Stay

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Story Notes:
2/26/08
"You can't leave."

Percy watches her stop before she reaches the door, and he feels a wave of panic wash over him. She doesn't turn around to face him when she speaks. "You just told me to go, Percy."

While her words are true, he thinks she's taking them out of context. Yes, that's it. She never listens to him, so why has she started now? He tugs on his hair as he stares at her back, noticing the slump of her shoulders and the way her wild hair seems almost subdued for the first time in, goodness, since they met when she was eleven. "No, I said you should go."

That's obviously not the thing to say because she spins around to face him, and he's never seen anything so beautiful as her with her eyes sparking and her hair now full of life again. "I'm tired of this game you're playing," she says in a voice that does very bad things for his concentration. It's low and husky with an edge of danger that he's not heard before.

"I don't play games, Hermione," he points out, cringing slightly when he hears how prim and obnoxious he sounds. No wonder she's eager to finally listen to him and leave.

"That's all this has been, isn't it?" she asks, motioning around his flat even as she keeps her focus on him.

He shifts nervously and looks at the dining table where candles are still burning and listens to the music he has playing which, in retrospect, is romantic. Perhaps there is fact to her claim that he intended to seduce her this evening, but it's not a conscious decision on his part. Not that he hasn't thought about it, many times. He just isn't the type to seduce a beautiful woman, not even one that he's wanted longer than he cares to admit.

"See? You can't even deny it." She sighs then and shakes her head as she wraps her arms around her chest in a manner that is familiar.

He's seen it many times before, years ago when she dated Ron and they'd fight about anything under the bloody sun. Every time Ron really hurt her, she would look like this, and Percy is shocked to realize that he's caused it tonight. But, if he has, then it means---No, it can't mean she cares. Not the way he wants. This entire situation is too confusing for him to think straight.

She bites her lip and looks away. "Please forget everything that's happened tonight, Percy. Blame the wine, if you must. I'm tired and going home."

"It wasn't the wine," he says quickly, taking a step forward before he can stop himself. He thinks back to their conversation, to the laughing and flirting, to the way she tasted when he impulsively kissed her while they washed up. "Was it?"

"Does it matter? I thought---it doesn't matter what I thought because I was obviously wrong. It's humiliating enough being rejected without this conversation adding to it. Just let me go."

"Rejected?" Now he knows that she must have had too much wine because she's bloody wrong. He's never behaved the way that he did with her just minutes ago, and there certainly was no rejection occurring when he had her pressed up against the counter in the kitchen. He's still throbbing, in fact, so she's obviously drunk or crazy.

She makes a growling noise and glares at him, which should be infuriating but is actually arousing, a sign that he's too far gone to make sense anymore. "Yes, rejected. Verb meaning to refuse to accept or give affection to."

"Oh, God," he groans, reaching up to push his spectacles up the bridge of his nose so that she can't see how turned on he is right now. He should not be aroused by definitions. She turns around again, and he feels that same sense of panic. He can't let her go. If she does, everything will change, but not in the ways he wants and hopes. Why isn't he better at this? "Please, Hermione."

"Please what, Percy?" She turns back to him. "I'm still here because I was hoping that you wanted to say something to make me stay, but you're just making me feel worse."

"I'm sorry. I never intended---" He trails off because that's not the right thing to say, either. Someone obviously needs to write a book about how to communicate in such situations. If he'd read about it, he wouldn't be so utterly dreadful at this. He watches her for a moment, looking at her eyes and her lips and that glorious hair as he tightens his grip around a galleon in his pocket. A galleon. An idea occurs to him, though it's incredibly silly and might end up getting him hexed. Still, everything he's ever wanted is about to walk out his door because he's a fool, so he has to try. "A game."

She frowns. "A game?" He feels more in control now that he has a plan, a conscious one since he really didn't intend to seduce her with candles and dinner and---okay, maybe he had hoped but it isn't exactly the same as now. She licks her lips as she watches him, just a quick swipe of her tongue against the full pouty lower lip, and he doesn't think she even realizes just how sexy she is because, really, if she did, she certainly wouldn't be with him. In this case, he can appreciate her lack of self-awareness.

"Yes. I'm going to throw this galleon in the air," he tells her, pulling his hand out of his pocket and showing her the galleon, "and you're going to, uh, call it. If it lands on what you say, I'll stop talking and let you go."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then you'll stay," he whispers, looking into her eyes as he nervously rubs his thumb over the coin.

"Do you want me to stay?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she looks so vulnerable that he wants to hex himself for buggering things up so badly. Why did he listen to his conscience instead of just shagging her against the bloody counter like he wanted?

He reaches up and brushes his hand against her cheek before hesitantly tracing her lips with his thumb. He tightens his grip on the galleon and groans softly when she licks him. Her expression is changing, but he's too far gone to really understand what she might be thinking now. He wants. "Yes."

"Why did you tell me to go?" she asks as she moves her fingers into his hair. Her breath is warm against his neck, and he gasps when she suddenly kisses him beneath his ear. Oh God, how can such a ridiculous spot be so sensitive? Are there places like that on her? He whimpers softly as he thinks about exploring her all over and finding every single one of them. Multiple times.

"I--we---" How can she expect him to talk when she's nibbling on his neck? He drops the galleon on the floor and tangles her hair around his fingers. "Enough talking," he murmurs as he pulls her head back and kisses her desperately. She makes a whining noise before she pushes closer to him and opens her mouth to him. As he kisses her, he moves them to the sofa and moves his hand down her back until he can grip her bum. He pulls back from the kiss as they fall to the sofa together. "Stay?"

She smiles, a smile that makes her eyes glow and her face flush, and kisses him again. In between the kisses, he hears her whisper, "I'll stay."

End