Books and a Body
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Harry Potter series, thank you.
Books. Percy Weasley loved books with all of his heart.
As a young child, growing up in a family where a new child seemed to be born every other year and he never had the time to be the oldest or the youngest, but the mere middle, forgotten, he read hundreds of books. They started easy, even comical, such as The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. He slowly moved onto stories that held his interest for years, novels that he could say were high level than the other brothers and the one sister. No one listened, though.
Over the years, mainly at Hogwarts, he found the sight of books, even the scent of them, to be beautiful. They kept him company for so many years.
Penelope sat beside him on the floor, glancing through the bottom shelf, looking for a certain textbook. Her white shirt, the buttons done a bit lower than she intended as they rushed quickly from the Common Room, slipped from her tuck into the grey skirt. Percy glanced away at the books, memorizing their binding rather than her back. She drew away from the shelf, smiling.
"I found it. Here," she said, opening the books and flipping through. "Right there."
Percy ignored the book that she turned toward him, glancing into her face instead. Her cheeks looked wide, much like the pages of a book, the nose serving as a binding. It became terrifying how well he could read expressions like books.
Her cheeks read her nervousness. He smiled at her.
Penelope, the first woman Percy actually noted to be a woman, waved a hand in front of his face. Percy glanced through the spaces between the books on the shelf, then moved closer, snaking an arm around her shoulders, and then reaching to the other shoulder, taking it closer to him, leading her into a kiss.
She returned it, slowly melting into the feeling. Percy felt his muscles loosen. He enjoyed it. Her lips had to be a closed book as the pages slowly turned away from each other as he opened it to hungrily devour the words.
Percy could only imagine her lips as papery material, stiff yet bendable, almost breakable. He took gentle care with her as he kissed her, trying to never ruin those pages.
He opened his eyes just once, only to see the forgotten book between them. They landed on the floor, his body covering hers, still connected by the pages. With his foot, Percy managed to kick the book away, letting it fly out into the opening between aisles.
Books seemed pointless when there was ebullience with Penelope.
To Veracity, because everyone needs a bit of Percy love, no matter what, even if not at the Witching Hour. This was, of course, written as a sort of challenge by those who did not get to go to the wonderful Witching Hour. I envy those who did.