Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10891983.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fantastic_Beasts_and_Where_to_Find_Them_(Movies), Harry_Potter_-_J._K.
      Rowling
  Relationship:
      Original_Percival_Graves/Gellert_Grindelwald
  Character:
      Original_Percival_Graves, Gellert_Grindelwald
  Additional Tags:
      Rape, Underage_Sex, Underage_Rape/Non-con, Grooming, Blow_Jobs, Non-
      Consensual_Blow_Jobs, Come_Swallowing, Humiliation, Crying, Power
      Dynamics, Kissing, Non-Consensual_Alcohol_Use, Underage_Drinking, Drunk
      Sex, Manipulation, Manipulative_Relationship, Emotional/Psychological
      Abuse, Isolation, Sexual_Coercion, Vulnerability, Rough_Oral_Sex, First
      Time, First_Kiss, grandparent_death, Wakes_&_Funerals, Exams, Bad
      Parenting, unreasonable_expectations, Arguing, Hugs, Ice_Cream, Teacher-
      Student_Relationship, Not_A_Happy_Ending, Alternate_Universe_-_School,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Dead_Dove:_Do_Not_Eat
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-13 Words: 9505
****** In the Company of Wolves ******
by MercurialTenacity
Summary
     It takes less than a week for Percival’s life to fall apart. He was
     an honors student, but his grades are dropping and the only thing his
     parents care about are his test scores. Percival doesn’t know what to
     do. He gets called into Director Grindelwald’s office and he expects
     the worst, but Grindelwald is… nice. Maybe it’s a little weird, but
     Percival comes to rely on Grindelwald more and more. He trusts him.
     He doesn’t know what he’d do without him. And when he’s alone, when
     he has nowhere left to go, it’s Grindelwald he turns to.
Notes
     This story is based on this_post by fantastic-beasts-smut
     (spoilers!), and I cannot over state how much I love it. Thank you
     for such an incredible idea!
     This is straight up underage non-con, so please know what you’re
     getting into. Percival is a fifteen year old student, and Grindelwald
     is the director of his school.
See the end of the work for more notes
It takes less than a week for Percival’s life to fall apart.  Not that it was
perfect before, but it was pretty all right.  He’s an honors student at
Ilvermorny Academy and he has a big exam coming up, one of those aptitude tests
that supposed to tell you how well you’re going to do in life.  He’s been
studying for it for a month, they all have.  Every night after school, on the
weekends, putting every spare moment into study groups with friends because
he’s determined to ace it.  He’s not nervous exactly, but he takes it
seriously.  He knows how important school is, and he knows how important this
test is.  It’s a firm sort of resolve that drives him forward.
Then his grandfather dies.
They were never all that close.  He was a nice enough man, and he always sent
birthday cards with checks.  He had some important job in the government, but
Percival never really understood what it was.  He was always a little distant. 
Percival liked him well enough.
He misses school on Friday for the funeral.  There are a lot of people, people
he’s never met.  He’s never seen his grandmother’s house so full.  He mingles
in with the crowd, but somehow still feels a little removed from it all.  He’s
not all that sad, and he doesn’t know these people.  He tries to think through
his study notes in his head, but people he’s never met keep telling him how
sorry they are.  It’s weird, and he wishes they could go home.  He’s sad for
his father and grandmother, of course, but it sort of disorienting to be
comforted for the loss of someone he barely knew.
Percival is glad when everybody else leaves.  The house quiets down and he
helps his mother and aunt with cleaning up so that his grandmother doesn’t have
to.  It’s nice to have something to do, even if he’s not really thrilled about
the cleaning itself.
His father sits up all night in his grandmother’s parlor with brandy.  He
doesn’t get drunk all that often, but Percival never enjoys it when he does. 
He has a feeling that tonight is going to be worse than usual.  Mostly Percival
avoids him, but he has to go through the parlor to get to bed.  He tries to
skate through quickly, but he doesn’t make it.  His father grabs his arm and
pulls him aside.  He tells him how much it means that Percival is so promising,
how important it is, that he’s his grandfather’s legacy and he’s got to get it
right.  It looks like his father might cry, and it’s unnerving.  Percival
doesn’t say anything.  He just nods until his father lets go of his arm to pour
another drink.
His father works for the FBI, which you’d think would be pretty cool, having a
superspy for a dad.  But it’s really just like not having a dad all that much. 
He works late and when he comes home he’s exhausted.  He usually just eats
dinner and goes to bed.  Percival sees him on the weekend sometimes, but
sometimes he works then too.  Now his father just looks exhausted, staring into
space with a glass in his hand, and his words echo in Percival’s head.  He
isn’t sure what it means to be someone’s legacy.
When Percival gets home on Sunday he falls asleep on his bed without even
opening his schoolbooks.
On Monday he bombs the test.
He’s knows he’s failed as soon as he puts the pencil down.  When he gets it
back a week later he shreds it.  It doesn’t want to look at it, or think about
it, or risk any of his friends finding out.  There’s no way he’s letting his
parents see it.
He knows his friends did well.  They always do, and he was supposed to also. 
His teacher starts talking about preparing for what comes after school and
Percival doesn’t get it, they’re only in eighth grade.  But she seems serious,
she says they have to decide on a goal and choose the right classes, or else
they won’t be able to make it after graduation.  Percival tries not to think
about the test score which already says he won’t make it after graduation.
His friends drink it all up.  They’re excited.  Sera is going to be a
politician, and Tina wants to be a detective.  Percival is supposed to work in
the government.  It's what his family does.  He lays awake at night trying to
picture it.  He thinks about himself doing his father's job, or his
grandfather's.  Working nights and weekends.  Shaking people's hands and
signing papers.  He rolls over in bed and stares at the wall, pulling the
blankets up over his shoulders.
He can't explain the sinking, tight feeling in his chest that it gives him to
his friends, so he doesn't try.  It's all they want to talk about when they
study or hang out, so he starts to study alone.
He gets a C on his next paper.  He doesn't understand it.  He's supposed to be
good at this.  His teacher asks him to stay after, and she asks him if he's all
right, and if there's anything bothering him.  He looks up at her, backback
slung over one shoulder, and can't figure out how to say that she’s bothering
him when she talks about planning his entire future at fifteen.  So he says no.
He spends his lunch period in the library trying to correct the mistakes in his
paper.  It doesn't matter, he already got the grade and he can’t change it, but
he thinks that maybe, if he can get it right even for himself, he'll feel
better.  The words blur in front of his eyes and he suddenly can't remember a
single fact about American literature.  He wads up the paper and throws it in
the trash.
Yeah, his parents are gonna find out.  He never really thought he could keep it
from them, he just… didn't want to talk about it.  But then the school calls
because apparently his behavior is “concerning,” and yeah, they know.  And they
are concerned.  They're concerned about his future, that he's not taking things
seriously, that he's not applying himself.  They’re not concerned about him. 
“So what if I'm not,” he asks, and oh boy was it ever the wrong thing to say.
He spends more time studying than ever.  He locks himself in the library,
surrounds himself with books and papers, and takes the most comprehensive notes
he ever has in his life.  When he looks back at them later he can’t figure out
what they mean.  None of it makes a difference.  So he stops.
He's pretty sure his grades are irretrievably bad by the time he gets called
into the director’s office.  After all, why else would he want to see him? 
Ilvermorny Academy requires good grades.  They don't expel people for flunking,
but they do recommend they find an “alternative situation.”  They strongly
recommend.  He figures that's what this is.
He waits outside Director Grindelwald’s office with his backpack at his feet,
messing with a loose thread on his sweater.  He winds it around his finger
until he feels the circulation start to go.  He unwinds it, tugs on it, and
winds it again.  He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell his parents.  His
entire family has graduated from Ilvermorny.  His grandfather certainly had. 
There’d never been any question that it was where he would go, and now he’s
going to get thrown out.  Maybe the school will call them, and save Percival
having to say it himself.
The door opens and Director Grindelwald himself steps out to summon Percival
inside.  His finger is caught in the string and shit, shit, he yanks it free
hastily as he picks up his backpack.
“Come in, Percival.”
Percival follows Grindelwald inside and takes in the elegant office as he
lowers himself into a chair.  He's never been in here before.  Everything is
polished, expensive but not like – not showing off, not like some people.  If
Percival had to guess, he’d say most of the stuff was here because Grindelwald
actually liked it. 
He looks back to Grindelwald.  He’s sitting behind his desk, watching Percival
as though he hasn’t quite made up his mind about something.
“Do you know why you’re here, Percival?” he asks finally.
Percival shrugs, a little warily.  He knows better than to answer questions
like that.  Grindelwald leans back in his chair and Percival drops his gaze
down to the desk.  He stares at the little plaque on the edge, reading Gellert
Grindelwald, Director of Ilvermorny Academy for Gifted Students.  Gifted. 
Yeah, right.
“It's because I'm concerned about you.”
Percival's eyes flick up quickly, searching for the placation he's grown
accustomed to.  He doesn't see it.
“My grades…” he mutters.
“Not your grades.  You.”
Percival stares.  He wasn't entirely aware there was a difference.
Something changes in Grindelwald’s face, and Percival can't place it, but he
realizes Grindelwald is being absolutely sincere.  It's weird.
“Your behavior recently Percival, is not the behavior of a young man who is
well.  And if this is the case, I would not being doing my job if I didn’t
express my concern to you.  You have great potential, that's why you're here.”
Percival barely stops himself from rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, I know.”  And
then, after a moment, “Sir.”
“Has someone said that to you before?”
Percival does roll his eyes then, and he sighs in annoyance.  “Only just about
every day.  More since they stopped believing it.”  Percival pauses.  He isn't
sure why he said that last part out loud.
“Hmm.  What do you believe?”
Percival shrugs.  “I dunno,” he says, not meeting Grindelwald's gaze.  He
crosses his arms a bit defensively, but he tells himself it's because
Grindelwald's office is cold.
“And your friends?”
Percival doesn't even know how to start on that one.  It turns out his friends
don't have a lot of time for an ex-honors student whose GPA would be enough to
sink a tanker.  “Busy.”
Grindelwald nods.  “You don't have tell to me about what's on your mind,
Percival.  But it's very difficult to go through life without talking at all. 
Do you have anyone…?”
Percival is silent, staring down at the shiny plaque.
“A teacher, perhaps?”
He shakes his head.
“I see.  Well, in that case, I can send a recommendation for a counselor to
your parents -”
Percival's head shoots up.  “A counselor?  What kind of counselor?”
“A psychologist.  A professional, who will be able to help you address the
issues weighing on you.”
“A therapist,” Percival says disbelievingly.  That is the last thing he needs,
for his parents to get a recommendation from his school that he go to therapy. 
“Look, sir…”  Grindelwald is watching him, listening.  “I don't need therapy.”
Grindelwald considers him, but Percival is resolute.  After a moment,
Grindelwald sighs.  “Very well.  I won't make you do anything you don't want
to.  But I would like to meet with you weekly, for a while.” He smiles slightly
at Percival's creased brow.  “For my own peace of mind.  The wellbeing of
students at this school is my most important task.”
Percival nods because yeah, whatever, he's just relieved to have talked
Grindelwald out of telling his parents to send him to fucking therapy.  He
doesn't really want to meet with Grindelwald again, but it's a half hour out of
his day, it's fine.
“Very well.  Back to class with you now.”
Percival wastes no time with the dismissal.
 
                   ----------------------------------------
 
His next meeting with Grindelwald dispenses with some of the awkwardness. 
Percival’s life hasn’t gotten any better, so he doesn’t figure he has much to
lose by sitting in the director’s office.  There were rumors that went around
about Grindelwald, like there were for all the teachers, but more so for him
since people don’t see him all that much.  Last Percival remembers, people were
saying that he was part of some international conspiracy against the working
class.  Sitting in Grindelwald’s office, Percival doesn’t know how anyone could
believe that.  He’s rich, sure, but he’s not nearly as stuck up about it as
half Percival’s classmates are.  He’d seemed a little weird the first time they
met, but if Percival’s being honest with himself, he knows he’s been a bit
defensive lately.
When he sits down in front of Grindelwald’s desk the man smiles kindly, and
asks how Percival’s week has been.  Percival doesn’t quite know what goes
through his head.  He knows the answer to that question.  His week has been
fine.  It’s been pretty good.
“It sucked.”
It had, though.  The more his grades drop the less he seems to care, which only
makes his grades worse, and he feels guilty about all of it.  Nothing he tries
to do to distract himself seems to be working.  He can't focus on the TV for
more than ten minutes, he can't finish a book for the life of him, and there's
nothing to do at home.  He doesn't have anyone to go out and do things with
anymore, and it's just depressing to go out alone.  So yeah.  It sucked.
“I'm sorry to hear that.”  Grindelwald… really does sound sorry.  Percival
frowns.  He shouldn’t have said it, but he can’t take it back now.
“I mean, it’s whatever.”
“It doesn’t sound that way.  If you’re not feeling good about yourself, or if
there’s anyone making you feel bad, that’s not something you deserve.” 
Grindelwald’s voice is gentle, considerate.  “Is there anyone like that,
Percival?”
Percival scuffs his shoes on the floor before he stops abruptly.  “Well yeah,
but like… I dunno.”  Grindelwald waits for him.  “My friends, I guess.  They’re
just like, busy or whatever, studying.”
“Do you know why they don’t want you studying with them?”
Percival shakes his head.  “It’s not like that, they just…”  Well, it’s kind of
like that.  They get frustrated with him when he’s not keeping up, and they
don’t really want him around if he doesn’t want to start studying to get into
an Ivy League in eighth grade.  “They think I’m not taking things seriously, I
guess.  They just want to get into good schools, like their parents want.”
Grindelwald nods, understanding.  “Is that what your parents want?”
“Yeah.”  Percival is nodding, picking up momentum a bit now.  “They think the
only important things are grades and careers, and they don’t care about
anything else.  My dad just wants me to be like my grandfather, and I don’t
even know what my grandfather did.  I’m supposed to be some perfect copy or
something.”
“He doesn’t see you.”
“Just the numbers on my report card.  That’s all anyone sees.”
“That’s not true.”  Percival looks up quickly, finding Grindelwald’s eye.  “I
see a great deal more than that.  You’re a very talented young man, but you
deserve to use that talent in a way which you enjoy.”  Grindelwald leans
forward, resting his elbows in the edge of his desk.  He holds Percival’s gaze
steady, open and honest.  “There’s a lot more to you than numbers, my boy.”
It’s easy after that.  Grindelwald is sympathetic and understanding, and it’s
easy for Percival to tell him his life.  He talks about the pressure he feels,
that no one notices, how his friends don’t feel any pressure at all. 
Grindelwald agrees with him and validates him.  Percival thinks maybe
Grindelwald felt the same way at some point too.  He doesn’t know how else
Grindelwald could understand so exactly, and it’s reassuring.  Percival
explains everything and Grindelwald nods and hums in all the right places, asks
the right questions, and for the first time in maybe ever Percival feels
heard.  They talk so long it runs halfway through Percival’s chemistry class,
but Grindelwald gives him a note to skip the period.  Percival usually sits
next to Sera in that class anyway, and he can’t stand the tension these days,
so he grins as Grindelwald signs the slip.
“Will you be all right this week?” Grindelwald asks him, frowning a bit with
concern.
“Yeah, I…”  Percival catches Grindelwald’s expression, and he hesitates.  He
feels better now, a lot better.  But he thinks about the week ahead, about
going home to his parents and the strained questions over dinner before he can
escape to his room, the weekend he’ll spend alone, and the three days of
classes he has left before then… he shrugs.
Grindelwald looks as though he’s debating something, and it’s a moment before
he speaks again.  When he does it’s with a slow sort of caution, as though he
wants to be sure Percival understands.  “Now, Percival.  I wouldn’t usually do
this, but I think you’re responsible enough that it’s all right.”  He plucks a
business card from the holder on his desk and flips it over, uncapping a pen to
write something on the back.  He hands it to Percival.  “I want you to let me
know how you are over the next few days.  I know it’s difficult.  I do.”  He
gives a wry smile.  “But I want you to know that you’re not alone right now.”
Percival turns the card over in his hands.  A phone number, in Grindelwald’s
thin, even pen strokes.  Percival nods.  “Yeah, I – okay.”  His throat is
strangely tight, and he feels like the card somehow weighs more than it
should.  He tucks in into his pocket, double checking that it’s secure.
“I mean it.”  Grindelwald rises to get the door for Percival, pausing with his
hand on the knob.  “And if anyone acts as though you are less than the
brilliant, charming young man you are, they’re not someone who truly cares
about you.”
Percival feels himself flushing with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, and
he stammers out a farewell as he leaves the office.
He sits in the hall outside his history class, the next one after chemistry. 
The hallway is almost eerily empty during the period, and Percival holds his
slip from Grindelwald ready in case he’s questioned.  He leans back against the
wall, backpack squashed behind him and providing a bit of a cushion, save for
all the textbooks.
He tugs the business card out of his pocket, careful not to let the corners get
bent, and turns it over and over in his hands.  It has the school motto on it,
and Percival makes a face.  He somehow can’t imagine Grindelwald putting it on
his card himself if it weren’t some sort requirement.  The dark pen strokes
keep catching his eye against the heavy cream.  He doesn’t know what he’s
feeling exactly.  He has someone to talk to.  Finally.  Someone who
understands.  And Grindelwald’s doing way more than he has to for Percival. 
It’s above and beyond to give Percival his phone number, and Percival feels a
sort of pride at his trust.  Grindelwald had said he was responsible enough to
handle it, and he is.
He pulls out his phone and saves the number.
 
                   ----------------------------------------
 
It’s not that night but the next that he practically bolts up the stairs after
dinner, slams his door harder than he means to and hard enough that he hears
his father shout from downstairs, and lands on his bed in a shaking ball of
frustration and undirected energy.  He doesn’t want to go to a fucking Ivy
League.  He doesn’t.  He can’t even articulate why, but he can’t stand the
thought.  It makes him burn all over to hear his father talk about it like it’s
already decided, and what if he just fails all his exams, what then.  He’s
shaking, he doesn’t want to sit still but he can’t come up with any way to
move.  His phone is jabbing into his hip as he lays on his pillow and he pulls
it out of his pocket, about to shove it into the bedside drawer before
something makes him pause.  He unlocks it and opens up his contacts, scrolling
down to G.
“Hi Mr Grindelwald,” he writes, “its Percival”
He erases it.  That sounds stupid.
“This is Percival, you said I should tell you if” –
Fuck.
“My dad wont stop talking about Dartmouth.  I dont want to go but he doesnt
listen.  I just wanted to tell you I guess”
He hits send before he can stop himself, and then chucks his phone across the
room into his laundry pile before burying his head in his pillow.
Two and a half minutes later the phone buzzes.  Percival tries to tell himself
he wasn’t waiting for it, but he dashes across the room and digs through his
old T-shirts so quickly that he’s not even fooling himself.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.  Dartmouth is a fine school, but I can’t picture
you there.”  And a moment later, “I’m glad you told me.  Remember that you
don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Thats not what it feels like” Percival texts back bitterly.  He’s hunched on
the floor, back against his dresser and a nervousness rising in his chest.
“I know.  It will get better once you’re away from your parents more.  They
don’t have as much say as you think they do.”
Percival sighs.  He can’t wait to be away from his parents.  He’s about to
reply when another message pops up.
“Where are you now?”
“My room”
“Are you safe from your parents?”
It’s a strange word to use, safe.  Percival shifts a little, uncomfortable with
the idea that he wouldn’t be safe.  But he is.
“Yah”
“You’re upset.” Well, yeah.  He’s upset.  His whole future is being planned for
him right before his eyes.  “What would make you more comfortable?”
And if he knew that, why would he be texting Grindelwald?
“I dunno”
It’s a lot longer before Grindelwald texts him again.  It’s really only a
couple minutes, but as Percival watches the little clock in the corner of his
phone it feels like forever.  He drapes his wrist over his knee, phone clutched
in his hand, trying to pretend he’s not staring at it.
When Grindelwald’s reply finally lights up the screen Percival almost jumps,
leaning forward and heart flooding with relief.
“It’s all right, you deserve to relax.  Why don’t you get ready for bed?”
Percival frowns for a moment.  It’s a little early, but… well, why not. 
Pajamas would be more comfortable anyway, and wrapping up in the blankets and
pillows on his bed sounds nice.
“K”
Percival roots through his dresser until he finds the pajama pants he’s looking
for.  He pulls them on, discarding his jeans and shirt on top of the rest of
the laundry, and heads down the hall to the bathroom.
By the time he’s crawling into bed he wonders whether he should text
Grindelwald again.  He feels like it might be weird.  Does Grindelwald really
want to keep hearing from him?  But when he picks up his phone the blue light
blinking in the corner tells him he already has a message.  It’s from
Grindelwald, three minutes ago.
“How are you feeling?  Better?”
Percival smiles, not entirely sure why.
“Yah”He replies.  “A bit better :)” And after a moment, “Bit tired”
“Good.  I’m glad you reached out to me Percival.” And then, “Are you in bed?”
“Yah” Percival says again.  “Just turned out the lights” He isn’t quite sure
why he adds that, except that it feels a little different texting Grindelwald
in the dark.  It’s like there’s a barrier between him and the rest of the
world, and the only thing on the other side of it with him is the glow of his
screen, and Grindelwald.
“Wearing something comfortable?”
“My favorite pajamas.  Theyre green, pretty soft” Percival is glad they’re
clean tonight.  They really are his favorites, warm and a little fuzzy, with
dinosaurs.  Grindelwald doesn’t need to know about that part.  And then, a bit
defensively, “I got them a while ago”
His heart beats a little too quickly in his chest before he gets the reply
“That sounds nice.”
“Yah :)”And, because it feels only fair, “What are u doing?”
“Spending the evening in.  Catching up on some reading.”
Percival has the mental image of Grindelwald in a silk dressing gown with his
feet propped up in front of a hearth, book held in one hand.  He snorts with a
huff of laughter at the idea of actually reading for fun.  “Sounds nice.  Sorry
to bother you”
The reply is instantaneous this time.  “You’re not.”
Percival hides his smile in the pillow.
He falls asleep like that, texting Grindelwald about little things, answering
his questions and grinning sleepily each time Grindelwald compliments him.  His
eyes are heavy, starting to burn with the late hour, and he lets them slide
closed.  He’ll just rest until Grindelwald replies again.  He’s asleep too soon
to remember the phone sliding from his grip.
Somehow Grindelwald never seems too busy to respond to Percival's texts.  In
fact he checks in on Percival all the time, asking how his day went and what
he's thinking about.  It's amazing and it's overwhelming, and Percival finds
himself waiting through every other conversation he has for his phone to buzz. 
When he's talking to Grindelwald any answer he gives end up correct.  He just
has to be honest and say what he's thinking and Grindelwald will understand. 
It takes Percival a while to trust that Grindelwald really means it, and that
he's not patronizing him and doesn't see Percival as a nuisance like everyone
else does.  But Grindelwald sees Percival as a person, not a grade producing
machine or a politician to be or a study partner to hold the flash cards. 
Grindelwald laughs with him and sympathizes with him, and Graves doesn't know
where he would be without him.
He just… can’t think of a way to explain it without it sounding weird.  When
his mother asks who he’s texting so much he says Sera, and he doesn’t see Sera
often enough anymore for her to ask.  He doesn’t tell anyone because seriously,
what would he say?  That he’s friends with the director of the school and
Percival doesn’t want to fall asleep at night without texting him?  So, yeah,
it is weird, and Percival doesn’t entirely have it under control, but he loves
it.  Having Grindelwald’s attention is overwhelming.  When Grindelwald talks to
him it’s like there’s nothing else in the world, nothing that compares to
having the weight of this man’s attention.  It makes Percival feel unique. 
Special.  Wanted.  Every time Grindelwald texts him he gets a rush of
excitement, and maybe it’s weird, but Grindelwald is his anchor.
 
                   ----------------------------------------
 
Then his report card comes out.  He’d been ready to intercept it, had three
different excuses for why he didn’t have it, but his mother picks it up from
the office.  And there’s nothing he can do about that.  She’s waiting in the
kitchen with the envelope in her hand when Percival gets home, and the tight
line of her mouth tells him instantly that something’s wrong.  She holds up the
piece of paper and he closes his eyes.
“Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell us, Percival?”
He doesn’t know what to say.  He stands there in the kitchen doorway, backpack
still in hand, and sways on the spot.
“Just last night your father asked you how your grades were.  You told him they
were fine.”
Percival makes a halfhearted attempt to mutter “It is fine,” but his mother
doesn’t give him the chance.
“This says you’re failing chemistry.  Is that true?”
“Yeah.”  Percival stares at his mother’s shoes.
“How dare you?”  How dare he what, fail chemistry?  It wasn’t exactly hard to
do.  “How dare you lie to your father?  We have given you every opportunity,
every advantage, and this is what you do?”
“Yeah,” he says again.  There’s nothing else to say.  It’s not like it was a
choice to be a failure, but he doesn’t know how to explain that.
His mother stares at him in disbelief.  “Go upstairs.  Go wait in your room
until your father gets home and you can tell it to him.”
So Percival goes.  He feels almost numb as he climbs the stairs, but there’s an
undercurrent of seething, helpless frustration that makes his skin crawl.  He
has nowhere to direct it, nothing to do.  His parents don’t give a shit and
they don’t understand any of it.
He throws his backpack onto the bed, and it bounces before tipping over on its
side.  Percival sinks down until he’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the
side of his bed with his head in his hands.  It’s going to get so much worse. 
Once his father comes home it will be so much worse.  There are tremors in his
hands and he balls them into fists to stop it.  He was getting better.  His
grades were still shit, but talking with Grindelwald made him feel like a
person again, and he was getting better.  If report cards had come out in a
month he probably would have improved by then, but they came out now and now
his parents hate him, and he’s back to being only as good as some stupid test
says.  And it says he’s shit.
He thinks about texting Grindelwald, but he doesn’t know what to say.  My
parents think I’m a failure?  My dad is probably going to kill me?  I fucked
up?  None of that is exactly new, and it makes him feel sick to think about
saying it.  So he sits on the floor and he waits, stomach churning, for his
father’s car to pull into the driveway.  He doesn’t want any of this to be
happening.
When he hears the car door slam and his father coming into the house he closes
his eyes.  There are muted voices downstairs, harsh tones that Percival doesn’t
want to hear.
“He’s WHAT?”
Percival flinches at his father’s raised voice.  There are heavy footsteps, and
then his father shouts up the stairs.
“Percival!  Get down here and explain this to me!”
The walk through the hall and down the stairs is worse than he thought. 
Standing in the kitchen is a living hell.  His report card is worse than he
thought.  Chemistry, geometry, history… his heart sinks.  His father is
furious. 
“This is unacceptable!  What is the meaning of this Percival, how did you let
this happen?” his father demands.
Percival shakes his head, feeling like he’s about to burst.  He can’t give him
an explanation.
“Is it your friends?  Are you spending all your time partying, is that it?”
“No,” he snaps.  He can’t hold it in. “I don’t have any friends!  They all hate
me now!”
“Then what’s the problem?  Why aren’t you studying?”
Percival stares at his father in disbelief.  He looks to his mother and finds
nothing of comfort.
“You have to learn to make sacrifices for what you want if you expect to get
anywhere!  How do you think I got where I am today?  How do you think your
grandfather did it?”
“I don’t care how he did it!  I don’t care!”  All of the anger, all of the
confusion and doubt that Percival has been feeling is rising to the surface. 
He knows he shouldn’t say it, he knows it will only make things worse, but he
can’t stop.  “I don’t even know what grandfather did!  He could barely remember
my name!  Why would I want to be like him?”
Percival can see the anger swelling up in his father, and he knows he went too
far.  “Your grandfather,” he hisses, “was an incredible man.  He cared for this
family a great deal, and he could not have asked for a worse grandson in
return.”
The words reverberate through Percival’s chest like a shockwave.  He’s burning
all over, he wants to scream back but the words are caught in his throat and he
can’t make sound.  He feels helpless, powerless, and all he wants to do is
shoot back in kind.
“Fuck you,” he chokes, “fuck you and fuck him!”
His father’s face is turning a deep red.
“Percival.”  His mother’s voice is cold.  “Go to your room this instant.”
Percival wants to scream, but he turns on his heel and slams his bedroom door
hard enough to make his furniture rattle.
There are hot, messy tears running down his face and he doesn’t remember when
he started crying, but he can’t stop.  He grabs unseeingly for his phone
because he needs help, he needs someone to help him, he needs –
“I dont know what to do my parents hate me im worthless”
A teardrop falls on his phone screen distorting the pixels under it, and he
wipes it away harshly.  The seconds it takes to get a reply feel like hours.
“You’re not worthless.  What happened?”
Percival fires off messages in quick succession.
“I dont know”
“I cant do it”
“They hate me they saw my report card”
“I dont know what to do”
Grindelwald’s reply isn’t what he expects, but it might be what he needs.
“Do you want me to pick you up?”
Percival’s choking on sobs but for a moment he stops breathing, nervousness
fighting with frustration and despair for space in his chest.
“Ok”
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”
The tears are still falling, but there’s relief too.  Grindelwald will come get
him.  Grindelwald will know what to do.  Percival won’t have to face this
alone.
Percival tries not to count, but it’s eleven minutes until Grindelwald texts
“I’m out front.”
He’s mostly stopped crying, but it’s replaced with an empty sort of aching
hollowness which might just be worse.  He scrubs his face roughly and grabs his
jacket from the floor, tugging it on as he runs downstairs.  He avoids the
kitchen, and if his parents notice him he’s out the door before they have a
chance to stop him.
Percival runs to meet Grindelwald at the curb before he really takes it in. 
Percival’s family is well off and what his father drives is nice, but it’s
nothing compared Grindelwald’s car.  Cautiously, Percival opens the passenger
side door and leans down.  Grindelwald is there, smiling kindly at him.
“It’s all right my boy, get in.”
The last of Percival’s hesitations disappear and he slides into the leather
seat, shutting the door behind him.  Grindelwald pulls away from the curb
smoothly, and Percival leans back.  He’s still trembling a little, trying to
keep more tears from spilling over, and Grindelwald pulls them around the
corner before he stops the car again, idling the engine and twisting in his
seat to place a hand on Percival’s shoulder.
“Your parents don’t value you the way that I do, and I am so sorry for that. 
You need to remember what’s really important.”
Percival’s eyes are on the glow of the buttons on Grindelwald’s dashboard, just
starting to light up as the sun is setting.
“You’re a bright young man, and soon enough it won’t matter what misguided and
selfish ideas your parents have for you.”
“What if they’re right?” Percival asks in a small, strained voice.  “What if I
really am a failure.”
“Because of your grades?”
Percival nods.
Grindelwald’s eyes are filled with concern and sympathy, and it eases something
in Percival’s chest.  “Grades are a terrible way to get the measure of
someone.  They don’t even show how well you know the material my boy, they only
show how well you take tests.  It may not feel like it now, but if you open up
your mind there is so much more to life than tests.”
Percival is fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.  He wants to believe what
Grindelwald says, but…  “Then why can’t my parents see that?”
Grindelwald’s sigh is filled with regret.  “People see what they want to see. 
Some people never look outside of the narrow world they live in, and they miss
so much.  But you, Percival.”  Grindelwald’s gaze is intense, his tone urgent. 
“You don’t have to.  All right?”
Percival nods, feeling just a little lighter.  His parents may never
understand, but that doesn’t mean he has to hold himself back.  Everyone else
can buy into whatever lie they like, but he and Grindelwald know better.
“Now, let's move on from other people's small mindedness.”  Grindelwald puts
the car in gear, and Percival relaxes back into the seat as they leave the
neighborhood.
They don’t talk much, and that’s all right.  Percival doesn’t really want to
recount what happened, he just wants to feel safe.  He leans his head against
the window and lets himself be lulled by the streetlamps flashing past
overhead.  He realizes at some point that he doesn’t know where they’re going,
but he trusts Grindelwald to make it all right.
When Grindelwald pulls off the highway it's to park along a street downtown,
about a block up from where Percival can see tents and colorful lights.  The
sun has just about set, and it's lighting up the sky a brilliant orange and
pink between the buildings, lending a sort of quixotic ambience to the scene
ahead.  Percival has never been to a street fair at night.  It’s not the sort
of thing he would have done with his friends, and his parents probably wouldn’t
see the point.  But there are people milling about, wandering from stall to
stall and talking excitedly with music somewhere in the distance, and Percival
can smell food being fried.
He walks with Grindelwald past the stalls, taking in the wide array of things
for sale.  There’s jewelry, intricate woodwork, baked goods that make his mouth
water and remind him acutely that he hasn’t eaten dinner.  Grindelwald seems to
know what he’s thinking.  He buys Percival crepes, chocolate.  Anything he
wants to feel more comfortable.  Some of the stalls have games, like the kind
you’d find at a carnival, and Percival plays until he’s laughing and has an
armful of little plush creatures as prizes.  With anyone else he’d be self-
conscious, worried about what people would think of him, but not with
Grindelwald.  With Grindelwald, he can just have fun.  He can let go of the
worry, the ache of other people’s disappointment, because Grindelwald is
right.  Other people don’t understand, and Percival can’t let them hold him
back.
Grindelwald pays attention only to Percival, lavishing him with praise and
affection, and it’s not long before the fight with his parents has passed out
of Percival’s head.  He feels so much better with Grindelwald, loving the noise
of the crowd in the gathering darkness and the way Grindelwald looks at him as
though he’s the most important thing.  The lights and talk and laughter all
blend together and lull him into a comfortable, easy contentment.  It feels
like he’s stepped into a world where none of his problems exist.  Everything he
says feels right, and he’s so relaxed.
They’re eating ice cream, watching the crowd stream past, when Percival gets
quiet.  Grindelwald notices, he cares so much, and Percival can tell he’s
waiting for him to speak.  He stares down into his bowl, mashing at his ice
cream with his spoon.
“Why are you doing all this?”  Percival almost expects Grindelwald to brush him
off, to say something about it being his job as director of Ilvermorny to make
sure students are okay, but he doesn’t.
“Because I like you.”  Percival looks up at him, ice cream forgotten.  “Because
I see the potential in you, where no one else does.  You could be a great man,
Percival.”  Grindelwald’s voice is low, sincere.  Percival blushes, ducking his
head down, but he’s smiling.
“Come on.”  Grindelwald wraps and arm around Percival’s shoulders and
squeezes.  “Let’s get you home.”
 
                   ----------------------------------------
 
When Grindelwald parks Percival doesn’t recognize where they are.
“Uh.  This isn’t my –”
“I know.  It’s my house,” Grindelwald says, turning off the engine.  “I just
need to grab something.  You can come in if you want to, but if you wait in the
car I won’t be long.”  Grindelwald steps out of the car and Percival follows
hastily.
“I-I’ll come.”  Percival has seen Grindelwald’s office of course, but his
house?  How does a man like Grindelwald live?  He’s curious, and he’s calm in
Grindelwald’s presence.  He doesn’t want to wait in the car alone, he’s having
such a nice night.  His house should be a nice place to be too.  Percival has
never been inside a teacher’s house before.  But then again, Grindelwald isn’t
really a teacher.  And right now, he’s more Percival’s friend than anything
else.
Percival stands beside Grindelwald on the front step as he unlocks the door,
and he follows him inside.
The living room beautiful, luxurious and elegant while somehow still feeling
comfortable.  The whole place is spotless, but it feels lived in in a way where
Percival can picture Grindelwald going about his life here.  Grindelwald
gestures him over to the couch, and he sits down while Grindelwald steps out of
the room.
When Grindelwald returns he’s carrying a bottle and two glasses, and he sets
them down on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Drink?”
Percival glances at the bottle, cautious and a little confused.  “I, uh.  I’m
not twenty-one.”
Grindelwald looks at him for a second, then chuckles.  “My boy.  It’s fruit
juice.”
“Oh.”  Percival flushes.  “Sure, I – yeah, thanks.”
Grindelwald fills Percival’s glass with the dark purple juice, and Percival
raises it to his lips to take a sip.  It tastes kind of weird, but it’s good. 
He takes another swallow.  “What kind of juice is this?”
“Grape,” Grindelwald answers, pouring himself the same thing.  He sits on the
couch next to Percival, and it’s nice.  Percival feels comfortable in
Grindelwald’s home.
“I’m very glad to have met you, Percival.  You’re a remarkable boy.”
Percival grins, and he tries to hide it by taking another swallow of juice. 
“I’m really glad I met you too.  No one else understands, and it’s just… really
nice to have someone to talk to.”
Grindelwald smiles in a way that Percival doesn’t quite understand, but then
he’s patting Percival’s shoulder and saying “Always, my boy,” and Percival
feels secure.
They chat and it’s cool.  Grindelwald tells Percival stories from when he was
in school that make the both of them laugh, and Grindelwald laughing is
something Percival will never get tired of seeing.  Percival drains his glass,
and when he reaches forward to set it on the table Grindelwald takes it from
his hand, refilling it.
Before long Percival is feeling warmer, a little light headed and dizzy but so
comfortable snuggled into Grindelwald’s couch.  He’s laughing and laughing, so
happy, he hasn’t felt this good in so long.  Grindelwald is amazing, Percival
has never met anyone like him, and Percival wants to hug him so he does.  He
slides his arms around Grindelwald’s torso, holding him tight and nuzzling his
head into Grindelwald’s chest.  Grindelwald is so warm.  He feels Grindelwald’s
arms around him, holding him, and Grindelwald is smiling.  He rubs Percival’s
back and Percival makes a little, contented noise, basking in the affection. 
He feels so safe, so loved with Grindelwald’s arms around him.  He’s so
comfortable.  So happy.  Grindelwald bends his head down to kiss Percival’s
forehead and Percival grins.  He sighs and squirms closer.
“I like you…” he slurs.  Grindelwald keeps kissing him.  He places soft little
touches of his lips on Percival’s cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose,
and Percival giggles.  It feels so good, and each kiss leave little tingles
behind, make Percival want more and more.  His eyes fall shut and Grindelwald
gently kisses his eyelids before going back to his cheek. 
Percival is smiling, grinning at nothing, when Grindelwald lifts his chin with
a finger and places a soft kiss on his lips.
Percival opens his eyes, and… what?  He… he doesn’t understand.  The room is
spinning slightly and he holds on to Grindelwald for support, and Grindelwald’s
lips are so very close to his own.  Grindelwald kisses him again, slow, gentle,
and it’s nice.  It’s still kissing, not that much different from what
Grindelwald was doing before, but somehow Percival feels as though something’s
shifted out from under him.  It’s not quite like Percival pictured kissing
would be, but he likes it.  He parts his lips just a little and pushes his head
forward as he feels Grindelwald’s tongue on his lips.  It makes Percival’s
mouth go soft and loose, opening up as Grindelwald slips his tongue inside,
licking into his mouth hot, hungry, pushing Percival back into the cushions of
the couch and Percival is whimpering into his mouth.
Grindelwald slows.  He cradles Percival in his arms and the kiss is light
again, warm and wet and good.  Percival likes this better.
“My boy.  Are you okay?”
Percival nods, eyes blown wide and heart beating hard enough he’s sure
Grindelwald can hear it.  There’s a warmth pooling in his abdomen, making him
feel good and relaxed.  Grindelwald kisses him again, deep but slow, tongue
exploring his mouth, and Percival moans into it, letting Grindelwald wrap one
hand around the back of his neck and rest the other on his waist.  Percival
gasps and whines when Grindelwald kisses along the line of his jaw, licking
over his skin and leaving wet patches that go cold when the air touches them. 
He has no idea what’s going on, no frame of reference for this, and it makes
his heart jump in ways he can’t identify.  He knows he’s not supposed to do
this, he knows it should seem wrong.  Grindelwald is three times his age, and
Percival has never... but isn’t it all right if it’s with someone he trusts? 
It feels so strangely good.
That liquid warmth is building in him, spreading through his chest, and
Percival presses up into Grindelwald’s hand caressing his ribs through his
shirt.  Percival isn’t really thinking anymore.  His mind is hazy and slow, and
the way that Grindelwald is touching him seems to make him melt.  Percival has
never been touched like this before.  It’s not just where Grindelwald’s
touching him, but how.  There’s something different in the quality of it, the
way that Grindelwald’s fingers fall on him, that makes his whole body bright.
He goes boneless and pliant when Grindelwald kisses down the sensitive skin of
his neck, making him shiver and gasp and letting himself be molded in whichever
way Grindelwald guides him.  Percival isn’t sure when the fabric of his shirt
got bunched up under his arms, but he keens high and loud when Grindelwald’s
fingers brush over the bare skin of his stomach.
And then his shirt is gone entirely, pulled off over his head and disappearing
somewhere on the floor.  He shivers in the cool air of the living room and
Grindelwald’s hands are all over him, stroking down his sides, up to his neck,
across his chest, caressing his still developing muscles, and it’s so much. 
Grindelwald is kissing all the way down his neck, sucking on his nipples, and
it makes Percival feel funny before Grindelwald’s lips are back covering his
mouth.
Grindelwald’s hands slip down to his waist, his hips.  And then lower, pressing
into the soft skin of his inner thighs, making Percival’s legs tingle. 
Grindelwald spreads his legs apart, and Percival balks.
“Wait – wait, I – wha…”  He’s flushed with pure embarrassment, stammering as
Grindelwald kneels between his thighs, hands still resting close enough to his
groin that Percival is hyperaware of the touch.
Grindelwald is flushed too, but his smile tells Percival it’s not with
embarrassment.  Grindelwald’s fingers close around Percival’s wrist and he
draws his hand forward, bringing it to rest over the bulge at Grindelwald’s
crotch.  Percival can feel Grindelwald’s hard dick under his palm, and his eyes
widen.
“See, my boy?  See what you’re doing to me?” 
Percival didn’t mean to.  Silently, speechless, Percival nods. 
“We’re here because of you.  Didn’t you come to me so that I could take care of
you?  It’s what you wanted.”
Percival can’t remember.  His head is spinning, but he had wanted to be with
Grindelwald, hadn’t he?  He can’t remember exactly what he wanted.  Slowly,
distantly, he nods again.
“This is something people do when they care about each other, Percival.  I care
for you very much, and I thought you cared for me as well.”
Percival can’t come up with an argument against it.  His lips are trembling as
he lies back and Grindelwald spreads his legs, but he does it.  He stares up at
Grindelwald’s ceiling, eyes caught on the crystal chandelier, as Grindelwald
undoes Percival’s belt and trousers.  Grindelwald’s fingers reach to find his
cock and it feels weird to be touched there.  
Percival jolts and moans when Grindelwald rubs the precome around the head of
his dick.  The sensation is like a bolt lancing through him.  He’s touched
himself before, experimented a little, but it didn’t feel anything like this. 
The feeling is replaced with something warm and wet, and oh god, Grindelwald’s
tongue is swirling over the head of his dick.  Percival watches with a sort of
dazed fascination as Grindelwald swallows his cock down easily, and when
Grindelwald sucks it sends a pure liquid pleasure up his spine that drives
everything else from his mind.  Grindelwald swallows, tonguing the underside of
his cock, and Percival’s hips spasm, his legs going limp and hands grasping
desperately at anything he can reach.  He’s crying, moaning, making such
obscene sounds but not half as obscene as the sound of Grindelwald’s throat
around his dick.  He can’t keep his hips still, bucking up and clinging to
Grindelwald’s hair, to the couch cushions, to anything that might anchor him.
The heat is building up inside him, more and more until it's too much to take
and it's rippling out through him, pulsing, and Grindelwald’s hand is on his
cock.  Percival cries out, jerking, and Grindelwald lays his forearm across his
hips to pin him down.  He feels his cock twitching, spurting come across his
stomach in hot streaks, and Grindelwald is smiling hungrily.  Percival
collapses back against the cushions, wrung out and shaking.
“Look at the mess you made.”  Grindelwald trails his fingers across Percival’s
stomach, smearing the cooling come, and Percival looks down at himself.  He
whimpers.  He didn’t mean to.  He feels filthy.  Grindelwald pulls a tissue
from somewhere and wipes it over his stomach, cleaning him up.  Percival
watches him dazedly, feeling oddly helpless as he’s wiped down.  He presses his
lips together and turns to tuck his head in against the pillows and cushions on
the couch.  He wants to curl up and go to sleep.
There are hands under his arms, pulling him up until he's slumped half against
the back of the couch and half against Grindelwald’s chest, his breathing
shallow.  Grindelwald hums and wraps an arm around Percival, holding him in
place while he guides Percival’s hand to his erect cock.  It curves up out of
his trousers and Percival makes a choked little gasp when his hand falls on
it.  He feels the weight of it, the length, the thickness.  It's big.  Bigger
than Percival’s still growing cock, and heavy.  It makes his hand feel small.
“Here,” Grindelwald murmurs, “let me…”  Grindelwald guides his hand to show him
how to rub up and down the shaft, but only for a moment. 
“Hmm.  Come here Percival, open your mouth.”  Grindelwald grunts and pushes on
Percival’s shoulders to reposition him, one hand sliding around the back of his
neck to pull him down.  All at once Percival understands what Grindelwald is
doing and he tenses, shaking his head minutely.
“No?”  Something dark flashes in Grindelwald’s eyes.  “After everything I've
done for you, my boy?”
Percival whimpers.  His eyes fall on Grindelwald’s cock and he can't.  He can't
fit it in his mouth, it's too big, there's no way.  It’s only fair after what
Grindelwald did for him – Grindelwald has done so much for him, he wants to
show Grindelwald how much he cares – but he’ll never manage.  He can’t. 
There’s something curling sickeningly in his chest and he swallows, hard, as
Grindelwald takes him by the back of the neck and forces his head down.  The
head of his cock hits Percival’s lips and Grindelwald’s fingers are at his jaw,
squeezing until Percival’s mouth falls open and Grindelwald forces his cock
inside.
It hits the back of his throat and he gags violently, body convulsing against
Grindelwald’s grip and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe with a cock in his
mouth oh god.  He’s pushing at Grindelwald’s legs, shoving, but it doesn’t do
anything and in the end Percival just clings to the fabric of his pants.
Grindelwald pulls him back, fingers tangled in his hair, and Percival manages
one, two gulps of air before Grindelwald pulls him down again.  Grindelwald’s
hips thrust up into him, forcing his cock down Percival’s throat, filling him
and stretching his mouth painfully wide.  Grindelwald groans with the wet
gurgles he pulls from Percival’s throat.  There are tears streaming down
Percival’s face, thick strands of saliva running down his chin, and there’s
nothing he can do but take it as Grindelwald fucks his throat.
He just wants it to stop. 
Please. 
Please stop. 
He can’t beg, he can’t fight, and his body goes limp. 
When does this end?
The sounds coming out of him are obscene, and he can’t control them at all.  He
didn’t know his body was capable of noises like that.  He can’t do anything,
can only wait while Grindelwald holds his head in place and fucks up into him. 
He just waits for it to end.
When Grindelwald comes he shoves Percival’s head down until his nose is pressed
against his stomach, holding him there, and Percival gags and chokes again as
semen hits the back of his throat, flooding his mouth.  It’s thick and
disgusting and he wants to retch, he doesn’t want it inside him, but he can’t. 
Percival is dizzy with the lack of air when Grindelwald pulls him back, and he
tries to spit out the come still in his mouth.  Grindelwald growls and clamps a
hand over his mouth, other hand at the base of his skull, and Grindelwald’s
come is bitter on his tongue.
“Swallow it,” Grindelwald snarls.  “Swallow it all.”
God help him, Percival has to do it.
It slides backwards down his throat, slick, gross, and he swallows it.
He can’t stop crying.
Grindelwald lets him go and he curls in on himself.  It’s like he can feel
Grindelwald’s come inside him, thick in his stomach, and he hates it.
“That’s it my boy, well done.  You did so well.”  He pets Percival’s hair and
Percival flinches back instinctively, but it makes no difference.  Grindelwald
pulls Percival into his arms, praising him, telling him how good his throat
felt and that everything’s all right.  Percival doesn’t understand.  He’s
tired.  He just wants to go home.  He lies against Grindelwald’s chest until
the tears dry up while Grindelwald rubs his back.
“There.  Not so bad, hm?”
Percival shakes his head.  He’s trembling.
Grindelwald gives him another glass of juice and Percival drinks it in small
sips to sooth his throat, feeling more lightheaded and dizzy than ever. 
Grindelwald takes him out to the car, and Percival doesn’t really remember the
drive.
When Grindelwald pulls up in front of Percival’s house Percival sighs in
relief, heavy breaths fogging the window he’s leaning against.  He fumbles with
the door handle, trying to find the lock, but Grindelwald takes his arm and
pulls him to lean across the center console.  Percival falls against him,
unfocused.
“My boy,” Grindelwald murmurs, and he’s kissing Percival again.  Grindelwald
works his tongue inside, licking and sucking at him messily until Percival’s
lips are red and swollen and coated with saliva.  Percival parts his lips for
it, letting Grindelwald take his mouth.  He isn’t sure when his body became
Grindelwald’s to use, but it is.  The kiss feels good.  His head is so light he
wants to throw up.  He closes his eyes.  When Grindelwald pulls back Percival
can feel the saliva drying on his skin.
“Good night, my boy.  I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”  Grindelwald flicks a
button, and there’s a mechanical thunk as the doors unlock.
Percival nods and stumbles out of the car.  Grindelwald waits until Percival
closes the front door of his house to drive away.
The front hall is dark and Percival finds his way upstairs, holding to the
banister for support.  He nearly trips a couple times, listing forward, and he
doesn’t understand why.  He takes off his shoes and lies down on his bed, room
spinning.  He’s exhausted.  He thinks he can still feel Grindelwald’s come in
his stomach.  He can’t stop thinking about it.  He can’t sleep.
He has no one to talk to.
End Notes
     Find me at mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com!
     Just to be clear - nothing Grindelwald does in this fic is remotely
     okay. There is an archive warning for rape for a reason, because
     that's what this is. That said, I hope that you enjoyed it, and I
     would love to hear from you through comments or tumblr :)
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      Last_Right_Turn by writingramblr
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