Idyllic Days
by Sing To Angels

Percy Weasley considered himself a man who had seen the error of his ways.

He lived a quiet life with his family, which he had once tossed aside in favour of power, pride, and Galleons, and was currently the only thing keeping him from fully embracing the madness of the Ministry, post-Voldemort. Or perhaps they weren't the only thing.

Lucius Malfoy, the man who had slithered his way out of a sentence at Azkaban more times than Percy could count, had hired him on as a private secretary several months ago. It was dull work, but it gave him the opportunity to know just a little more about the world of rich, powerful, and proper purebloods as opposed to those who would always be deemed 'blood traitors'.

Percy sniffed derisively, still not quite sure what his own thoughts on the matter were, and hunched over his desk, his quill scratching away. Mr Malfoy had been most generous so far; even allowing him time for personal correspondence and obligations when all other work was at a standstill. The wages were above fair, the atmosphere airy, bright, and conducive to long hours taking dictation or keeping his employer's account books in order.

He considered Mr Malfoy - despite his family's view - to be a man of the world, worthy of study and imitation. Perhaps no one could ever hope to duplicate the subtle grace Mr Malfoy used for the simplest of things . . . Percy looked up from his parchment and watched him pace the room, turning with a precise rotation of his heel to come back, his informal blue half-cape flaring out behind him.

Percy's fingers slipped on the desk and the parchment crackled, calling his attention back to dictation. Mr Malfoy's rich timbre flowed over his conscious mind like liquid amber, and Percy almost smiled at the pleasant tingling of his spine. No, no one could hope to emulate this man.

His hand writ almost of its own accord, as if it were not attached to his body or mind. The quill tickled his temple each time he brought it round to finish the loop of a lower case letter, distracting him, but he pressed on.

Mr Malfoy paused to gather his thoughts, and Percy took the opportunity to glance out the window on his right. There was a river on the south side of the Malfoy estate he particularly liked, cutting a shiny swath through golden fields of wheat and softly swaying barley. The river's glittering crests and eddies caught Percy's gaze and he couldn't look away, it was strong and swift, mesmerising as only Lu--

"Mr Weasley?"

Percy jerked his head away from the window with a start. "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy. Just, mmn, wool-gathering, I suppose."

Tiny lines crinkled Mr Malfoy's eyes, and he smiled reassuringly. "Not boring you today, I hope."

"Oh no!" Percy insisted, readying his quill for more transcription. "You could never do that. Continue please."

Mr Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but a bang down the hall rudely disturbed him. He frowned at the noise and the doors to his private study were flung open. Draco strode into the room as if he already owned everything inside, a conceited twist marring his lips.

"Hello, Father." Draco plopped into a chair and threw his legs over the side.

Percy could tell that his employer was less than pleased with his son's behaviour, but he said nothing of it.

"Draco," Mr Malfoy acknowledged coolly, his eyes tight with disapproval. "Can I help you with something?"

Draco smiled smugly at his father, not sparing a glance for Percy at all. "Just came for an advance on my allowance. I've run out of funds and I plan on taking Catherine to Paris to propose to her."

A frown disfigured the porcelain perfection of Mr Malfoy's brow, but it didn't carry over to his voice. "Mr Weasley, if you wouldn't mind taking tea early today . . . ?"

Percy stood hastily and nodded, gathering scraps of parchment covered in sand together and stacking them on his arm. "Not at all, sir. I'll, um, be in the drawing room if you need me back before the hour."

Mr Malfoy waved his dismissal. "I'll find you. Go along, Percy."

He was outside of the study and almost to the drawing room when Percy realised that Mr Malfoy had called him by his given name. A bolt of heady warmth shot to his stomach and slowly seeped to his extremities. His employer was perhaps fond of him, knew him, respected him as a member of his staff. This was good. Better than Crouch, who he slaved and covered for, yet never remembered even his family name; or Fudge's constant snips about upstart Weasleys invading the Ministry, despite Percy's own impeccable record.

Then, it really only mattered so much about his past employers; Percy had never been attracted to Crouch or Fudge.

He slumped in a chair and set his stack of parchment down with uncharacteristic sloppiness as he summoned a house elf for tea. You're not attracted to Mr Malfoy, Percy assured himself. You merely find him beautiful, like a painting or a landscape is beautiful; in a completely detached and unattainable way. A statue on a high pedestal.

Percy sipped slowly at his tea, cradling the bone china in his right hand. He leant back in the comfortable oxblood leather chair and tried to focus on his dictations, what he may have missed, what he would need to clean up later.

When Percy set his cup down, he noticed that he'd left a large ink stain on the porous matte surface. He frowned and pulled out his wand to remove it, but Lu-- Mr Malfoy chose that moment to walk into the room.

His boots made agitated clicks on the oak floor, muffled by the carpet when he drew near Percy. "I apologise, Mr Weasley. My son is quite spoilt, I'm afraid, and I didn't want to subject you to our personal dramas."

Percy nodded and hurriedly grabbed his tea cup again, covering the ink stain as best he could without drawing attention to his actions. "Quite all right, sir," he assured, taking a nervous sip. "It's none of my concern, so there's no need to apologise."

"Mmn," Mr Malfoy grunted. He swept into the chair opposite of Percy and directed the teapot to pour him a cup as well. "I needed a break anyway. I had no idea where to go next in that letter to Fudge."

Percy wrapped his nimble mind around the parchment and the problem, his diplomacy skills neatly picking apart off-hand comments that could give offence. "Perhaps appeal to his greed, sir?" he ventured. "I've noticed that it's the only way to get him to commit on an issue sometimes."

Mr Malfoy sat forward and smiled, his sharp teeth gleaming in the sunlight from an open window. "Yes, I've managed quite a few things in my time by appealing to his baser instincts. How clever of you to notice, Percy."

Percy ducked his head and pretended absorption in the letter he was holding. "T-thank you, sir."

When he looked up, Mr Malfoy was waving his hand dismissively. "You may as well call me Lucius, boy. It's not inappropriate, I assure you."

"Of course," Percy agreed, eyes wide. He splashed tea on the table when he set his cup down, ink stain facing away from his employer's all-seeing eyes.

And Lucius was regarding him most strangely now, a playfulness quirking his lips. "Would you like to accompany me to a . . . party, tonight?"

Percy furrowed his brows and straightened in his chair. "A party?"

Lucius tipped his head and shrugged elegantly. "Not so much a party as an establishment I frequent when I'm bored or frustrated. Good wine, pleasant if slightly worn environment . . . it lifts my spirits."

"I don't know," Percy said slowly and honestly, twitching his robes down over his trouser leg as he lifted it up to rest on his other knee. "I'm generally not one who goes to-- functions and do's. I'll feel out of place."

Lucius' smile was predatory now, his petal-pink lips pulled back from his very white teeth. "I assure you that you will feel anything but out of place, Percy."

"Hmmn." Percy chewed his tongue thoughtfully. What could it hurt, really? Aside from your so far strictly professional relationship with Lucius Malfoy, that is, a small voice hastened to add. "I suppose I could accompany you," he said at last.

Lucius nodded his head sharply and picked up The Daily Prophet from the side table, the matter settled to his liking. "Excellent. I'll expect you dressed an hour after dark."

"All right," Percy agreed, still feeling disconcerted and on edge. He suddenly longed for his desk in the sun with the smooth quills all in a row, ready for him to write; the sound of Mr Malfoy's crisp steps as he made circuits around the room. Instead, there was this-- tension pulling his mind away from steady, reliable things. He could sense that circumstances were about to change drastically in the favour of his daydreams, and he didn't know quite how he felt about that.

"I can hardly wait," Percy murmured, sadly fingering the ink stain on his cup.


As Percy stood naked in the middle of a dimly lit room, he realised that he hadn't been at all prepared to be brought here. The air was smoky and cool, shivering his skin. Percy wrapped his arms around his thin chest and wondered what would happen next.

He'd been shown into the room and told to disrobe, but nothing else. So he stood there, quietly absorbing how the red damask wallpaper was peeling in places, but it would only be noticeable in full light. It had a flavour of former opulence, this room, long since fallen into shabby disrepair that was trying desperately to remain hidden. A lady weeping behind the protective cover of her fan.

"Ah, my straight-laced lambkin," Lucius purred in his ear, suddenly behind him when no one had been there before.

Percy would have turned around, but he was too busy covering the important parts of his anatomy. He settled on slanting his eyes hard to the right. "Mr Malfoy . . ."

"Back to that again, are we?" Lucius said, trailing his soft fingers down Percy's spine.

Percy licked his lips and ravaged the delicate membrane of his cheek with his nervous gnawing. "No. Old habits are hard to break, though."


The disembodied fingers moved further down, tracing the split of his bottom. Percy jerked forward in surprise, but Lucius clamped a hand on his hip and firmly tugged him back. He was fully clothed, Percy noticed. It made him feel vulnerable.

"I discovered a surprising interest in Weasleys here," Lucius said, his breath warming the shell of Percy's ear. "You come in all shapes and sizes, it seems. Tall, short, thin, stout--" His hand snaked around and cupped Percy's testicles, gliding up to stroke his twitching semi-erection to full glory. "Ah, it seems you fall in the last category."

Percy allowed his head to fall back on Lucius' shoulder and dared a glance at him from under heavy eyelids. What did he mean by that? But Lucius seemed intent on his prize, raking his fingers through Percy's pubic hair and up his trembling belly. When Percy glanced back down, his penis was standing proudly erect from his body, the tip weeping tiny glimmering drops on the floor.

"I'm not sure this is what I expected, Lucius."

Lucius tutted his concerns away, spreading his hands out over Percy's chest and playing with the flat, pale nipples there. "I'm sure it was somewhere in the back of that active brain of yours, Percy. I could see it in your eyes." He licked the side of Percy's neck. "The frustration, the shame, the hunger."

Percy concentrated on remaining perfectly still. He did not lift his arms to run his fingers through Lucius' mane of white-gold hair. He did not press his bottom back against the hardness of Lucius' groin. "I feel that this will ruin our professional relationship, sir."

Lucius pinched Percy's nipple hard, twirling the smooth flesh into an erect button. Percy shuddered, but kept standing, even though his legs were trembling, his body craving some sort of release. "I assure you, it will not, Percy." Hands roamed the lightly muscled planes of his stomach again. "The night hides many secrets that daylight will never reveal. We can live in our placid world of quills and sun and tea, yet still revel in the pleasures concealed behind closed doors and smoky rooms." Lucius lazily twirled a finger around the tip of Percy's erection, plucking at the foreskin. "The two never meet in a hazy twilight, they are separated by lines deeply etched in our minds, our very skin."

The heavy, primitive beat of a drum started thumping somewhere in another part of the-- house? Club? Brothel? Percy swallowed against the thrum resonating in his sternum, his skin quivering with each pound as the music moved closer, then away, then closer still.

"Don't be alarmed, Percy," Lucius soothed him with a steady hand, stroking his back again. "It simply means that our night is about to get much more interesting."

It was the sort of thing the twins would say, right before they blew dust in your face that turned your hair bright green. Drawing parallels between Lucius and his brothers was a disturbing thought. Surely they would have no contac-- Weasleys. Surely not them.

Percy turned in Lucius' grasp, his mouth open, to ask him exactly what he had meant a moment ago, but he never got the chance when he caught sight of the man standing in the door.

He was disguised by the shadows, but they only served to draw attention to the outline of his very male form; strong, muscular arms and thighs, his firm chest and belly. Tall and broad with short hair, his sparkling eyes was the only part Percy could see clearly.

"Got the uptight old sod in here, did you, Lucius?"

He recognised that voice. The laughing, watery timbre of it struck him almost a physical blow.

"Ron!" Percy gasped, aware of his own nakedness, and Lucius'. "What- - I mean you shouldn't-- I'm not properly--"

Ron strode forward, his body naked and gleaming with oil in the dull golden lamplight. He raised his hands, palm up, and turned full circle. The impish grin never left his face, and his laugh reverberated in Percy's head. "Do I look like I'm proper, Percy?"

Lucius laughed with him and suddenly Percy was surrounded by rich tawny and oceanic vibrations. He madly fancied that he could pluck them from the air and clothe himself, they were so dense and all encompassing. He couldn't escape from that laughter.

Percy did the only thing he could do, which was drape himself in his dignity and hold his head high. "I believe I'll be leaving now. This was a marvellous joke, but I'm afraid I don't find it funny, thank you very much."

"Eh, still a wordy bugger, aren't you?" Ron commented, squinting at him. "Just like Lucius, really. No wonder he likes you so much."

Frowning, Percy stepped back. "How do you . . . ?"

Lucius rolled his eyes and Ron grinned. "Well, the Ministry sent me to him a year or so ago to learn more about the Dark Arts, since he's now the only approved Master of the subject in Britain." A sly look of acknowledgment between them. "Helpful with my Auror training, all those counter-hexes. I suppose I was an apprentice of sorts and Lucius is . . . very Roman in his method."

"Indeed, my boy." Lucius beamed at his 'student'. "And I must say, you discovered the art quickly, even if there were a few-- disciplinary incidents at first."

Ron rubbed his backside ruefully, reminding Percy of someone who had just been paddled in the schoolroom. "Yeah, well, I learnt my lesson about that right quick."

Percy ignored the screaming voice in his head, the one demanding explanations. "That's all very fascinating, but what does this have to do with me? Or you, for that matter?"

"Ah," Lucius stepped forward to place a hand on Ron's shoulder. "This marks the end of his apprenticeship."

Percy narrowed his eyes.

Ron smiled, a crooked little grin Percy remembered well, and crossed his arms smugly. "Let me put it this way, Percy. Pretend that me and Lucius are Quaffles and you're going to be our Keeper for the evening."

Thoughts of Keepers brought to mind Oliver from school, the only real 'experimentation' he'd taken part in. Flashes of Oliver beneath him, sweaty and cursing in his thick Scottish burr. Oh God. Percy turned away, his arms shaking as he wrapped them around his chest again.

"How do you put up with his crudeness?" he asked. When Percy couldn't resist looking anymore, he saw Lucius cupping Ron's cheek in his hand affectionately.

"It grows on you, Percy." His thumb swept over Ron's blunt, freckled nose. "I find I quite miss it sometimes."

"I see."

And he did. Percy knew that he would do this tonight. The utter adoration on Ron's face, the satisfied gleam in Lucius' eyes as he looked at him . . . Percy wanted that for himself. A little strangeness - and dare he say, unnaturalness - would do no harm in the long run.

So that was how Percy found himself on his back, being plucked and rubbed down with spiced oil by hands both rough and soft. Lucius concentrated on his arms and chest, delighting in how his nipples would pucker and flatten seemingly at random. Ron ran his fingers up and down Percy's legs, drizzling oil on his knees and thighs before moving higher. Percy arched up with a sharply drawn breath when Ron poked a finger roughly into his anus.

"Gently." Lucius shook his head. "Honestly, boy, have I taught you nothing?"

Ron ducked his head, concentration creasing his brow. His well- oiled finger stilled, then moved forward carefully this time, in and out, round in ever increasing circles until it was loose enough for him to slip another digit inside.

Percy couldn't help but grab Lucius around the neck, drawing his mouth down to cover his own. Ron wasn't really hurting him, it was only uncomfortable so far, but Percy took the opportunity to bury his fingers in Lucius' hair, delighting in the silky texture of it. He enjoyed having Lucius' mouth on his mouth, his tongue invading, twisting, turning, cool lips sucking gently. Because of this welcome distraction, Percy barely noticed when Ron slipped a third finger in, or when he poised his cock there, ready to plunge ahead.

Lucius stopped kissing Percy and looked up as if evaluating Ron's performance. "Ah, careful now. I don't think Percy's ever been on the receiving end before."

Ron's face was red, his neck thick and corded from restraining himself. His breath came in shaky puffs as he pushed into Percy inch by inch.

"Oh God," Percy moaned, burying his face in Lucius' arm.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Ron went further, his cock thin but long like a stiletto, piercing his body. It hurt. But just as Percy was about to scream for it to stop, he relaxed. The invasion was still slightly uncomfortable, but the pain was gone. Instead was a brilliant jolt of pleasure every time Ron moved in all the way.

Percy curled his legs up and planted his feet against the couch, pushing back against Ron when he crashed forward. It was crude and lacking rhythm, but Percy found that he really didn't mind at all.

Lucius leant forward suddenly and kissed Ron, his hand creeping down at the same time to grasp Percy's aching erection. Percy moaned as Lucius found the rhythm that Ron had not, calm and unhurried. His fingers were cool and slick from the oils, gliding so carefully over every ridge and bump, teasing the slit on top with his thumbnail.

Ron had stilled for a moment, but then jerked back to life unexpectedly, his last thrusts sending him over the edge. For Percy, the warm, fluidic splash on his insides heralded his own coming. Heat curled his toes, up his shuddering legs, coiled in his groin.

Percy jerked up, his back bent and he opened his mouth to scream, but Lucius was suddenly back, quietly swallowing the sound of his pleasure. His cock twitched its last against Lucius' fist, a surge of liquid beading on his perfect, pale skin.

Lucius leant back at last and stroked Percy's forehead with his clean hand. "You did well, Ron. Your apprenticeship is at an end." He looked up. "You may leave when you've composed yourself."

Ron wiped a hand over his brow and shrugged, ruffling his hair with one hand. "Cool."

He moved around Percy and pecked Lucius on the forehead. "Good luck with your new pet, mate. I'm off for wilder waters, m'self." Ron hovered over Percy for a minute as if debating before he finally kissed him softly with his thin, freckled lips. "Did good, big brother. You'll probably have more fun with Lucius, though, he's more your speed. See you."

With a funny little wave, Ron strolled out the door, still naked as the day he was born. Percy was at a loss for words, so instead he huddled into Lucius' warm chest and stomach.

"Did you like it?" Lucius whispered, lightly petting the sharp angles of Percy's collarbone.

"As I said, it wasn't what I expected."

Lucius laughed and Percy forgave him for it. "Things rarely are what we expect. It's what makes life so amusing." A whisper of a kiss on his cheek. "Dress yourself and we'll go back. You can stay with me tonight."

"Aren't you-- well, don't you need satisfaction?"

Lucius shrugged as he shifted out from behind him and helped Percy to his feet, handing him his clothes. "I've developed control over the years, I can wait."

"Ah." Percy pulled his robes around him, buttoning everything in and up. A small, secret smile tugged his lips. "Then I suppose I'll have to wait to ravish you, shall I?

Percy found that Lucius was even more attractive when he growled.


"Mr Weasley, do pay attention please."

Percy sighed and pulled his gaze away from the window, hastily scribbling notes for Mr Malfoy.

Lucius had been wrong, of course. The worlds did meet. But not in some twilight hour; memories crept in even when the sun was shining brightly in the sky. No matter how hard Percy tried to separate things in his mind, he still found himself reliving whatever he and Lucius had done the night before, wondering if what he had done was the right thing or not.

The nib of his quill broke suddenly, sputtering black ink over his page. Percy frowned and plucked a brown, spotted quill from his pen holder, dipping it precisely in his ink well before hurrying to catch up to where Mr Malfoy was in his dictation.

Mr Malfoy looked at him sharply, his gaze cold and dispassionate. Percy thought of the shimmering, warm waters of the river just outside his window again, but only as a contrast. It seemed that the idyllic days with his employer were at an end.

But the nights were just beginning.


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