his fingers from his arse, then crudely wiped them on the bedspread. Hopping up as the rapping continued, he summoned his dressing gown and slipped it on. Percy swung the door open, determined to be as miserable as possible to whomever was disturbing him.
It was Harry, of course, and he greeted him with an awkward smile, as he looked Percy up and down and took in his appearance.
"Sorry that I, err, disturbed you. Showering?" Even though he said it, his expression – and the flush to his cheeks – expressed his doubt. Percy realised he was probably flushed and sweaty, and likely smelled like sex. Harry coughed, not-so-subtly trying to peer past Percy into the flat. "Or…with someone?"
"Oh! No. No, it's just me. I wasn't expecting you… or anyone. Come in?"
Percy wiped his hands instinctively against the soft material of his robe, realising belatedly that he was still hard, and checked on the sly as Harry stepped through the doorway that he wasn't poking through. Thankfully, he wasn't.
"You didn't think I was coming?" Harry said as he removed his coat and dropped it over the back of a chair. "We go out every day."
"Yes, I realise." Percy ran his fingers through his hair nervously, then tightened the tie of his robe compulsively, willing his erection to go down. "But after last night, thought you might want to sleep it off."
"We don't get hung over, Percy." Harry's tone was light, but sceptical.
"Do you want some tea?" Percy changed the subject.
"No, I'm fine." Harry plopped down on the couch and picked up the same old copy of The Quibbler, thumbing through it. "So… fancy going to the cinema? Something else? We could go to Germany again, grab a beer."
"I'm not really up for travel today," Percy answered honestly. He really wanted to finish his wank, and as lovely as it was having Harry here, he only served as a painful reminder of why Percy was hard in the first place, and not going down in the slightest. He arranged himself carefully in the armchair, crossing one leg over the other and patting down the fabric to hide his jutting cock.
After rifling through the magazine for another minute, Harry gave up, dropping it down on the table and turning to Percy, a determined expression on his face.
"Percy, were you wanking?"
"I… would prefer not to answer that," Percy stuttered, flushing.
"It's totally okay if you were! I just was wondering, is all."
"I…" Percy drifted off, mentally weighing the pros and cons of being honest. All blokes wanked, and it was rather obvious... He cleared his throat. "All right; yes. Yes, I was."
"Oh. Okay. I should, um, go then." Harry moved to get up, but Percy reached over and touched his arm gently, stopping him.
"No, stay. I can go get changed. The cinema sounds fine."
Percy smiled, trying to catch Harry's eye, but saw that it was focused elsewhere. At his crotch, specifically. Percy looked down and saw that the flaps of his robes had fallen apart, and there was his cock, straining happily in Harry's direction.
"Oh, dear!" Percy jerked back, covering himself hastily. Harry looked away. "I am so sorry, Harry," Percy apologised, cursing inwardly. He received just a curt nod in return, as Harry stared at a fixed point on the wall, but not at him. Percy eventually thought to look down, and saw the problem. Harry had an erection, as well.
"Um, Harry?" Percy began uncertainly. "Are you… gay?"
A laugh escaped Percy's chest before he could stop himself, and Harry's eyes flew open, a look of abject horror and hurt on his face.
"Sorry! I'm not laughing at you, Harry," Percy rushed to reassure him. "Just… we've been stuck here together this whole time, and you're gay and you're hard right now, after seeing me… and I, just… it's kind of hilarious. And I may or may not be crazy. So." Percy laughed some more.
Now Harry was looking at him as if he was crazy.
"I fancy you, you idiot!" Percy blurted out, another giggle bubbling up, as he realised that it absolutely terrified him to admit it, while feeling wholly liberating at the same time. Harry appeared taken aback, flabbergasted by his admission, and Percy thought he looked adorable.
"Yes! Obviously. How could I not? You're… Merlin, Harry. Everyone wants to shag you. Had I known you were so inclined, I wouldn't have bothered with anyone else."
"You would give up all the sex you've had? Really?"
"Well, okay, no. Some of it was really fun. Especially Kingsley. And Oliver. Well, and the professors. Role play is more fun than you'd think, and--" Percy cut himself off as Harry sent him a scathing look. Percy smiled and switched tacks. "But having someone around all this time who would wake up the next morning and remember everything we'd done the day before? I would have given anything for that, some days. It's why I'm so glad you're here now. It got pretty lonely, even when I was with people every day."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I was nearing the end of my tether, before. I thought I had finally cracked up and was hallucinating, when I saw you getting my team drunk and begging them to fuck you. It was very… surreal."
"Yeah… it was like one of my porn videos come to life. And that it was you doing it…"
"That's still very embarrassing, you know. I would never have done any of the things I did if I'd known anyone would remember."
"I still think you're barmy for taking that risk. This could end at any time! What would you have done if things just started back up again, right after your night with my team?"
"Quit my job and moved to a foreign country?"
Harry laughed. "Sounds like a plan. Though do you speak any other languages? I imagine it would be hard to move to, say, China or something."
"I know a few key phrases in German, Bulgarian and Russian."
"Oh? Like what?"
Percy replied without thinking. "Fick mich."
"Um, don’t ask." Percy blushed – he really shouldn't have said that, even if Harry didn't know what it mean.
"No – what does it mean?"
"Fuck me," Percy mumbled.
"I…" Harry seemed at a loss for words, then finally he said, "Okay."
"Okay. I'll, um, do that."
"Oh! I didn't mean it as an invitation or anything."
"Oh," Harry said in a small, wounded voice.
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that!" Percy backtracked. "It was just something Viktor Krum taught me, and it popped in my mind, but, I mean, I really would like that, especially if you'd like to… and, um, yeah." Percy gave up trying to put things into logical strings of words, because Harry was looking increasingly confused. So he leaned forward, grabbing hold of Harry's shirt and pulling him close. Their glasses clacked together, as did their teeth, but it was the thought that counted, and Percy thought the message got across rather well as Harry kissed him back.
Then Harry moaned, gathering up two handfuls of Percy's dressing gown in his hands and yanking Percy across the space between their two chairs, and he ended up sprawled inelegantly across Harry, half on, half off the couch. Harry, displaying a surprising amount of upper body strength, heaved Percy up until they were lying back against the cushions, rubbing against each other, kissing all the while. Jesus, Harry moved fast. Which got Percy thinking. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Harry, bracing himself on his elbows and peering down.
"Harry -- have you done this before? With men, I mean?"
"Um, yeah." Harry flushed a bright red. "I got drunk back at the start of this, and kind of slept with Ernie. It was the first clue that I was into men, really. And that I should never drink that much."
"Ha! That's why you don’t drink. I'd wondered…"
"Yeah. I didn't trust myself. I don't trust myself, still. Last night, it was so hard not too…" Harry trailed off, his eyes wandering down to Percy's cock, which lay trapped between their two stomachs. The fingers of one hand twitched as Harry, perhaps subconsciously, reached for it. Percy closed the distance, grabbing Harry's hand and placing it on his cock, causing them both to draw in hitched breaths.
"I wish you had, last night," Percy moaned as Harry experimented with a quick jerking movement. "I wanted you to, but I wasn't sure… didn't want to screw this up."
"Me neither. But to hear all about all the men you were with… God, that got me hot. I'd been avoiding even thinking about you with other men, but that was just it. I had to come over today, had to ask if you were interested…"
"I can tell." Harry gave Percy's cock a particularly sharp tug, and Percy hissed.
"God, want to fuck now," Percy said through gritted teeth, swivelling his hips purposefully to grind down on Harry's erection.
"Did you always have such a dirty mouth, or was it all the sex that did it?" Harry asked, breath hitching.
"Always thought this stuff, never said it out loud before."
"That's… just…" Harry trailed off, then threw his head back as Percy sped up the rhythm of his hips and they frotted against each other. "Please, let's go… do it. Else I'm gonna come soon."
"That's all right – we have all day. And every day after that," Percy chuckled.
"No, really – now, please."
Harry was so cute, looking up at Percy beseechingly, and Percy reluctantly gave in, plucking his wand up from the coffee table and summoning lube from his bedroom, then removing both his and Harry's glasses and placing them on top of a stack of Quibblers.
"I'm, um, already kind of prepared," Percy said, "so maybe I should bottom? Is that okay?" Percy let his dressing gown fall from his shoulders, tossing it on to the floor. Harry nodded vigorously, already scooching himself up and back a bit so they were more comfortably positioned on the couch.
Percy moved so he was straddling Harry, the tip of Harry's cock now resting against Percy's tailbone. Pretty much picking up where he was before Harry had showed up, Percy probed at his arsehole with two lubed fingers, sighing as they slowly sank inside. It was a perfunctory manoeuvre, however, and in the next minute, he withdrew his fingers, reaching behind him to grab Harry's cock and position it at his entrance. Harry let out a strangled gasp as Percy slowly lowered himself down, inch by inch.
Percy could feel his body's resistance; it had been so long since he'd done this. Harry certainly seemed to enjoy how tight Percy was, and with a sudden, jerky spasm of Harry's hips, Percy was completely impaled. With a great 'oof,' he expelled all the air in his lungs, flopping like a ragdoll down over Harry's chest.
"Oh, Christ – I'm so sorry!" Harry made haste to pull out, but Percy gripped his sides and ground down with his hips, stopping him.
"No, no, it's okay. Go ahead – I'm fine," Percy reassured him, catching his breath.
And he was. Once Harry got over the idea that Percy wasn't going to break – a gentle reminder that he'd slept his way through the entire Quidditch League helped – he dropped the shy violet routine and began fucking Percy in earnest. Now, Percy had meant it when he said he couldn't pick any one sex partner he'd had as the "best," but all things considered, Harry being someone in whom he was emotionally invested, had wanted for months now and seemed so… off limits in so many ways, Harry was, by far, the best shag Percy had ever had.
They spent the rest of the day, into the evening, shagging in every position and location imaginable, of course. And while Harry was certainly never going to top being, well, Percy's brother in terms of kink factor, he was shaping up to be the second kinkiest person Percy had ever or would ever sleep with. Percy began to look forward to an eternity of same-Thursdays trying everything out with Harry, who certainly seemed game, if trying to get Percy to fuck five times in a row was any hint. When Percy tried to explain that he was four years older, one hell of a lot closer to thirty than he was, and therefore was simply not up for it, Harry scoffed at him, dropped right to his knees and proceeded to do the naughtiest thing with his tongue to Percy's arse. Best shag, indeed.
Someone was snoring. Percy rolled over, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and trying to block out the sound with the other. This was why he never did so well with the relationship and sharing space thing – nothing irked Percy more than incongruous sleeping habits. Especially snoring. Which really was--
Wait a second. There was someone snoring. In Percy's bed. In the morning. After last night. He had awoken every day for the last two years by himself, because he had awoken by himself on the first morning of the time loop, which had to mean…
"HARRY! WAKE UP." Percy bolted upright, shaking him.
"Nnnnnghhhh," was all Harry managed.
"No, seriously, Harry. Wake. Up. Now." Percy moved from shaking to outright poking, a fierce jab to Harry's sternum sending the other man spluttering awake.
"Fuck, Percy, WHAT?!"
"Harry – it's tomorrow."
"What? Of course it's tomorrow, like it is every day— wait, what?" Harry seemed to register the whole 'waking up with another person' angle. "Tomorrow? As in tomorrow tomorrow?"
"YES. So get up! We have to make sure, but I think we're free. I think we broke the time loop!"
"By having sex?"
Harry blinked myopically at him, and they both almost simultaneously reached for their glasses. Percy put his on, and saw Harry's bemused expression.
"Well, I suppose so, yes." Percy shrugged.
"So you're telling me, that all this time, all I had to do was shag you, and this whole thing would have been over?" Harry barely made it through his sentence before he was snorting with laughter, and Percy couldn't help but join him.
"Gay sex as Dark magic fighter. They should put that in a textbook, they should. You could write it."
"Yes!" Harry grinned. "I'll call it 'How I Broke a Dark Time Loop Curse by Having Gay Sex with Percy Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to the Minster of Magic."
"That's a very long title," Percy observed mock-sagely.
"Yes, well, had to include your title. Very important. Not to be forgotten."
"You know, I think you've finally gone crazy."
"I know… isn't it brilliant?"
The Daily Prophet told that it was, indeed, finally Friday. Percy and Harry reached a mutual decision to skive off work, and spend the entire forthcoming weekend shagging their brains out. After all, the world had gone 728 same-Thursdays without them, another few days would hardly matter.
When Harry Potter and Percy Weasley walked into work Monday morning holding hands, it caused a few raised eyebrows, and certainly set off the gossip chain, but nothing more than that. Most just assumed that Harry's interest in Ginny had been misplaced lust for the male Weasleys, and Percy being the only gay one of the bunch ended up the lucky guy. Or, at least, that's the story the Witch Weekly ran with.
Percy had a long discussion with Kingsley, and made sure Draco Malfoy got his promotion. Every time they met in the lift, thereafter, Draco set him with a suspicious, questioning look, but Percy always just smiled, causally mentioned the weather or, occasionally, when he was feeling particularly naughty, how he'd just love to get back to his office and suck on an ice lolly. Draco usually turned purple, and shuffled awkwardly back to his new office in Department of International Magical Cooperation.
Harry set up Terry Boot and Ernie Macmillan, much to the initial consternation of both, but soon they both came out of their respective closets, and even invited Susan Bones to watch.
The Quidditch season went fantastically, and Percy found himself at the top of the Fantasy Quidditch League yet again. As a thank you to Oliver for another win, Percy paid him a visit, this time bringing along Harry, who checked off more than a few of his own fantasies. He had one about the Quidditch showers, as well, it seemed.