Categories > Books > Harry Potter
Relax, We've Got You
0 reviewsPercy’s ministry work has him stressed beyond belief. The twins decide to intervene, for their own purposes.
0Unrated
The Ministry was kicking Percy’s ass.
Being promoted was probably one of the greatest honors and worst mistakes of his life. For all the glamour that his career afforded him, he also had mounds of paperwork cluttering every inch of his desk and spilling onto the floor.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It’d take him eons to get this done. He was convinced that the Minister was giving him busy work and didn’t even need half of the documents that he made Percy edit, redraft, sign and organize. Of course, it would be blasphemous to say such a thing aloud, so he kept those thoughts to himself.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes trailing up to the small shelf of knick-knacks above his desk. Sandwiched between random books, action figures, and framed photos was a chocolate frog box full of trading cards from his first year, still in good condition despite the time.
He carefully opened the lid of the small box, flipping through the cards he had. Nestled between Dumbledore and Bertie Bott was a small piece of paper, folded and flattened with care so as to be imperceptible when rifling through the deck. He opened it up for the first time in almost a year.
It was two photos, folded so tightly that they appeared to only be one. The first was of Oliver Wood mid-flight. After a few seconds, the photo moved, and Oliver smacked a Quaffle away from the Gryffindor goal posts, intently focused. Percy brushed a thumb over it.
The second was his favorite photo by far. It was him and Oliver after an intense Gryffindor vs Slytherin game. He watched as he and Oliver struggled to figure out how to pose, before deciding to wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders. Just before the photo froze, Oliver moved his arm down to photo-Percy’s waist, pulling him close and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen. Photo-Percy did the same, leaning his head on Oliver’s shoulder. Percy smiled. He still remembered how horrible Oliver smelled after that game.
He glanced at Hermes, who was sleeping on a perch near his open window. He and Oliver hadn’t spoken in ages. Would it be strange to write to him? To ask how he was?
The sound of thundering footsteps sent him fumbling with the chocolate box, as he struggled to put the photos back. He slammed the box back into its usual spot just as Fred and George burst through the door, chests heaving. It looked like they’d run a marathon given how red their faces were.
“Perce, we need a favor,” George said, leaning against the doorframe. Fred giggled, seemingly involuntary, but George elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.
“What is it? I’m busy.” Percy picked up his quill again, squinting at the parchment before him. It was some kind of administrative petition that made absolutely no sense.
“You don’t look busy.” George leaned over Percy’s shoulder, grabbing a few random parchments from the piles on the desk. He skimmed through them for all of ten seconds before putting them back in random places, decidedly, and rightfully, bored.
“Please, come in,” Percy muttered, trying not to let the twins distract him. He’d distracted himself enough already.
“Of course he‘s busy. Look at how tense his shoulders are, how tired he is.” Fred leaned over his other shoulder, poking Percy’s cheek.
“Here, let’s do something nice for him.” George turned Percy’s chair, and before he could complain, started kneading his brother’s tense shoulders. Percy groaned, sliding down in his chair. Fred crouched in front of Percy’s bare feet.
“Give me your feet.”
“Why?” Percy narrowed his eyes, scooting his legs away.
“I want to feed them to the gnomes,” Fred said sarcastically, yanking Percy’s legs forward, “You act as if I’ve done something to you.”
“You have. Multiple times.”
“Why live in the past? That’s water under the bridge. I’m trying to be kind to you. Do you want this massage or not?” Fred stared him down.
“Fine,” He mumbled, and Fred pressed his thumbs into Percy’s arches.
“See how nice it is to relax?” George murmured. Percy was unable to keep a sigh at bay when George found a particularly nasty knot. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He hadn’t realized how wound up he’d been until his brothers started forcing the tension from his muscles. It made sense, given how he’d been hunched over his desk for what felt like years.
“It’s okay. We’ve got you.” Fred smiled, and Percy let himself sink deeper into his chair. He was so tired and the massage felt so nice.
At least it did, until George squeezed his shoulder a little too softly and Percy let out a tiny giggle.
“Oh Percy,” Fred said, as if he was genuinely in pain. Percy looked up at George, and his heart sank when he saw the same expression. He knew that look, and it was never good.
“Listen, you don’t have to do this,” Percy said, raising his hands in surrender. He cursed himself for smiling already, but he couldn’t help it.
“Oh, but we do.” George said audibly smirking, and Percy knew he wasn’t getting out of this.
“Didn’t you guys need something? You barged in here earlier. What can I do for you?” He cleared his throat, looking between the twins.
“You’re right. We did need something from you. Earlier, George and I were trying to test a hypothesis. It’s something that’s been bothering us for a while, so we figured there was no better day than today to get our answers.”
“What was the hypothesis?” He asked, already dreading the answer.
“Excellent question. For years, we’d been pondering one specific question. Out of the seven of us, who is the most ticklish?” Percy’s eyes widened, and when he tried to get up, George forced him back down by the shoulders.
“So, to answer your original question, there is something you can do for us.” Fred gripped Percy’s ankles tightly in his hands. "Laugh."
And with that, twenty devious fingers descended upon Percy’s skin. He exploded into shrill, high-pitched laughter, already flailing like his life depended on it. George’s fingers fluttered all around Percy’s neck, traveling over the shells of his ears or down to his collarbones every once in a while. Percy kept trying to dodge, but George would always be at his other side, ensuring he couldn’t escape.
“Oh he’s easily number four. Look at how quickly we broke him!” Fred said casually, scratching gently at the base of Percy’s toes. Every time Percy tried to grab George’s hands, Fred upped his attack, and vice versa, which resulted in a unique brand of desperate laughter.
“Are you mental? He’s in the top three with you and Charlie.” George said with full confidence, and both Fred and Percy turned bright pink—though the latter was more due to giggling.
“I just don’t see it,” Fred muttered.
“Did you get the soles of his feet yet?” George gave him a look and Percy squeaked, trying to free his feet with renewed vigor.
“I’ll be honest, I forgot about that. Thank you.” Fred adjusted his grip, ending Percy’s hope for escape.
“You’re welcome. It’s important to be thorough. Don’t you agree, Percy?” George smirked.
“N-Nohoho!” He tried to twist out of the chair, but George wouldn’t let him.
“Well, that kind of mindset will only get you into trouble. Are you not thorough in your Ministry work?” Fred’s fingers hovered above Percy’s soles, sweeping in close and wiggling threateningly but never striking.
“Fred, please. Don’t do it. I’ll do the dishes for a week. For both of you. Please.” Percy kept trying to pull his legs away, knowing from experience exactly how badly this would tickle.
“Begging already?” Fred beamed.
“Sounds like something a three would say.” George said and Fred laughed over Percy’s indignant squawk.
“Now I see it. He’s definitely a top three. I mean, watch,” Fred said, and with one finger he ever-so-gently scratched at the ball of Percy’s right foot and he screamed.
“All it takes is one finger to break him. Incredible.” Fred moved his blunt nail in maddening patterns, sending tickly shocks through his entire nervous system. He could feel it everywhere, maddeningly light and impossibly powerful. When Percy tried to kick free and earned more ruthless focus on those spots as a reward.
“Ihi hahate bohoth of yohou! Stohop! Ahaha, Pleahase!” He threw his head back, which was really inconvenient, as he gave George complete access to the front of his neck and underneath his chin.
Eventually, Fred tickled Percy's right foot while George tickled Percy's left foot for three whole minutes; first on his soles, then his heels, before finally getting to his instep.
Their ticklish strokes were feathery light and quickened with enthusiasm. Fred and George were dominating Percy with tickles at a steady pace.
HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! OH, YOU "EEHEEHEEEVIL," "EEHEEHEEHEEVIL…" SQUEAK GAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!
Fred was far more liberal with his technique. He ran his fingers up and down Percy’s sole, from his heel to the base of his toes and back again. Percy knew not which style tickled more, only that his body was quickly being taken over by the sensations. He squealed with laughter. His feet flailed and curled. He writhed every which way he could in reaction to the tickles filling his body, none of which helped in setting him free from the tickling twins.
Fred added his other hand to Percy’s foot. One scribbled up beneath his toes while the other clawed at Percy's heel and arch. George's technique was to hold Percy's foot steady while unleashing highly concentrated bursts of tickles all over his foot, exploring every inch of the delicate sole. He scribbled his nails against each of his toes, making sure to savor the changes in his laughter as he moved down the row.
“Staaaaahhhahahahahp!! Oh gaaahahahahahahahaad!!!” Percy squealed. His laughter broke through his voice. He bounced and pulled to the impulsive reactions to the tickles raging through him.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle…” George chanted.
“He’s looking rather red.” Fred pinched one of Percy’s toes and he giggled tiredly.
“I suppose we have the data we need.” George ran a finger down Percy’s foot before relenting entirely.
“Percy, take a nap. You’re no use to anyone when you’re tired and cranky.” Fred gave Percy’s knee a squeeze and he yelped, but instead of pulling his knees to his chest, he threw an arm over his forehead.
“Speaking of which, is Ron asleep?” George patted Percy on the head.
“He normally takes his naps around now, yes.” Fred raised an eyebrow, waiting for George to clue him in.
“What if we cut the line a smidge and do some preliminary research?” George wiggled his fingers a little and Fred grinned, stretching his fingers.
“Sounds perfect to me.”
They were gone as quickly as they came, chattering excitedly about strategy and their experiment.
Percy flopped onto his bed, already feeling the ache of laughter fade from his lungs. As much as he grumbled, the twins had helped in their own strange way. The levity felt nice in his weary bones.
He drifted off rather quickly, dreaming of Quidditch captains and giggles, completely oblivious to Ron’s desperate laughter booming from down the hall.
Being promoted was probably one of the greatest honors and worst mistakes of his life. For all the glamour that his career afforded him, he also had mounds of paperwork cluttering every inch of his desk and spilling onto the floor.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It’d take him eons to get this done. He was convinced that the Minister was giving him busy work and didn’t even need half of the documents that he made Percy edit, redraft, sign and organize. Of course, it would be blasphemous to say such a thing aloud, so he kept those thoughts to himself.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes trailing up to the small shelf of knick-knacks above his desk. Sandwiched between random books, action figures, and framed photos was a chocolate frog box full of trading cards from his first year, still in good condition despite the time.
He carefully opened the lid of the small box, flipping through the cards he had. Nestled between Dumbledore and Bertie Bott was a small piece of paper, folded and flattened with care so as to be imperceptible when rifling through the deck. He opened it up for the first time in almost a year.
It was two photos, folded so tightly that they appeared to only be one. The first was of Oliver Wood mid-flight. After a few seconds, the photo moved, and Oliver smacked a Quaffle away from the Gryffindor goal posts, intently focused. Percy brushed a thumb over it.
The second was his favorite photo by far. It was him and Oliver after an intense Gryffindor vs Slytherin game. He watched as he and Oliver struggled to figure out how to pose, before deciding to wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders. Just before the photo froze, Oliver moved his arm down to photo-Percy’s waist, pulling him close and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen. Photo-Percy did the same, leaning his head on Oliver’s shoulder. Percy smiled. He still remembered how horrible Oliver smelled after that game.
He glanced at Hermes, who was sleeping on a perch near his open window. He and Oliver hadn’t spoken in ages. Would it be strange to write to him? To ask how he was?
The sound of thundering footsteps sent him fumbling with the chocolate box, as he struggled to put the photos back. He slammed the box back into its usual spot just as Fred and George burst through the door, chests heaving. It looked like they’d run a marathon given how red their faces were.
“Perce, we need a favor,” George said, leaning against the doorframe. Fred giggled, seemingly involuntary, but George elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.
“What is it? I’m busy.” Percy picked up his quill again, squinting at the parchment before him. It was some kind of administrative petition that made absolutely no sense.
“You don’t look busy.” George leaned over Percy’s shoulder, grabbing a few random parchments from the piles on the desk. He skimmed through them for all of ten seconds before putting them back in random places, decidedly, and rightfully, bored.
“Please, come in,” Percy muttered, trying not to let the twins distract him. He’d distracted himself enough already.
“Of course he‘s busy. Look at how tense his shoulders are, how tired he is.” Fred leaned over his other shoulder, poking Percy’s cheek.
“Here, let’s do something nice for him.” George turned Percy’s chair, and before he could complain, started kneading his brother’s tense shoulders. Percy groaned, sliding down in his chair. Fred crouched in front of Percy’s bare feet.
“Give me your feet.”
“Why?” Percy narrowed his eyes, scooting his legs away.
“I want to feed them to the gnomes,” Fred said sarcastically, yanking Percy’s legs forward, “You act as if I’ve done something to you.”
“You have. Multiple times.”
“Why live in the past? That’s water under the bridge. I’m trying to be kind to you. Do you want this massage or not?” Fred stared him down.
“Fine,” He mumbled, and Fred pressed his thumbs into Percy’s arches.
“See how nice it is to relax?” George murmured. Percy was unable to keep a sigh at bay when George found a particularly nasty knot. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He hadn’t realized how wound up he’d been until his brothers started forcing the tension from his muscles. It made sense, given how he’d been hunched over his desk for what felt like years.
“It’s okay. We’ve got you.” Fred smiled, and Percy let himself sink deeper into his chair. He was so tired and the massage felt so nice.
At least it did, until George squeezed his shoulder a little too softly and Percy let out a tiny giggle.
“Oh Percy,” Fred said, as if he was genuinely in pain. Percy looked up at George, and his heart sank when he saw the same expression. He knew that look, and it was never good.
“Listen, you don’t have to do this,” Percy said, raising his hands in surrender. He cursed himself for smiling already, but he couldn’t help it.
“Oh, but we do.” George said audibly smirking, and Percy knew he wasn’t getting out of this.
“Didn’t you guys need something? You barged in here earlier. What can I do for you?” He cleared his throat, looking between the twins.
“You’re right. We did need something from you. Earlier, George and I were trying to test a hypothesis. It’s something that’s been bothering us for a while, so we figured there was no better day than today to get our answers.”
“What was the hypothesis?” He asked, already dreading the answer.
“Excellent question. For years, we’d been pondering one specific question. Out of the seven of us, who is the most ticklish?” Percy’s eyes widened, and when he tried to get up, George forced him back down by the shoulders.
“So, to answer your original question, there is something you can do for us.” Fred gripped Percy’s ankles tightly in his hands. "Laugh."
And with that, twenty devious fingers descended upon Percy’s skin. He exploded into shrill, high-pitched laughter, already flailing like his life depended on it. George’s fingers fluttered all around Percy’s neck, traveling over the shells of his ears or down to his collarbones every once in a while. Percy kept trying to dodge, but George would always be at his other side, ensuring he couldn’t escape.
“Oh he’s easily number four. Look at how quickly we broke him!” Fred said casually, scratching gently at the base of Percy’s toes. Every time Percy tried to grab George’s hands, Fred upped his attack, and vice versa, which resulted in a unique brand of desperate laughter.
“Are you mental? He’s in the top three with you and Charlie.” George said with full confidence, and both Fred and Percy turned bright pink—though the latter was more due to giggling.
“I just don’t see it,” Fred muttered.
“Did you get the soles of his feet yet?” George gave him a look and Percy squeaked, trying to free his feet with renewed vigor.
“I’ll be honest, I forgot about that. Thank you.” Fred adjusted his grip, ending Percy’s hope for escape.
“You’re welcome. It’s important to be thorough. Don’t you agree, Percy?” George smirked.
“N-Nohoho!” He tried to twist out of the chair, but George wouldn’t let him.
“Well, that kind of mindset will only get you into trouble. Are you not thorough in your Ministry work?” Fred’s fingers hovered above Percy’s soles, sweeping in close and wiggling threateningly but never striking.
“Fred, please. Don’t do it. I’ll do the dishes for a week. For both of you. Please.” Percy kept trying to pull his legs away, knowing from experience exactly how badly this would tickle.
“Begging already?” Fred beamed.
“Sounds like something a three would say.” George said and Fred laughed over Percy’s indignant squawk.
“Now I see it. He’s definitely a top three. I mean, watch,” Fred said, and with one finger he ever-so-gently scratched at the ball of Percy’s right foot and he screamed.
“All it takes is one finger to break him. Incredible.” Fred moved his blunt nail in maddening patterns, sending tickly shocks through his entire nervous system. He could feel it everywhere, maddeningly light and impossibly powerful. When Percy tried to kick free and earned more ruthless focus on those spots as a reward.
“Ihi hahate bohoth of yohou! Stohop! Ahaha, Pleahase!” He threw his head back, which was really inconvenient, as he gave George complete access to the front of his neck and underneath his chin.
Eventually, Fred tickled Percy's right foot while George tickled Percy's left foot for three whole minutes; first on his soles, then his heels, before finally getting to his instep.
Their ticklish strokes were feathery light and quickened with enthusiasm. Fred and George were dominating Percy with tickles at a steady pace.
HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! OH, YOU "EEHEEHEEEVIL," "EEHEEHEEHEEVIL…" SQUEAK GAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!
Fred was far more liberal with his technique. He ran his fingers up and down Percy’s sole, from his heel to the base of his toes and back again. Percy knew not which style tickled more, only that his body was quickly being taken over by the sensations. He squealed with laughter. His feet flailed and curled. He writhed every which way he could in reaction to the tickles filling his body, none of which helped in setting him free from the tickling twins.
Fred added his other hand to Percy’s foot. One scribbled up beneath his toes while the other clawed at Percy's heel and arch. George's technique was to hold Percy's foot steady while unleashing highly concentrated bursts of tickles all over his foot, exploring every inch of the delicate sole. He scribbled his nails against each of his toes, making sure to savor the changes in his laughter as he moved down the row.
“Staaaaahhhahahahahp!! Oh gaaahahahahahahahaad!!!” Percy squealed. His laughter broke through his voice. He bounced and pulled to the impulsive reactions to the tickles raging through him.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle…” George chanted.
“He’s looking rather red.” Fred pinched one of Percy’s toes and he giggled tiredly.
“I suppose we have the data we need.” George ran a finger down Percy’s foot before relenting entirely.
“Percy, take a nap. You’re no use to anyone when you’re tired and cranky.” Fred gave Percy’s knee a squeeze and he yelped, but instead of pulling his knees to his chest, he threw an arm over his forehead.
“Speaking of which, is Ron asleep?” George patted Percy on the head.
“He normally takes his naps around now, yes.” Fred raised an eyebrow, waiting for George to clue him in.
“What if we cut the line a smidge and do some preliminary research?” George wiggled his fingers a little and Fred grinned, stretching his fingers.
“Sounds perfect to me.”
They were gone as quickly as they came, chattering excitedly about strategy and their experiment.
Percy flopped onto his bed, already feeling the ache of laughter fade from his lungs. As much as he grumbled, the twins had helped in their own strange way. The levity felt nice in his weary bones.
He drifted off rather quickly, dreaming of Quidditch captains and giggles, completely oblivious to Ron’s desperate laughter booming from down the hall.
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