If you were one of the ones who read and reviewed the story At hogwarts we dab and noticed it has been deleted, then I'd like to say sorry. It was brought to my attention that it was "against the rules" and I decided instead of rewriting something that was meant not to be plot/detail heavy I deleted it.

Anyway, enjoy this super shippy mushy shit that I typed up while I should have been studying/researching.

I own nothing.

X X X X

If there was one thing Percy Weasley was, it was not a morning person. Oliver Wood, however, was a morning person, and the madman never thought to be quiet with his morning routine. Marcus Flint wasn't much better, as he was often the one to blame for Quidditch centered arguments at six in the morning and the sound of something being dropped or knocked over. But he was the second one to get up because he preferred cold showers to Oliver's burning hot ones. Which meant he alone fought the temptation of pale skin covered in freckles and sleep-relaxed limbs and soft, needy whines when he needed to get up.

Percy himself liked to stay in bed among the white sheets, green comforter, and black, soft dawn pillows as long as he could. When Oliver slipped out from under the blankets, the redhead whined at the loss of warmth, but had just turned over to snuggle up to the other man still asleep in the bed. When Marcus left - laughing when Percy whined for him to come back, the jerk - he bunched the comforter over him and tried to ignore the sounds of his two lovers roaming the kitchen. From his place under the blankets, he heard the faint sounds of the radio turning on, heard the fragile beat of a country song before the station was changed for something better.

Happily, he dozed off to the heavy beat and guitar strings of some song he couldn't remember the name of.

When he woke up it wasn't six in the morning anymore, but instead eight. Percy shifted on the bed, stretching long legs and tossing his arms over his head. The radio had been muted, and instead of music he could hear Oliver and Marcus conversing quietly, too far for him to understand the words. Sunlight streamed through the window, and by the warmth on his stomach he could tell that it spilled across the bed without even opening his eyes. A few minutes passed by like this, basking in the warm light and the lazy fuzzy feeling in his head.

At eight fifteen the Weasley finally dragged himself out of bed and stretched once his feet hit the carpeted floor. It was Sunday, none of them would be going to work, and instead of crossing the room to the closet to attempt clothes, he simply snatched up one of Marcus' shirts that had been tossed over the dresser last night and slipped it on. The shirt nearly covered his boxers, which reminded him of the brutish nature of the Quidditch player he lived with. His hair would be a lost cause so it was left alone and Percy Weasley, the very much not a morning person, went and joined Marcus and Oliver in the living room.

He fell asleep ten minutes later, curled into Oliver's side, head pillowed on the former Gryffindor's shoulder and a tanned arm around his waist.

It was Sunday. He could shower and eat later, sleep was now.

X X X X

The first month after they had started this weird, off balance relationship, Percy realized that out of the three of them, only he could cook enough to actually make it work. Marcus burnt pretty much everything and could only be trusted to make the coffee. Oliver could make pancakes and waffles and that was where his knowledge ended. This made Percy "Lord of the kitchen" and thus he found it easy to chase both of his lover's from the kitchen just by threatening to not cook anything for them.

At the moment, he stood in the middle of the kitchen feeling shaky and tired. There wouldn't be much food in the fridge or pantry as he hadn't gone grocery shopping in the past couple of days. He wasn't sure if he'd slept either. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't eaten at all, and that's why he was shaky. But if he was honest, he'd also have to admit that Oliver was in the hospital, hurt and unconscious after he'd taken a bludger to the back of the head.

Thinking about what had happened made Percy want to collapse on the cheap tile floor and cry. Before he could, strong arms secured him in a hug, crushing him against a familiar chest.

"He'll be fine." Marcus murmured against the redhead's neck, ignoring the way his small, skinny lover shivered and whimpered.

"You don't know that." Percy's voice trembled, and lost the inner battle. He shut his eyes tight, trying to capture the tears, trying to stop crying. Oliver was in the hospital and they weren't family so they couldn't stay with him.

"Oli's tough, he'll be fine. Why don't we order takeout?"

"...takeouts b-bad for your h-health and I always cook..."

"Just for tonight." Marcus ruffled Percy's already messy hair before he let go of him to find the muggle phone Oliver had insisted they get and a takeout menu from a drawer of things that they probably didn't need.

Percy was sure he'd seen a wine cork in there, but he didn't feel like making a fuss about it. Not tonight.

He wandered into the living room and slid into his usual spot on the couch, which would have been between Oliver and Marcus if the former were present. Percy jumped a little when Marcus set a large hand on his shoulder, but he relaxed upon looking up at the slightly older man.

They ordered takeout, listened to the radio while they waited, ate, showered, and went to bed. Marcus was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but Percy stayed awake hours after, brain kicking into overdrive as he silently wished for Oliver's safe return to his side of the bed that was currently empty.

In the morning they got a call.

Oliver was awake, had kicked out his dad, and was wanting his two lovers to bring him home, had even argued that they were more of a family than his dad (who had highly disapproved of Oliver being gay).

Percy cried upon arriving and again when they'd gotten home. Partly because of Oliver's injuries, but mainly because he'd called them family.

Percy made breakfast and shot down any suggestions for going out to eat.

X X X X

Oliver Wood was patient, kind, polite, even gentle when off the pitch, and he was a hopeless romantic at heart.

Marcus Flint was blunt, impatient, mean off and on the pitch, and he was only affectionate when in the privacy of their home.

If had been just them, they wouldn't have lasted long. But they had Percy.

Percy who played attention to every detail, was patient enough to listen to his lovers, who had that stereotypical redheaded temper, who wasn't a morning person and liked his coffee black and strong. Percy was what kept them together, soft voice muttering commands while thin, long fingers pressed down into a broad chest or captured wandering hands.

If Marcus and Oliver were like fire and water, Percy was a tree that survived the forest fires and the flash floods and even thrived on it.

Marcus was brutish in size, broad shoulders and chest, large hands and enough muscle to strangle a horse. His hair was black and no where near soft, his eyes a dark grey and his large teeth were the first thing people tended to look at.

Oliver was just as tall as Marcus, but his physique was sleeker, and at times he seemed to be too gangly for half of their furniture. His hair was short and brown, his eyes were a dark umber that often looked absolutely maniacal.

Percy on the other hand was shorter than them both, with unruly red hair - he'd started to let it grow out, and sometimes it seemed a bit curly - and blue eyes that could go from warm to cold within the span of a few seconds. He was pale and every inch of him covered in a light dusting of freckles close to the color of his hair.

Most people, when they looked at the three of them at the store with Percy standing between Marcus and Oliver, would be awed by how the delicate looking redhead could exist next to the Quidditch players and not look out of place.

Where he did look out of place was at the Weasley house, sitting next to his brothers (and Hermione and Harry) without either Marcus or Oliver. Percy hadn't told his family yet. He couldn't, not after he'd witnessed Oliver's family boot him out.

As he passed the plate of rolls to Ginny, he wondered if he'd ever feel like this was home. During the time in which he bought a flat (Marcus had helped, the wonderful brute) and spent countless mornings listening to Quidditch debates while he lay semi-peacefully in bed, he'd come to think of that unbearably messy flat as home.

His mother and father didn't even know him anymore. Had they known him to begin with?

Silence stole over the dinner table, and Percy realized with dawning horror that he'd asked that aloud. Did his family even know him?

"So...something you need to tell us, Percy?" It was Charlie that broke the silence, looking concerned and not looking away from his younger brother. Percy felt his chest tighten and wished he had Marcus there to look over his shoulder and make him feel protected.

"I...dad...mom...I-I..." how did one find the words to tell your parents that you would only disappoint them?

"I'm gay and in a poly relationship." That worked. Percy didn't dare look up from the food on his plate, poking a potato with his fork while he waited for the inevitable hatred to spring up.

"Percy you dog." And once again it was Charlie who broke the silence, but he didn't do so with concern or hatred. He was impressed. Percy could have cried right there and then from relief.

"So who are these two gentlemen you're bringing round for dinner?" His mother had already accepted it (though she looked stunned) and everyone was looking at Percy, obviously wondering who'd take an interest in boring prefect Percy.

"I'm...it's uh...O-Oliver Wood," Fred started to choke on his food and George was too busy gawking to help him. "...and Marcus Flint I'm so sorry I didn't tell you I didn't know how you'd react..."

"You're dating Quidditch players? But you hate Quidditch!"

"No, I don't actually, I just don't play. I only hate it at six in the morning when Marcus and Oli think it's fine to debate the game while I'm instilling trying to sleep."

The conversation devolved into Quidditch and Molly had started on about how she'd have to make two new sweaters for them. As she asked for their measurements, Percy was grinning and couldn't hide it.

Later, Oliver laughed at the story while perched on Marcus's lap, all three snuggled up to listen to the radio and watch stupid movies.

X X X X

They started Christmas at home, opening presents for each other and kissing and generally being the sort of mushy and lovey that Marcus claimed he hated. He still didn't say anything when Oliver swooped down to steal a kiss, which Percy marked as a victory for them.

Oliver gave Marcus a toy snitch, Marcus got Oliver a new broom, Percy had gotten Oliver a bracelet that tracked time spent in air and gave Marcus a new pair of flying goggles.

The athletes had piled their resources and gotten Percy a locket with both of their pictures inside it.

At the burrow, they were given sweaters with the letter of their name on it (Oliver had started crying and Marcus had explained to the Weasley family of certain things while Percy comforted him before the twins helpfully brought up Quidditch) and lots of fudge, food and good wishes.

And threats, there were plenty of threats from his brothers. Ginny even told Marcus she'd punch him if he ever hurt Percy or Oliver.

And suddenly, Percy was home, surrounded by the people he loved the people who loved him.

Finally.