Fic: Sexetera, Ad infinitum, Percy/Harry+Percy/others, NC-17
Why is it I only use this journal for fic? FAILZ

GAH! I will post this fic if it kills me (WTF procrastination?). HERE I AM POSTING THIS. Very proud of this fic, though it wouldn't seem so given the time lag (LOL busy with worldcup!). It's been in the works for a year now, though I didn't write the bulk of it until SOME CRAZY PERSON (*violet_quillcough*)talked me into writing for Valensmut. I protested, but in vain! :D Not gonna lie I WOULD LIKE IT IF PEOPLE READ THIS :P :P :P

Title: Sexetera, Ad infinitum
Author: NQDonne
Pairing(s): Percy/Harry, with minor implied pairings, including Percy/Kingsley, Percy/Draco, Percy/Oliver, Percy/Remus, Percy/Snape, Percy/Charlie, Percy/others
Summary: There's loving routine, and there's being stuck repeating the same one over and over for eternity.
Warning(s): AU. People are alive and well who didn't quite make it out of book seven. Because Percy needs to sleep with them, obviously. Kinks include (both graphic and implied) blow jobs, gangbang, dirty talk, wanking, incest, threesomes. Borderline crack; hopefully doesn't bastardise canon too badly!
Word Count: 11,600
Disclaimer: JKR owns HP, the writers of the film Groundhog Day own that concept.
Notes: Written for hpvalensmut 2008. Dedicated to my dedicated beta readers – for furiosity, who helped me figure out at the eleventh hour why the pacing was off, and how to fix it; for lesyeuxverts00, who was my sounding board when I wasn't sure how things were working; for kriken for putting up with my excessive Percy squee for months; for blamebrampton who caught my its/it's errors and didn't judge me for them; and finally for violet_quill, who gave me the opportunity to finish this, and for holding my hand throughout.


Days 1 through 58

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.


Day 203

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.


Day 216

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.


Day 217

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.


Day 246

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.

"Malfoy!"

"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?"

"A promotion."

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."

"Fuck you!"

"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."


Day 265

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.


Day 295

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.

"Um, yes?"

Fantasy number 235, checked off the list, then.


Day 385

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.


Day 403

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."


Day 570

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.


Day 618

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.


Day 626

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.


Day 627

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?"


Day 628

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?"

"It will."

"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.

PART TWO