Nobody But Yourself

Nobody But Yourself

Chapter one - Best way out

"The best way out is always through." --Robert Frost

Percy knows he shouldn't feel this way. Especially not about this particular person. Especially not.

He shakes his head, trying to concentrate on cauldron bottoms, but all he can think about is a particular person's bottom... Percy groans in frustration. He's already spent the night doing the work he should have done the day before - only that he'd had the same problem to concentrate back then as he does now.

Percy sighs and thinks back to the day it had all started.

It hadn't been long after his return home. His dad had got him a job at the Ministry, and he was especially proud of that. He still lived at home with his parents, and his brothers didn't make it easy. All the time they were disrupting his studies and his work, and when he asked them to be a bit more quiet or at least take it somewhere else so that he could work in peace, all they did was laugh and tease him - he was just glad they would be away for the new school year after the summer holidays ended.

That day - the day it had all changed - he'd been up early. Mr Crouch expected an important report on his desk by the end of the week, and Percy intended to make it perfect. He wanted to be perfect.

He'd been up early because that way he could have the bathroom to himself without having to wait his turn since everyone else was still asleep... or so he'd thought.

Whistling to himself, Percy had made himself a piece of toast and read the Daily Prophet. He'd grabbed a towel and his robes and set off towards the bathroom then.

In the Weasley household, only very few doors were locked. If a door was closed, it usually had the same effect as if it were locked. Anyone who didn't want to be disturbed only had to close their door, and the others would see it and leave them alone. Of course, with the bathroom door it was another story - there it was almost impossible to find the door open, so you just had to knock and see if it was free. But on that morning, Percy didn't. Why should he? He was the only one awake, wasn't he?

He wasn't.

He'd opened the door, and walked in, suspecting to find an empty bathroom and have a hot shower, but then his breath had caught in his chest, and his heart started pumping wildly.

He wasn't alone in the bathroom. His dad was up already. After a few moments Percy had realised that his father had cast a Silencing Spell around himself, and obviously it had been one of the easier spells - the ones that work both ways - so while no one could hear his father, his father couldn't hear anyone, and standing with the back to the door, he didn't see Percy. And Percy - after getting over his initial shock - didn't make a sound anyway; he was fascinated.

Percy had never seen his father as a sexual being - in fact, he'd even refused to think of him as a sexual being... after all, who would want to think of his parents having sex? But that day, this seemed to be impossible.

Although his back was turned towards the door, Percy could see more of his father than he'd ever wanted to see. His father had obviously woken up incredibly aroused.

It wasn't the first time Percy'd seen his father naked. In a family this big nearly everyone had seen the others naked at some point. And being male himself and having lived with six other boys for seven years had taught him about male anatomy - he wasn't shocked at the prospect that his father had a penis, or to see the faintly red hair on his chest - but what had shocked him was the erection and the fact that his father was about to jerk himself off. It really wasn't an everyday occurrence that you found your father in a situation like this.

And even now Percy can't quite tell why he didn't run in panic, or embarrassment, couldn't explain why he had stood there, silently watching his father.

He watched as his father slowly encircled his erect cock with his hands and began stroking hard and fast. He watched the expression on his father's face change, from pleased to orgasmic. He watched his father pant and shudder, coming all over the sink and the floor and his hand. He watched his father clean himself off with magic, and only then he fled, knowing that his father would turn and see him if he didn't.

He'd been hard. He almost couldn't believe it - he'd been aroused because he'd seen his father naked and hard. He couldn't believe it - it almost seemed like a dream, unreal - but his achingly hard erection had made it difficult to forget.

Percy had paced his room, not knowing what to do. How could he ever look his father in the eye again without blushing and stammering? Without getting hard? Because it all had to come back to that, didn't it?

Percy remembers all that, and he is aroused again, just thinking of that day. He sighs, wishing he knew a way to make things right again.

He doesn't even know how he's supposed to get through dinner. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are here on a visit, and everyone will be off to the Quidditch World Cup in a few days, but until then he's on his own. He will have to talk to his father. After all, he's expected to brag about his job and talk to his father. Talk to his father.

Percy is tempted to crack his head open, or at least slam it so hard against the desk that it gives him amnesia and he won't remember that day.

Outside he can hear all his brothers and the guests, laughing and talking and being loud. And what the hell is this crashing sound? He walks over to the window, and all he sees for a moment are two tables, crashing in mid-air.

What the-

Percy opens the window, and of course, the commotion is caused by Charlie and Bill, having one of their 'Let's entertain everyone with stupid things' days.

"Will you keep it down?" Percy doesn't mean to yell quite as loud, but he can't control himself. Bill does look like his father, in a way. Not that he is as tall, or as thin. He doesn't even have the same facial traits. And Bill's got long, deep red hair while his father's hair is beginning to get grey, and he is balding. No, maybe Bill doesn't look like his father, but in this situation the Weasley resemblance is enough to almost drive Percy mad.

"Sorry, Perce. How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?" Bill grins. Percy doesn't like Bill when he grins like that. And it does nothing to improve his mood.

"Very badly," he says, not even trying to hide his bad mood. And the cauldron bottoms are coming on rather badly - he hasn't written a word yet. He just can't concentrate.

A knock on the door some time later startles him. He checks the clock; it's not yet dinnertime.

"Come in," he says grudgingly, not really wanting to be disturbed. He is supposed to be working.

"Percy?" His father comes in, smiling slightly. "Still working? You should leave those cauldrons alone for a while. Why don't you come outside and join our game of Quidditch?"

Percy swallows hard. His father. "You're home already?"

"I decided to leave early; we have guests after all."

The smile was driving Percy crazy. He tried not to think of his father's lips, or how they would feel against his.

"I don't think it's right that Crouch makes you work in your free time as well."

Automatically, Percy jumps to defend Mr Crouch. "It is all right, Dad, really. I'm just catching up on a few things, it's my own fault, you see. I didn't work hard enough, so I have to make it up."

His father reaches over the desk to get a look at the parchment, and Percy's heart skips a beat as he stares up at his neck, so close to his face that he can smell the residue of this morning's aftershave on his father's chin.

"Hmm," he says, studying the report. "You didn't get much work done, did you? I'll tell your brothers to be a bit quieter so that you can work properly."

"I wish that were the problem," Percy mutters, not thinking that his father might hear him, but he does.

"Why? Is something else bothering you?"

"No," Percy hurries to say. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

His father looks sceptical. Percy averts his eyes, even though he knows it makes him suspicious. He just can't keep looking at the man. Not without thinking of that day in the bathroom, and getting hard again.

"Are you really okay?"

"Yes, Father. I need to work." He hopes his father will leave. Soon.

"Well then, good luck with the report. Dinner is almost ready."

Percy nods, and his father leaves the room. Quickly, Percy casts a locking charm and a silencing spell and takes off his robe. The second he comes he imagines his father's hands on himself rather than his own, and it makes his orgasm all the more powerful.

***

"Percy, I know that something is wrong. Please, tell me. I'm trying to help," his father says a few days later. Percy is startled to hear his father's voice from the threshold of his little office in the basement.

Percy doesn't know how to react. What can he say, really?

Hey, Dad, it's nothing - only that every time I look at you, I can't help thinking of the day I caught you in the bathroom, stroking yourself, and now it makes me hard every time I see you.

Not really an option.

You know, I'm incredibly turned on my this middle-aged, red-haired man who happens to be my father.

I think not.

Nothing, Dad, really. I'm fine. Could you possibly fuck me right now so that I can see if I'm just being stupid or if this is something real?

Probably not the best choice.

"I'm fine, Dad. Don't worry."

He doesn't believe it; Percy is lying rather obviously.

"Percy."

Oh fuck, now I'm getting turned on by his voice alone!

"If you don't want to talk to me about it, maybe your mother--"

"No! Dad. Nothing is wrong. I'm fine. I'm okay. Just - I can't talk right now. I have to work."

"You've been so distant all summer. And after the World Cup you've barely been home. What happened?"

You. You happened. You and your early morning escapades. Do you know that I wake up early now, only to see if I might catch you again? Do you know that I dream of you at night, and wake up sweating and sticky? Do you know?

"It's complicated."

"Does this have to do with your break-up with Penelope?"

Percy's head whips around. How does he know? Penny had always been his secret, or at least he hadn't talked about her often. And he certainly hasn't said anything about a break-up, so how does his father know?

"I-"

"I heard it from her father - met him at work today. Listen, Percy, I don't know why you two broke up, but I can assure you that you'll find someone else - a nice girl who'll love you and maybe you'll start a family and-"

Percy can't listen to this any more. He doesn't want to find a nice girl. He doesn't want a family. He already has one, doesn't he?

"I like someone else," he hears himself say.

"What? I mean, all right, Percy. Then you did the right thing. Never give anyone false hope, that's just cruel." A pause, and his father finally comes into Percy's office and sits down. Percy looks up from his parchment and wishes he hadn't. His father doesn't wear robes but Muggle clothes, and those are too revealing for his tastes, even if his father wears jeans and a shirt. The jeans are far too tight anyway.

Percy swallows, trying to get some moisture down his throat - his whole mouth and his throat feel sore and painfully dry. Involuntarily he licks his lips as his father leans backwards in his seat and crosses his legs, giving Percy a nice view of his legs.

"Don't you want to tell me who it is?"

The hoarse voice startles Percy, and he is pulled out of his trance. He is hard again. His father doesn't notice, luckily.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not supposed to like him."

"Him?"

Percy bites his tongue, hard. He draws blood, and the metallic taste calms his nerves a bit. He nods; he can't take it back now anyway - his father would still remember.

"And why aren't you supposed to like... him?" His father asks his question with genuine interest, and he isn't disgusted, or so it seems. "Is he with someone else?"

Percy nods again. "Sort of. Yes. He's married."

Percy can tell that his father doesn't know what to say. Or at least he doesn't know how to say it, because he starts twisting his fingers around a white handkerchief. Percy finds himself staring at those hands, imagining them on his skin, touching his body, caressing him and teasing him. He can't look away.

Suddenly he can't stand it anymore. "I need to go. Sorry," he murmurs, hoping that his father will let him get away with that. He doesn't. His father catches up to him before he reaches the door, and he grabs Percy's arm.

"Percy... I know that we haven't been close lately-" Percy wants to snort, but at the same time, he wants to kiss his father, wants to find out what those red lips feel like on his, wants to show his father just how close they should be "-and I know you sometimes think I'm a fool for liking Muggle things like plugs and all that-" And Muggle clothing. Don't forget Muggle clothing, okay? Those jeans are just too tight for anyone who's Percy's father, and standing so close, and touching, and Percy's erection is pressing against the fabric of his trousers, and he's glad the robes conceal it. "-but I want you to know that I'm there for you. You can tell me everything." And for a second, Percy believes him. Wants to tell him everything, and be hugged and kissed and told that he's still loved. But he doesn't.

"I mean it, Percy. Tell me. You'll feel better. I promise."

Percy suddenly becomes aware of how close together they're standing. His father has one hand wrapped around Percy's left arm, while the other hand is resting on the door, which he is blocking with his body. Percy is standing close - far too close - to him, and he could trap his father between himself and the door.

Then his father's other hand slowly reaches up and gently strokes Percy's cheek. It's only a small gesture of affection, but Percy almost comes right then and there, just because of one tiny feathery touch. He draws in a sharp gasp and pushes his father away, against the door.

"Percy! What is it?"

And then he can't take it anymore. He can't live under the same roof as this man, the one he dreams about every night. All his brothers are away at school now, and his mother is often preoccupied. He and his father are spending most of their nights in the sitting room, talking about work, and it's torture for Percy. He just can't do this anymore. He can't. He has to go. As soon as possible. This night. Now.

"I'm moving out. Today." He tries to walk past his father, but he's still blocking the door.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm moving out. To my own place. Somewhere."

"Percy, did you think about this? It's not that easy living on your own. Do you have a flat, or a room somewhere? Did you think of furniture, everything? Percy, did you think at all?" There's a raw, pleading, almost desperate tone to his father's voice, and Percy can tell that he's hurt.

"Of course I did! It's all I do nowadays," Percy screams. "I can't stop thinking of... I can't stop, don't you understand?" he asks, even though he know that his father couldn't possibly understand him.

"Percy..."

"No." Percy's voice is now determined. "I will move out, today. I can't stay there any longer."

His father is confused, hurt, and disbelieving. Percy hurts inside, but he knows he can't take it any longer.

"Why?"

"You want to know why?" Percy almost laughs. It is rather ironic, isn't it? "You don't want to know."

"Percy, tell me! You can't suddenly decide to leave us. Tell me what's wrong!"

Percy smiles sadly. "I can't tell you - but... I can show you." And before he can think about it, he presses his father against the door, forcing his mouth upon his father's. His father is so stunned that he doesn't react. Percy takes the chance to press against him closer, and pushes his tongue into his father's mouth. He probably won't ever again get the chance, so he might as well use it. His father still doesn't move, and Percy feels horrible, pressed against Arthur's tense and unresponsive body, but he simply can't move away.

Percy's erection rubs against his father's leg, and Percy sneaks a hand into his father's jeans while the other hand holds him against the door. Percy grabs his father cock, hard and forceful, and his father groans - he doesn't know if in pleasure or pain, or both. Quickly, Percy strokes his father's member which grows hard almost instantly.

Percy's movements are frantic now. He rubs his erection against his father's leg while trying to keep up his speed with his other hand. It doesn't take him long to come. His father is still mostly impassive, but he, too, comes shortly afterwards, leaving Percy's fingers a sticky mess.

Percy's movements are frantic now. He rubs his erection against his father's leg while trying to keep up his speed with his other hand. It doesn't take him long to come. His father is still mostly impassive, but he, too, comes shortly afterwards, leaving Percy's fingers a sticky mess.

Percy, breathing hard now, kisses his father one last time and pulls his hand out of the jeans. His father's knees are weak, and the confused expression on his face only intensifies as Percy raises his head to look into his eyes.

"I can't stop thinking of you," he whispers desperately. "It's driving me mad. I need to move out."

And with that, he leaves his father in his office and, with shaking legs, nearly runs down the corridor to get away as far away from his father as possible. In the atrium, he goes to the fireplaces to Floo home. He needs to get his things.

End chapter one