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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
Wilfred, Julian and Peter are in an established and loving relationship. Everything is wonderful, save for the fact that Wilfred's parents still innocently believe that their son is straight as a nail.

So Peter and Julian come to stay a couple of days at Sparrow Manor, and Wilfred cautiously tries to reveal the fact that they are more than just friends.

Needless to say, one can never be cautious enough.

(Set in the Potterverse.)

Submitted: September 03, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 03, 2015





Peter and Julian seemed pretty happy going through his things and having a laugh. They liked the wizard photos of a littler Wilfred and positively delighted at the sight of people waiting on them hand and foot - it made Wilfred wonder if they had taken him seriously the first time he told them about having a whole staff to man the household, and a House Elf.

He had eventually tired of hearing the snickered comments on his younger self, trapped in frames of golden leaf, and allowed himself to drift off towards his mother's sitting room. His mother was there, reading through some seemingly important papers, every now and again combing her fingers through her dark hair absently.

Wilfred sat next to her in comfortable silence, looking over the papers without really reading them. He found his thoughts drifting towards the two boys he had left in his bedroom - probably not even aware of the fact that he had abandoned his post at the door frame - and started to feel guilty. After all, they would be staying for a good few days now that summer had started and he had told his parents that they were a couple of 'friends' when they were so much more than that.

Wilfred always hated lying; he was terrible at it and it left a sour, unpleasant aftertaste.

"Mother, may I tell you something?" He ventured after mowing it over again and again until he couldn't stand it anymore. Mrs. Blair's eyes flickered up towards him for a moment, her lips stretching into a smile of encouragement. "Of course, Wilfred," She answered, without thinking. Wilfred swallowed, picking himself up from where he had been leaning on the armrest between their two adjacent armchairs, nerves prickling.

"I know I said that I would like to invite some friends," he started, fiddling with his thumbs, "but the truth is that they're not just my friends," He thought that his meaning was painfully clear - to him, anyway - but Mrs. Blair just quirked an eyebrow, eyes still fixed on her papers, looking politely interested in what her son had to say.


Wilfred sighed, feeling his heart beating in his throat. " in a relationship with Julian and Peter, mother." The teen dropped all at once, bracing himself for all sorts of reactions, but certainly not the gentle tranquility of her features.

Suddenly, her expression gave a sporadic twitch.

Her eyes abruptly widened and snapped upwards, fixing and drilling into Wilfred's surprised face. She looked stricken. "What? You mean, both of them? Together? But--" She seemed to be about to throw some more exclamations of bewilderment into the air, but forced herself to tone down her horror upon the sight of Wilfred's face. He looked like he was waiting for her to blow up on him. Mrs. Blair cleared her throat, important papers completely forgotten.

"Ehem, a-and have you always been like...this?"

It took Wilfred a moment to understand what 'this' meant, and in her eyes saw the same bracing that she always took on when she was talking about Felix. His face reddened, shaking his head avidly. "Oh, no, I loved Emily," He answered in earnest, wanting to put any odd notions out of her head. The mention of his pretty ex-girlfriend brought a certain brightness into his mother's face, the brunette nodding. "Yes! Emily! Whatever happened to her?"

"She...she left me, mother."

Mrs. Blair's face darkened suddenly, mouth a taut line. "She did, did she?" Something strange fell over her, dark eyes glassy, cold in a way that Wilfred had never really seen before. "Mother?" He called out cautiously, snapping her out of whatever reverie she had been in, her typical airy demeanor returning, though with a distinct abnormality beneath it.


"Do you disapprove?"

Mrs. Blair's eyes blew completely open, a scoff hinted at her cheeks and her brow shooting up her forehead. "Of course I d--" She had started out strong, looking anywhere but at him, yet making the terrible mistake of glancing towards him just as his shoulders slumped and his face fell, forcing her to cut herself off. "Wilfred, you have to understand that this is...a big thing to assume. It will take...time."

It was easy to see that she was struggling to keep everything together, which made Wilfred look even more sullen.

She didn't need to fake it.

However, in her mind, she did have to. Lips straining into something that would kindly be called a smile and realistically be called a grimace, contorting her pretty features into an exceedingly unflattering expression. "B-But I will be happy once I see you happy." The woman promised. Wilfred looked at her in confusion.

"But I am already happy..." He countered, clasping his hands together, still warily eyeing his mother. Mrs. Blair cast an abrupt look behind her, towards the door, where Wilfred for a moment feared they would be encountered with the sight of his father, but the door remained firmly closed, without anyone in sight. Still, she seemed to have been holding onto that fear as well, now rubbing her forehead in foreboding.

"Anyway, best not tell your father about this. I doubt he would be as - ehem - understanding. Neither do Quidditch, perchance?" She inquired. Wilfred shook his head, reaching up to brush back a few red strands that had fallen out of place.

"No - neither,"

His mother tutted, more to herself than to him. "Pity. That might have sweetened the blow. Is that all, Wilfred?" She rose her voice just a little to address him, distracted, probably still thinking about his revelations and trying to keep everything together. Now, at last, Wilfred could appreciate the fact that she was at least trying, but he couldn't really exorcise the feeling of slight unhappiness at the disappointment that she couldn't hide.

"Yeah - I mean! Yes, mother. May I go?" He asked this standing up, one hand softly placed on the armrest to support his weight. His mother nodded, blinking a few more times than would be classed as normal.

"Yes, yes, off you go. I think I sit down...a bit..."

Wilfred chose not to comment upon the fact that she was already sitting down, merely bowing his head slightly out of habit and quickly fleeing the sitting room, unsure whether to feel satisfied at having told the truth, or to regret it for the sake of Peter and Julian.

The boy erased the expression on his face as he reached the door to his bedroom, putting forth his characteristic bright smile, not wanting to alarm the two within, before pushing the door open and leaning against it. He was met with the sight of Julian quickly snapping up straight, his whole posture giving away that he had just done something, but would deny it vehemently if questioned. Then there was Peter, who was looking over his things with far more care, eyes oddly bright, maybe in wonder. As Wilfred entered, the latter turned towards him with a gaping mouth.

"Your house is huge, Wilfred!" Peter exclaimed, closing the distance in a few steps. Julian cocked both eyebrows, a deadpan in his eyes.

"I thought it'd be bigger."

Wilfred chose against making a comment on that, instead smiling at Peter, closing the door to his oversized bedroom, slouching unconsciously. "It was built for a large family with a big staff and many guests," he explained, "I haven't been in half of the rooms during my life, actually. It is far too big for us."

He hadn't realised that the smile had slipped until Julian was scrunching up his nose at him. "What's wrong with you now?" The boy asked, more concerned than he was letting on. Peter rolled his eyes at him, stepping towards Wilfred. "You make it sound like there's always something wrong with him," He tutted, one hand now on the redhead's shoulder, moving towards his neck, his cheek.

"That's because there is - Wilberg can't keep out of trouble for the life of him, eh?" Julian retorted, striding to stand next to Peter, dragging smile out of him, as always.

"Only the trouble you get me into," Wilfred said back, leaning into Peter's touch before sighing and pushing off the door to stand straight. "I...was talking with my mother," The Gryffindor informed, taking a seat on his bed - much too big for him after six years at Hogwarts - and clasping his hands together, rested on his knees.

"Oh no! How truly valiant of you, Wilford! What a feat!" Julian exclaimed, a taunt underneath the theatrics. Now, Wilfred's easy smile became a little harder to keep up, a little faker, a little sadder.

"Julian, I think something went wrong," Peter murmured, brow furrowed as the two Hufflepuffs went over to him, more cautious this time - seeing Wilfred upset wasn't something either were accustomed to.

Wilfred quickly snapped his head up to look at the two, only feeling worse at how he had just brought down the mood; it wasn't fair, they had been having a great time nosing through things and making mischief. "No! It didn't! She just doesn't - it will take time, naturally - but she is willing to accept this!" He promised in earnest, flashing them a smile of plastic.

"You don't need her to accept anything, Wilf," Peter assured, sitting down to his left, a hand once again on his shoulder, their positions exchanged. On his other side, Julian plopped down, bouncing carelessly, leaning back on his hands, carefree for the three of them.

"Want me to go and speak to her about et?"

"No! - I mean..."

"Wilfred." Peter instructed. "Come here."

The older boy wrapped his arms around Wilfred, pulling him in, perhaps so used to the redhead's own hugs that it was weird to have it any other way, the promise of a kiss at the lips that got dangerously close to Wilfred's ear, drawing out a tremble from him. In the meantime Julian had adjusted his position, shoes kicked off, knees on the mattress and turning Wilfred's face towards him with a finger atop his jugular, eyes firm. "Don't worry about what she says," Wilfred's chest constricted and he shook his head, unable to convince them while he remained unconvinced himself.

"I don't care - truly, I do not..." His voice died out, gone, nothing but the meek memory of it left, unable to really be honest and express how much the disappointment in his mother's face did matter to him, just like being called stupid did, just like seeing Peter and Julian mattered.

He felt a kiss under his ear, delivered before a nip to his lobe, seeing Peter there, unsmiling as usual, but his face left it clear that - today - it was more important to revive Wilfred's smile rather than inking one onto his own face. "Yes you do, but it doesn't matter," He whispered, a certain soothing to the quiet of his voice, contrasted only by Julian's burning, singing fingertips, his mouth and the fiery way he bit into Wilfred's lips.

Wilfred had a lot of love to give, but it was at moments like these that he didn't understand how it could possibly be enough for the two boys. He loved them just as much as he was in love with them - his parents would need to be blind to not see that.

His jumper was off, discarded, useless, in the way. One of his hands hooked Peter closer by the collar, the other lost at the nape of Julian's neck, dragging his fingers up into his soft mess of hair. They were a flush of sometimes-gentle caresses and swelling lips, of bruising bite marks, a true ruckus of beating hearts and puffed breaths. Julian's hand abruptly dug into his chest pushing him down, leaving a series of nips on his collarbone as Peter sucked the air right out of Wilfred, and the Gryffindor panted, reaching out to cage one or both or none beneath him, when all of a sudden the door to his room was blown open.

"Hey, Wilfred! I just got back - you have friends over, right? You've never brought anyone other than the Terrance boy so I want to see--" Mr. Blair cut himself off at the sight of his son ensnared in an embrace with not one but two partners, who happened to be of the same sex as him.


At this booming exclamation, Wilfred shot up, hair a mess and bottom lip bleeding ever so slightly, eyes wide and horrified.

"F-Father!" His voice cracked, raspy, odd and his whole face flamed, ignited not by shame - as he initially thought - but rather something similar to annoyance.

"This is what I get for not knocking - it's basic principle - I always knock - knocking was invented for a reason..."

As Mr. Blair went on to himself, in shock, most likely, Julian ran a hand through his hair and leant a bit further into Wilfred, voice a whisper.

"What's he blabbering on about?"

Before the redhead could respond, his father had burst like the ginger volcano he was, pointing an accusing finger at Julian, eyes very wide. He was a big man, almost an enlarged and aged replica of Wilfred, with the face of someone that had seen many days out in the sun and hands coarse and roughened from a lifetime of handling wooden broomsticks. This last thing came to Wilfred then, thinking in horror that Peter and Julian wouldn't be a match for his father if the harsh fists came down on them.

"YOU! Yes, you right there! Step away from Wilfred immediately!" The man thundered, stepping into the room, face reddening in confusion and the indignation that would characterise a King finding a lowly knight in the chambers of his daughter, the princess. The thought made Wilfred's face clash terribly with his hair, but Mr. Blair took no notice, glowering at Julian until the boy slowly put some distance between himself and Wilfred, much like Peter had done. "Are they harassing you, Will?" Mr. Blair asked, turning to face his son. Wilfred hadn't seen him look so worried since the summer he was forced to spend in St Mungos.

Now wasn't the time for being concerned.

"No - father. They were consoling me, actually," He said, standing up, meaning to square off to the man should he attempt to hex either of his beloved, yet his father was so centred in the outrage and shock of the situation that he wouldn't manage the simplest of spells even if he had tried. His face was redder than Wilfred's.

"C-consoling?! Is this a practical joke? Are you doing this to spite me - is your mother behind this? I told her I couldn't attend that dinner of hers because I was in another blooming country!" He bellowed, prompting the sound of faraway footsteps on the stairs, more than likely Mrs. Blair out to defend her baby boy.

Wilfred didn't need her defence - he needed her support. Her approval.

Wilfred had fallen silent, enough for Peter to quietly stand, a careful distance from Wilfred, but no longer sitting on the younger boy's bed, petrified by an imploding father. "It's not a practical joke, Mr. Blair," He said, landing himself with a narrowed glower and spitted words.

"And who the ruddy heck are you?"

"Peter Kenton, sir,"

Peter's perfect calmness - if only what he projected on the outside - was enough to turn Mr. Blair's glare back onto Julian, who was still lounging on the bed, seemingly unperturbed. Wilfred appreciated the fact that neither of them were reacting badly; it gave him courage.

"And you?"

"Julian Godai,"

Mr. Blair spluttered.

"What kind of name is that?! Are you mocking me, boy?" He snarled, taking a step forward, that threatening finger still sticking out, his words triggering something behind the cool mirror of Julian's eyes and bringing out something fierce in Wilfred.

"That is enough, Father!" He yelled, everyone stopping to blink at his outburst. He narrowed his eyes at his father, wiped away the tiny droplets of blood on his lips and pointed at the door.

"Get out."

As if forced by magic, Mr. Blair took a couple of steps back, staring at his son like something had possessed him, Wilfred advancing towards him.

"Wh-? This is my house, young man!" He stated, too surprised to fight back when Wilfred shoved him out of his huge bedroom, a foreign kind of fire now blazing on his skin, his eyes.

"And this is my room! Get out!"

One last shove ensured that his father was out. Wilfred slammed the door in his face, casting the locking spell to keep him out, falling with his back against the rich wood, anger always draining him of energy.

Neither of the two boys made to approach him, eyeing him in surprise. Peter was the first to speak, more than a bit uncomfortable in the present situation.

"Is your family always...?" He trailed off, words unnecessary when his meaning was so crystal clear. Wilfred threw his hands over his face, rubbing harshly over the skin in his uncharacteristic agitation.

"No. They usually aren't here, even over the holidays. Last year we only went around Europe because Etheldred threatened to dye her hair like Felix's if they didn't accept," He answered, voice quiet, harbouring a resentment that utterly terrified him. There was a spell of silence over them then, an unbidden and unwanted curse that kept Wilfred casting sombre looks at the polished floor and the other boys looking at him in their own versions of wonder.

"What a weird family,"

All eyes were all of a sudden on Julian and the tension in the air seemed to dissipate as Wilfred laughed, pressing his fist against the door before letting it open and heading towards the two, mood lifted but still oddly determined, looking up at them all but adoringly.

"But I do not care about them right now - they can think what they please. You two are not going anywhere," He stated, now smiling properly, defiantly, lovingly and in promise. He sat back down next to Julian on his bed and beckoned Peter over, grasping him by the fingertips when he was close enough, holding onto him with one hand and pressing into Julian like he feared that as soon as contact slackened they would disappear. The thought was absolutely terrifying.

Outside, still rather far from the door, there was the sound of footsteps, Wilfred's parents, and Mr. Blair's booming voice filled to the brim with indignation. "What do you mean he needs 'moral support'?! What he needs - what he needs, Audrey - is to go see a-- let go of me, woman! Ouch! What are you doing? Audrey!"

Wilfred could now imagine his mother pointing her wand at her husband, giving him a good hex to the face as Leopold Blair struggled to withstand the fury of a mother protecting her son over everything else.

Julian pulled on Wilfred's hair, not hard and firm tugs, but enough to make his scalp tingle. "I don't get how you can be like this when your parents are like that," The Hufflepuff commented. Wilfred sighed - he was right; his resemblance to his parents was mostly physical, his father's appearance and mother's more prominent facial features - like her smile - but, really, the people that had most influenced his personality were Felix, his family, Etheldred and their staff members. Still, he couldn't bring himself to let his boyfriends believe that his parents were always like this.

"They are not usually in such a state," He remarked, playing with Peter's fingers slowly, affectionately. The graduate groaned, shifting to look at the two with a hint of exasperation.

"Can we stop talking about Wilfred's parents already?" He requested, making Wilfred smiled and Julian snigger. The redhead pushed forwards, pinning Peter down with the younger Hufflepuff's help.

"Yes Peter. I think that ought to be all." The redhead hummed pointedly, catching his mouth in a fauxly gentle kiss and biting.

© Copyright 2018 Willoughby Blair. All rights reserved.

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