Work Text:
The office was doing its usual post-lunch drift into sluggishness, you know the one. When that warm, slightly stuffy haze that made paper curl at the edges and computers hum louder than usual, curls around bodies who slump more into their desks and scowl more than smile. Harry had long since abandoned his swivel chair, instead sitting cross-legged on the carpet beside Percy’s desk. A half-sorted pile of files sat between them, though Harry was fairly certain they hadn’t made much progress in the last ten minutes.
Percy was writing something with brisk precision, the tip of his quill tapping against the desk every so often. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and his tie had loosened over the course of the day. A striking image he made but small signs that Percy Weasley was, in fact, human and not purely made of rules and timetables.
Harry absently twirled a paperclip between his fingers. “Do you ever notice how the clouds move slower after lunch?”
Percy glanced down at him, bemused. “No. Because unlike some people, I don’t spend work hours staring out the window.”
“I wasn’t staring,” Harry said, leaning back on his hands. “I was thinking. That’s what good employees do.”
“Oh, so now you’re a model employee?” Percy’s voice was dry, but his lips twitched.
Harry’s eyes flicked to the tall window beside Percy’s desk. “I mean, the clouds are right there. That one…” he pointed “...looks exactly like a Hippogriff.”
Percy followed his gaze, squinting against the light. “That’s clearly a teapot.”
Harry grinned. “You just want an excuse to make more tea.”
Percy huffed a laugh, and without looking away from his desk, reached over to give the top of Harry’s head a light smack with the nearest file.
Harry feigned a gasp. “Physical assault? In the workplace? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, Weasley.”
“Maybe I’ll add insubordination to your file while I’m at it.” Percy’s voice had the barest hint of a smile.
Harry’s grin widened. He reached up, caught Percy’s loosened tie in one hand, and gave it a quick tug. “Dangerously close to harassment.” He said, voice mock-serious.
Percy looked down at him sharply, startled into stillness then the corner of his mouth curved up, slow and deliberate. “Careful, Potter.”
But Harry tugged again, just enough to make Percy lean forward a fraction. The gap between them felt smaller than it had any right to be. Harry was suddenly aware of the faint scent of Percy’s aftershave, something clean, like cedar and fresh parchment, and of the warmth radiating from him. His stomach gave an unhelpful flutter, the kind he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.
Percy’s eyes flicked to the hand still holding his tie, then back up to Harry’s face. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“That’s the fun part.” Harry said quietly.
A few seconds passed where neither of them moved. Then Percy tugged his tie free, the moment breaking. “If you’re going to watch clouds, let’s do it properly.”
Harry blinked. “Properly?”
Five minutes later, they were on the roof of the building, jackets balled under their heads, the world a distant hum below them. The air smelled faintly of rain even though the sun was warm, and the clouds drifted lazily overhead, white against the soft blue.
“That one’s definitely a dragon.” Harry said, shading his eyes to point.
“That’s a quill.” Percy countered without hesitation.
Harry rolled his head to the side to look at him. Percy was lying perfectly still, hands folded neatly on his stomach, the breeze lifting strands of his copper hair. “You really need more imagination.”
“I prefer accuracy.” Percy’s lips curved faintly. “And if you tilt your head you’ll see it’s clearly a quill.”
Harry followed the line of his finger, then shook his head. “Hopeless.”
“You love it.” Percy said, and there was no teasing in his voice this time, just a quiet certainty that had grown over time.
Harry didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on Percy’s profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the faint flush on his cheeks from the sun. That tight flutter in his chest was back, stronger now, and it was getting harder to pretend it was just from the warmth of the afternoon.
The breeze shifted, Percy’s sleeve brushing against Harry’s arm. Neither moved away.
“I think,” Harry said slowly, “you’re just scared to admit my cloud interpretation skills are better.”
Percy turned his head, their eyes locking. “And I think you’re looking for an argument you can’t win.”
Harry smirked, reaching over to jab Percy lightly in the ribs. Percy jerked and swatted at his hand, missing. That was all the encouragement Harry needed to jab him again, leading to Percy catching his wrist and twisting it just enough to pin Harry’s arm to the roof between them.
“Cheater.” Harry said, grinning up at him.
“Efficient.” Percy corrected, his voice low. His other hand braced against the roof beside Harry’s head, holding himself over him in a way that felt far more intimate than either of them probably intended.
Harry’s breath caught. The butterflies in his stomach went wild. Percy’s hair was haloed in the sunlight, and for a dizzy moment Harry was convinced that if he leaned up just slightly…
Percy released him, rolling back onto his side as though nothing had happened. “Dragon or quill?” he asked lightly, pointing skyward again.
Harry stared up at the drifting cloud, trying to remember how breathing worked. “Hippogriff.” he said, because it was safer than saying what he really wanted to.