Title: Third Party Loyalties
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating/Warnings: R for swears and Death Eatery. Slash.
Summary: Percy's been promoted, but even he can't ignore how the
Minister of Magic isn't what he pretends to be, and Draco won't get the
hell out of his office.
A/N: Written for the 2004 Percython run by Icarus.
Percy Weasley read the memo over several times, very carefully, so that
there could be no mistake what it said. Finally he turned the sheet of
parchment over to make sure that it was really addressed to him,
resting his eyes on the official block lettering that spelled his name.
Another minute passed and he set the memo down on his desk, feeling
lightheaded. He was being promoted. Promoted! Percy had been sure it
would never happen again after that whole Barty Crouch disaster.
He
wanted to leap out of his chair and do a mad Quidditch dance on his
desk, even if the only one he knew was that ridiculous Quaffle Waffle,
the one Charlie used to do at the drop of a hat. Percy didn't do any
such thing, however, because that was really not becoming the Chief of
Correspondence for the Minister of Magic. Percy settled for taking his
glasses off and twiddling with them excitedly. After a moment, he
picked up the memo and read it again, just to be sure. He squinted at
it myopically before remembering to put back on his glasses.
The
memo said he should report directly to the Minister's office the next
morning and not to worry about his things because they would be moved
to his new desk for him, and not to worry about the plant either
because it was self-watering.
"Plant?" Percy asked out loud, wrinkling his brow. "What pl—"
He
was interrupted by a soft 'pop' as a decorative potted fern, the type
that office workers have on their desks to make them look less sterile,
materialized on his desk. A cheerful little card, stuck into the plant
on a plastic spike, was giggling "Congratulations!" over and over. The
fern itself waved some fronds at Percy in greeting.
After thirty seconds of listening to the card, Percy plucked it out of
the pot and finite incantatemed it hurriedly. The fern twitched in
relief. Percy rubbed the glossy printing on the card absently before
dropping it into his dustbin. It was exactly the sort of thing his
mother would have sent him, and Percy's excitement soured slightly.
Excited enough to even brave familial contact, Percy snatched up a
quill and a blank sheet of parchment.
Dear Mother—I wanted to be the first to
inform you that I have received a sudden promotion. I will receive a
larger office and will be working in direct conjunction with Lucius Mal—
Percy stopped writing mid-word, quill still poised above the parchment.
His family wouldn't be proud of this promotion, they'd be furious,
they'd start up again with all that 'dangerous Death Eater' nonsense
from two summers ago, even though the Minister had been completely
cleared of those charges, and hadn't it been proved after all that it
was Fudge framing him the whole time? But none of that mattered to his
family, they'd hear the name 'Lucius Malfoy' and that would be the end
of that.
Scowling, Percy crumpled the parchment up into a ball and tossed it
into the dustbin on top of the congratulations card, which let out a
muffled giggle. He took a few deep breaths to clear his mind, and
nearly jumped out of his skin when something touched the back of his
hand.
He
looked down to see the fern stroking his hand soothingly.
"Er," he
blinked, "thanks. Um, good fern?"
The
fern waved its fronds back at him happily.
******
Percy arrived at work a half hour early the next morning in case of any
emergency with his new office, but found it with little trouble. The
office was small, but tidy, his furniture consisting of a desk, a
filing cabinet, and two chairs. All his files and what few personal
effects he had were already there, and the fern was so excited to see
him that it over-watered itself.
As
he was wiping up the fern's puddle with a piece of scrap parchment,
there was a knock on his office door.
"I
hope you find your situation satisfactory," Lucius Malfoy said from the
doorway.
Percy shot to his feet, startled, and struggled to maintain some
semblance of calm in front of his new superior, even with his heart
lodged in his throat.
"Very satisfactory, sir," he answered, relieved that at least his voice
hadn't cracked.
"Excellent," the Minister of Magic nodded. "I have a task for you,
something I would like you to take care of personally.” Minister
Malfoy hung his cane on one arm before drawing a small sheaf of papers
from a robe pocket and offering them to Percy. Percy willed his hand
not to shake as he took them. "You may ask my secretary if you have any
questions. I trust you will soon feel comfortable here, Mr. Weasley,"
Minister Malfoy said. With a final nod, he took his cane in hand and
left Percy's office, leaving Percy to flop back down in his chair.
"The
Minister remembers my name!" Percy said to the fern, grinning like a
fool. The fern waved its fronds happily in response. Percy's grin faded
a little when he took the sheet with the addresses off the top of the
pile, and saw what it was he was supposed to be mailing.
It
was a stack of publicity photos of the Minister, all nodding in a
dignified manner. He glanced at the top parchment again, and noticed a
note that said a quill that would write Minister Malfoy's signature
could be found in his desk and would he sign each photo before mailing
them and could they be out by lunch.
Oh well, Percy shook himself a
little, it is only my first day after
all.
Percy was
most of the way through the stack, and very pleased with his progress,
when his door slammed open, startling him enough to drop his quill and
leave a large ink splotch on a photo. The Minister brandished his cane
at this loss of dignity and demanded he be attended to at once.
"Here again?! This damn place is a labyrinth!" the invader demanded
angrily while Percy was blotting the Minister. "Listen, I'm looking for
my father…"
Percy looked up finally and blinked in surprise. A familiar pointy face
blinked back at him.
"Weasley?" Draco Malfoy asked. "Percy Weasley? What the sod are you
doing here?"
"I
might ask you the same thing." Percy pressed his lips together,
irritation making him stiffen his spine. "I'm the Minister's Chief of
Correspondence."
"No
you aren’t," Draco waved him off, "I was in here yesterday and it was
somebody different. Are you temping or something?"
"I
most certainly am not!" Percy snapped.
"Fine, if you're really my father's Chief of whatever," Draco raised an
eyebrow, "then where's his office?"
Percy glared.
"I
thought so," Draco said.
"It's my first day." Percy took a calming breath. He paused. "In fact,
didn't you come in here because you don't know where your father's
office is?"
"It's only my second day," Draco sniffed. "They've built this place so
you can never find who you're looking for straightaway." Draco
sauntered over to Percy's desk and threw a hip up on the corner. The
fern perked up and undulated a greeting. Draco eyed the stack of photos
piled on the desk with a smirk. "Doing important work too, I see."
"It's not like they're going to give me encrypted communiqués on
my first day!" The tips of Percy's ears reddened. "I'm only doing what
I've been asked."
"Which explains why they've hired you," Draco commented. He tickled the
underside of the fern with a finger, and it curled up its fronds in
pleasure. "It's a wonder you Weasleys don't do better in government
positions with that sort of thick-headed loyalty, but then again it
seems like most of you prefer Dumbledore to my father when you’re
gripping your ankles for somebody."
"Mr.
Malfoy," Percy interrupted, trying to wrest control of this
conversation back, "since we've just established that I do not know
where the Minister's office is, perhaps you could go ask someone who
does know and let me get back to work?"
"No
hurry, actually," Draco shrugged. "Once I've found him, he'll only tell
me to go back to my own department. I'd rather they pay me to sit in
your office and irritate you, which should tell you something about the
enjoyment I derive from my own co-workers. Father could’ve picked a
more interesting department to dump me in."
Percy stifled a pained snicker as he recalled telling his brothers on
several occasions "the worst thing the Ministry is guilty of is
nepotism." He hadn't quite realized how serious an accusation he'd been
making.
"No
more tedious than your job though, apparently," Draco eyed the photos,
and Percy scowled.
"Fun
as this has been," he said, "I've really got to get back to work now.
I'm sure you can at least find your way out of my office."
"Feisty little photo-signer, aren't we?" Draco asked, but slid off
Percy's desk. "Don't do too much work on the first day, Weasley, you'll
burn out your brain and then who will I have to visit?"
After the door had swung shut behind Draco, Percy hoped that the visit
would be a one-time affair. Much to his frustration, Draco's invasions
soon became a daily occurrence.
"So then I said,
'Look, Crabbe, you moron, it isn't like you've never seen an oyster
fork before'…I mean honestly, the idiot was trying to eat his salad
with it, can you imagine?"
It took a moment for
Percy to realize that Draco actually seemed to want an answer, or at
least was taking a breath before launching into another story about how
he was the only Slytherin worth two Knuts. He looked up to find Draco,
who had transfigured the extra chair in his office to a loveseat and
was now sprawled across it, watching him through half-slit eyes with a
glimmer of interest.
"What are you working
on?" he asked.
"I'm your father's
Chief of Correspondence," Percy said. "What do you think I'm working
on?"
"He's probably making you send out invitations to his dinner party,"
Draco raised himself up slightly on his elbows to get a better look,
"Mother’s been going on and on about it."
"I'm
sure I have more important letters to send than dinner party
invitations," Percy narrowed his eyes.
"I
just bet you do." Draco pulled himself nearly to a sitting position,
the most initiative he'd shown all afternoon. "If you see anybody who
you like in your pile of recipients, do them a favor and tell them that
my mother's wearing periwinkle and if they're wise they'll wear
something else. When you're done with all the more important letters."
Percy said nothing, but simply kept on scribbling, lips pressed tightly
together. Draco stood up and approached Percy's desk, reaching out a
hand.
"Then you won't mind if I…"
Percy snatched away the papers before Draco's hand came anywhere near
them, and Draco smirked knowingly.
"Listen, I'm trying to work!" Percy snapped. "Can't you go irritate
your father for once?" Percy winced as he realized what he'd said and
he glanced towards the door, expecting to see Mr. Malfoy standing right
there.
"He's a lot less fun to irritate than you are," Draco shrugged,
throwing a hip up onto Percy's desk and jostling aside some parchments.
He reached down and picked up the umbrella that was leaning against the
side of Percy's desk. "Not only that, he doesn't seem very amused by
me. You think I'm amusing, don't you, Perce?"
"Don't call me that," Percy said automatically, straightening his
parchments with obvious distress. "And don't you dare transfigure my
umbrella!"
"His
office is no picnic either," Draco plucked a quill out of Percy's
holder and dipped it in his inkwell, "the furniture is uncomfortable,
the art is atrocious," he began doodling something on the curved handle
of the umbrella, the dark ink showing up clearly against the pale wood,
"not to mention, then I have to talk to father himself, and you should
know better than anybody how dull that can be."
Draco dropped the quill back into the holder and inspected his
handiwork for a moment. He showed it to the fern, and Percy wondered
how something that made no noise could manage to snicker.
Percy had given up trying to work several sentences ago and now was
just staring at Draco in mingled frustration and curiosity. He noted
that Draco had drawn a little face on the umbrella, complete with a
jagged, squiggly line for a mouth and angry eyebrows. The umbrella
looked rather constipated.
"You
know what he's like, it's always the same speech…"
Percy stared in horror as Draco twisted his facial expression into a
perfect replica of Lucius' condescending frown and held up the umbrella
as a makeshift cane.
"Draco, you are a disgrace!" 'Lucius' sneered, his back so ramrod
straight that Percy thought his head might snap off from the strain.
"You need to show initiative, boy! Discipline! Ambition!" 'Lucius'
thumped the top of the desk with his 'cane' for emphasis with each key
word. "You're the heir of Malfoy, and by Merlin you're going to act
like it or so help me I will inquire with your mother about the chances
of a second go! Isn't that right?" 'Lucius' demanded.
Percy clung to the shreds of his composure when the 'cane' bobbed its
head in frantic agreement.
"Absolutely, sir!" the 'cane' squeaked, Draco's negligible ventriloquil
ability obvious. "Couldn't agree more, sir! May I suggest a caning for
motivational purposes, sir!"
"Stop it!" Percy demanded, barely contained snickers making his voice
shrill. "Dammit, Malfoy, I don't need this!" Percy was more than a
little relieved when Draco's expression smoothed back into his own
instead of his father's.
"You
need this more than anybody I know," Draco replied, letting the
umbrella roll off his fingers to thump on the carpet. "You kiss my
father's arse like he's Godric Gryffindor."
"He's the Minister of Magic!" Percy shouted, patience snapping. "I'm
his employee, not his son, and it's me he'll fire if he comes in here
and sees you prancing about with my umbrella! But you wouldn't know
anything about that, because you don't have to work or support
yourself, or do anything besides come in here and drive me mad!"
“Dry
up, Weasley,” Draco narrowed his eyes, “you don’t know a thing about
it.”
“I
know all about it, as a matter of fact!” Percy pressed his lips
together. “You’re just the same as you were in school, spoiled
senseless, and running right back to your father at the first sign of
honest work!”
“Because that’s exactly what one would go to my father for, honest
work!” Draco sneered. “That’s him all right, moral fiber and upstanding
citizenship! Not like he didn’t lie, cheat, and steal his way into his
current office or anything as underhanded as that!”
“Your lack of character is no reason to slander the Minister in my
office!”
“It’s only slander if it isn’t true.” Draco slid off Percy’s desk and
stormed for the door.
"Draco…" Percy started, already sorry for losing his temper, but Draco
was striding out of the room, slamming it behind him. Percy
sighed, told himself he should go back to work, and went back to
addressing envelopes.
…RSVP Narcissa Malfoy via owl…
*******
Percy was relieved at first when Draco didn't return to his office that
afternoon or the next morning, relishing the chance to get some work
done in peace. The relief evaporated shortly after, leaving behind the
sudden epiphany that his job was dreadfully boring when he wasn't being
interrupted all the time. And he was out of invitations to address.
He
decided to go see the Minister and ask if he had anything Percy might
do.
Straightening his desk on the off-chance that someone might come in
while he was gone and form a bad impression of him, Percy closed his
office door and headed down the hall to Minister Malfoy's office,
dodging the slew of paper airplanes shooting by his head.
Stepping into the out waiting room of the Minster's office, Percy
nearly ran right into Draco storming out of his father's office.
"Hello, Weasley," Draco said, mouth pinched.
"Malfoy," Percy nodded cordially, then cleared his throat. "Listen,
about the other day. I lost my temper and said unpleasant things…it was
very unprofessional, and I'd like to offer my apologies."
Draco opened his mouth, then paused and the light seemed to shift in
his eyes.
"I
don't suppose you would like to do a favor for me to make up for it?"
Draco asked.
"What favor would that be?" Percy asked, feeling he should atone for
his rash actions—what if Draco told his father?—but uncomfortable with
the way Draco was eyeing him.
"Nothing untoward, I assure you," Draco waved a hand. "How would you
like to come to a dinner party with me?"
Percy stared at Draco, unable to come up with a single plausible reason
for this request.
"You
know, the one you sent out all the invites for?" Draco coaxed. "It's
free dinner, isn't it, and the chance to rub elbows with the most
influential people at the Ministry? You've seen the names on those
invitations, don't tell me you aren't interested."
"If
it's such a good time, why do you want me to go?" Percy asked.
"You've obviously never been to one," Draco said dryly. "I didn't say
it was a good time, they're dreadfully boring, and I have to make
conversation with people who think I'm still five, and my mother's
friends are throwing their revolting daughters at me left and right.
It's horrific."
"Hm." Percy fought a smile, imagining dowagers pinching Draco's cheeks.
"Look here, Weasley," Draco added, "it's practically a fair exchange.
You keep me from expiring of sheer tedium, and I give you a shot at
high society. What do you say?"
"I
suppose that's fair," Percy said guardedly.
"Splendid!" Draco slapped Percy on the back with a grin that doubled
Percy's suspicions. "I'll pick you up at 6:30 Friday night sharp, and
don't forget what I've said about the periwinkle."
"The
Minister will see you now," the Minister's secretary chirped at that
moment, startling Percy, and Draco slipped out in the moment of
confusion before Percy had a chance to ask how Draco knew where his
flat was in the first place.
********
"You
didn't have to pick me up," Percy said when he answered the door and
found Draco eyeing the apartment building's carpet in distaste. "It's
not like I'm your date or anything."
"Gets me out of the house before mother's last set of hysterics," Draco
answered, stepping inside, "and that's all to the good, believe me.
Besides, someone’s got to get you past the wards if it’s the first time
you’ve been. Very, er, quaint place you've got here, Weasley."
"It's serviceable," Percy said, torn between agreeing and defending his
flat. "I've only got to get my cloak and we can go. If something that
looks like a sentient dustniffler comes up to you, don't provoke it.
It's my flatmate's cat, and it would just as soon shred your kneecaps
to ribbons as look at you." Percy left Draco in the lounge and went to
retrieve his cloak from his bedroom
"You
have a flatmate?" Draco called after Percy, sounding horrified. "Sweet
Merlin, it's like being back at school!"
Percy opened his mouth to answer that it wasn't like he had a choice
and it wasn't that bad, but as he stared into the yellow eyes of the
sentient dustniffler that was digging its claws happily into his only
decent outdoor cloak, Percy realized that it really was that bad. He
had never thought that he would actually miss the days of sharing a
room with Oliver Wood and his broom (nicknamed the eighth roommate),
but there it was.
A
lesser Weasley would have Unforgivable'd the cat right then and there,
but Percy gritted his teeth, tugged the cloak out from under the cat
with some effort, and tried futilely to shake the cat hair off it. A
yowl and a curse from the other room told Percy exactly where the cat
had gone. Percy shrugged on his cloak and hurried out of his bedroom
before he had to explain a crisped pet to his flatmate.
He
found the cat huddled under a chair and a grimly satisfied Draco with
his wand drawn. Percy wasn't positive, but he thought he saw a curl of
smoke rising from the end of Draco's wand.
"Had
to be done," Draco reported.
"Don't tell me what you did," Percy held up a hand, "I'll need to claim
ignorance later. And do you know a charm for getting cat hair off
clothes?"
"Abite felicis," Draco replied,
flicking his wand casually. Every hair on Percy's cloak dropped
immediately straight down onto the floor, making a gray heap. Percy
wrinkled his nose at the pile of fur and filed the charm away to be
used on the rest of his wardrobe as soon as possible.
"More like school by the minute," Draco said dismissively. "We'd best
get going, Father'll cane me like a House-Elf if I'm late."
A
short Apparition later, Percy was striving to not look like he was
gawking shamelessly at the main reception room of Malfoy Manor. The
room was so large that it must have been enchanted to even fit in the
house, and one corner was occupied by a large orchestra whose soft
playing added an underlay of sophistication to the chatter of guests.
The guests themselves no more than half-filled the room at the moment,
but Percy supposed that most people preferred to be fashionably late.
He recognized many of the people present as Ministry members, and was
stunned by the sheer opulence of the dressrobes and jewelry weighing
down most guests.
Percy informed his hands that they were to remain at his sides and not
under any circumstances to wring themselves, no matter how
under-dressed he felt.
"Draco, darling," a voice purred behind them, startling Percy. Draco
turned, and Percy followed suit.
"Hello, Mother," Draco answered coolly. "I'd like you to meet Percy
Weasley, Father's new Chief of Correspondence. Percy, this is my
mother, Narcissa Malfoy."
"Charmed, Mr. Weasley," Mrs. Malfoy said, obviously anything but. She
turned back to her son. "I was under the impression that you had gone
to fetch your companion for the evening?"
"Yes," Draco nodded, "Percy has a charming place right off Diagon
Alley."
Suppressing amusement at Draco's characterization of his flat as
'charming', Percy was wondering why Draco had changed the subject until
he noticed the corner of Mrs. Malfoy's eye twitching and realized that
Draco hadn't.
Oh merciful Circe, Percy moaned
silently, I've only been promoted a
week and I'm going to be fired for being the Minister's son's date…
To
Percy's horror, Draco kept right on explaining.
"Father said I had to find someone suitable at the Ministry," he said
easily. "He can hardly argue about members of his own staff. Or has
Father got into the habit of hiring unsuitable people recently?"
Narcissa was opening her mouth to seal Percy's fate, when something
over Draco's shoulder caught her eye and caused her expression to
tighten. "Macnair's trying to liberate a champagne tray from one of the
House-Elves. If you would like to make yourself useful, get over there
and keep him from embarrassing himself before dinner is even served.
And take your companion with you."
Lightheaded with relief, Percy had trailed Draco halfway across the
room before he could breathe easily enough to rage properly.
"Just what do you think you're on about?" he demanded, glancing around
to make sure no one was near enough to eavesdrop.
"Oh
relax," Draco replied. "You're only one of the minor disasters this
evening. By the time Kathryn Mulciber starts handing out drunken sex
advice, Mother'll have forgotten all about you."
"Look here," Percy fought to keep his voice low, "this may be all fun
and games to you, but I have to work with these people! You're putting
my entire career in jeopardy!"
"Number one," Draco rolled his eyes, "Father knows that I'm being
purposefully taxing, and for that matter so does Mother. That's how our
little game works: he makes silly threats, like 'find some brainless
boob job to bring to my party or I'll disinherit you' and then I
subvert him by finding the loophole, in this case his lack of gender
specification."
"I
am not a boob job!” Percy started, but was immediately interrupted.
"Number two, if there's anybody who's in absolutely no danger of being
fired, it's you."
"I…what?" Percy blinked. "Don't be ridiculous!"
"Weasley, you have to be the only person in the entire Ministry who
still fantasizes that my father really is innocent," Draco said. "I
mean, you can't buy that sort of stubborn ignorance. My father could
ask you to send a ticking package from Vol D. Mort to A. Dumbledore and
you wouldn't even blink."
"You're changing the subject," Percy snapped, his ears burning.
“Haven’t you noticed the questionable nature of the guests here? I mean
honestly, there's Macnair, Dolohov, Mulciber, Rookwood…"
"They're all Ministry officials!"
"Your naiveté is adorable." Draco patted Percy's shoulder.
"However, If I'm going to have to listen to you prattle on about the
wonders of government, I am going to need a drink. Fortunately, our
dear friend Macnair has liberated a tray of champagne from a House-Elf,
so if you'd kindly follow me…"
******
Percy arrived at his office Monday morning, wishing vaguely that he was
still hungover so that he'd have some excuse for feeling like he'd been
trampled by a Chinese Fireball. What he really needed was some time to
sit and think.
What
he did not need was a fern which was practically de-potting itself in
excitement and had turned everything on top of his desk into soggy pulp
over the course of the weekend. Percy thought about dropping the plant
in the dustbin right on top of his ruined desk calendar, but reasoned
that it would probably just crawl out again.
Additionally, he did not need a paper airplane zipping into the room
and nearly poking out his eye, especially one which demanded he come
and see the Minister first thing that morning.
I'm going to be fired, he thought
mournfully. Again. Just once I'd
like to be fired for something that's actually my fault. Embezzling
perhaps. There's some glory in embezzling. At least you get your name
in the papers…
Percy considered simply quitting just to save the Ministry the trouble
of firing him over and over, but in the end it was no surprise that he
was standing in front of the Minister's door at 8:55 AM precisely. When
Minster Malfoy's secretary waved him in, Percy squared his shoulders
and entered, determined to spend his last moments as Chief of
Correspondence with his head held high.
By
the time he was actually standing in front of Minister Lucius Malfoy's
desk, Percy had entered a numb stage, which is why his voice did not
crack when he said "Good morning, Minister" and he did not curl up in a
fetal ball when the Minister replied "I want to talk to you concerning
my son."
"You
are friends with him, are you not?"
Percy opened his mouth to say no, but then realized that he'd spent
more time with Draco in the last week than he'd spent with his roommate
ever. And he had invited Percy to a party.
"I
suppose so," Percy replied. Lucius raised an eyebrow at the tone of
vague surprise, but continued.
"As
you may have noticed, my son suffers from a severe lack of maturity,"
Lucius said, "a situation which needs immediate repair. I have tried
everything I can think of with no result. It was my hope that you, as
someone who spends more time with my son, might have some suggestions."
A
moment of dead silence followed, in which it slowly dawned on Percy
that he was not in fact being fired.
"It's becoming rather a large issue," the Minister said.
"Er," Percy cleared his throat, stalling for time while he thought, "I
suppose there are many ways to foster maturity, but the way I would
recommend would be, hm…" Percy suddenly remembered telling Draco that
his problem was that he didn't have to support himself. "I think Draco
would benefit most of all from having to live on his own."
"I
am not convinced setting my son loose on society would do anything but
exacerbate the problem," Lucius said.
"With all due respect, sir," Percy figured now that he actually had a
reasonable idea he might as well stick with it, "I think independent
living might be exactly what Draco needs. He'd have to pay his own
rent, keep a job, do his own laundry…life without House-Elves might do
very positive things for Draco."
The
Minister stared at Percy for a long moment, but Percy didn't drop his
eyes, confidant his suggestion had been a good one, and finally the
Minister said he would consider Percy’s suggestion. Percy wandered out
of the Minister’s office in a daze and returned to the office that was
surprisingly still his.
That
afternoon, Percy was sedating the fern with a fertilizer spike when
Draco resumed his daily visits. Striding in with his customary lack of
greeting, Draco sat on the edge of Percy's desk and regarded him.
"Do
you want to be my flatmate?" Draco asked.
"Do
I what?' Percy demanded.
"Malfoy, you have already wreaked quite enough havoc in my life for one
day!"
"My
father's on some new trip," Draco waved a hand vaguely. "He thinks
living on my own will make me a man or some such thing. Mother’s paying
for the flat of course, but Father'll never believe I can afford the
place on my own, so I'll need a flatmate as well."
"As…interesting as that is," Percy said, wondering how his suggestion
could have managed to backfire so badly, "I'm going to have to say no
thank you, since I already have a flat. You've seen the flat, in fact,
you might remember it."
"I
have indeed," Draco agreed. "It's a hole. A pit. A closet. You could
put two of it in my closet and still have room for my shoes. You're
never going to have a better offer than this."
"What exactly," Percy inquired, "is your offer? Mind you, I'm only
asking out of morbid curiosity."
"You be my flatmate, and you can take care of the cooking and all that
sort of thing."
"And?" Percy prompted.
"That's it, that's the offer."
Percy shook his head and went back to looking at his papers.
"I
won't charge you rent," Draco announced. Percy sighed and set down his
quill, rubbing his temples for a moment before looking at Draco.
"I
mean, it isn't like I'm paying for it, so what do I care if you chip
in?" Draco shrugged. "On the other hand, I've no idea how one procures
food and clothes without the intermediary of a House-Elf. So, to sum
up, I free you from your hovel, and you provide me with sustenance and
laundry."
Put
that way, even Percy had to admit that it was a very attractive offer.
Which is why that evening found him trailing after Draco to inspect the
new flat, and the evening after found him Flooing his things to his new
room and Apparating there for good, after delivering a very satisfying
Staticus hex to the hated cat. Percy had been on the receiving end of
that particular hex more than once, and it made touching anything
metal, such as the cat's food dish, extremely unpleasant for the
duration.
Details of Draco and Percy's arrangement came under some finagling
during the first few days of their cohabitation, and ended with the
understanding that Draco could demand anything he wanted for meals, so
long as he submitted to helping Percy cook it.
"You
have to learn sometime," Percy informed him, crossing his arms firmly
and refusing to take back the whisk that Draco was waving at him.
"Life's too short to worry about rubbish like this!" Draco whined.
"It's impossible, I've ruined three already, nobody can do this without
magic, I think you're cheating somehow!"
"They're only omelettes, Draco," Percy rolled his eyes and pushed Draco
back towards the stovetop. He spared a moment to wonder how Draco had
managed to get green peppers stuck to the ceiling, but supposed that
for a man who could make instant pudding explode, anything was
possible.
The
summer was passing surprisingly quickly in this manner, until the night
Percy came home to a flat that smelled extremely odd. Percy sniffed the
air suspiciously, and the fern, cradled in the crook of Percy's arm,
took a tentative swipe at the air with several fronds.
"You're late, you know!" Draco called. If Percy didn't know better, he
would have said that the voice had come from the kitchen.
"Am
I in the right flat?" Percy called back, crossing the front room and
heading for the kitchen. "It's smells rather odd in here, almost as if
someone was making…" Percy trailed off as he entered the kitchen and
saw Draco setting a dish of potatoes on the table with a
self-congratulatory smirk. "…dinner."
"What've you brought that plant home for?" Draco wrinkled his nose.
"You spoil that thing rotten."
"I
couldn't leave it tonight, I had important papers on my desk and it
gets very destructive when it's lonely," Percy replied, but he set the
fern down on the counter. He shook his head at the contents of the
table, which looked actually edible. "You couldn't have done this on
your own, out with it, what've you done with the take away containers?"
"Ha
ha, feel free to search, you won't find anything." Draco smirked harder
as he produced a box of matches and leaned forward to light candles
that Percy hadn't noticed on the table, which were sitting next to a
bottle of fairly decent wine. Percy narrowed his eyes as he suddenly
became aware that the wireless was warbling something in Italian.
"Dinner, candles, music, wine," Percy raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy, you
aren't trying to seduce me or something ridiculous like that, are you?"
"You
have no taste for presentation," Draco replied, shaking out the match
with a deft flick of the wrist. "I live here, Weasley, if I wanted to
seduce you, I'd just crawl into your bed naked in the middle of the
night."
"I'd
toss you out on your bony little arse," Percy snorted before flicking
off the overhead light and sliding into his chair. Draco wiggled the
offending arse in Percy’s direction before sitting down himself.
The
food was the most respectable thing that Draco had managed yet, which
Percy grudgingly admitted out loud, and Draco made a face that Percy
had never seen before. It took him a moment to recognize a genuine
smile on Draco’s lips.
Under the influence of good wine and an impending weekend, Percy felt
no immediate need to get out of his chair and do the dishes, and Draco
seemed unlikely to disagree. They remained at the table long after they
were finished eating, trading amiable insults over the remains of the
meal.
After a while, as Percy watched Draco refilling his wine glass, he
realized that he had no idea how many glasses of wine he had consumed.
He covered his glass with a clumsy hand and protested that he had work
the next morning, but Draco nudged his hand with the bottled and talked
him into it anyway. Draco poured the rest of the bottle for himself and
wrinkled his nose when it didn't make quite half a glass.
"Can't have that." Draco held out a hand and called a bottle from a
cabinet with a lazy Accio. It
fell into his hand with a satisfying slap and he finished filling up
his own glass before leaning over to top off Percy's.
"We
both have work tomorrow, you know," Percy reminded, jabbing a finger in
the general direction of Draco. He had a bit of trouble making all the
fingers go the right way, which Draco found to be rather funny. After
scowling for a second, Percy started snickering as well. Draco reached
over the table and folded Percy’s fingers in the proper configuration.
Percy tried to look severe and pointed again, but it didn’t work so
well since Draco hadn’t let go of his hand yet. Draco let go at last to
pick up his wine glass.
"Fucking Ministry." Draco returned to the subject at hand, taking a
long draught of wine and leaning his chin on his free hand. "It's an
awful job, really. Awful place, the Ministry, mucking everything up."
"Worst thing's the Ministry's ever guilty of is nepotism!" Percy
declared automatically. Realizing who he was talking to, Percy covered
his mouth with a hand, but snickers crept out around it. Draco narrowed
his eyes.
"Are
you calling me a nepot, Weasley?" Draco demanded, brandishing his
wineglass. Still giggling, Percy reached over with his own and clinked
their glasses together in a mock-toast.
"S'not a word, nepot." Percy took a long swallow of wine, considering.
"But if it was you'd be one. Or would your father be the nepot?” He
noticed that the word felt funny rolling off his tongue. “Nepot. Nepot.
Nepot…"
"Leave my father out of it," Draco ordered. "We're talking about the
Ministry.” Peering closely at Percy, Draco furrowed his brow.
“You’re always on about the bleeding Ministry. Just what is it with you
and it, anyway? Why’re you always defending it when most of the time it
couldn’t find its own arse with two hands and an Accio?"
“Why’re you always bad-mouthing the Ministry?” Percy shot back,
reluctant to relinquish his pointing now that he had managed it. It was
proving useful. “It isn’t like you could do any better.”
“The hell I couldn’t!” Draco exclaimed. “I could get myself appointed
as Minister without getting anybody Kissed, I can tell you that much.”
He waved Percy off when his usual spluttering started up. “Oh don’t
start, we all know you think my father’s the pinnacle of innocence and
Fudge framed him, but what I want to know is why.”
"Man's got to believe in something," Percy shrugged, slumping against
the back of his chair and feeling very pleasant. “Like some people
believe in Dumbledore, or You Know Who, or Quidditch. For me it’s the
Ministry. Without government, we’d be back in the trees, flinging our
shit at each other!”
"What about your precious Boy Who Lived," Draco asked. "Potter's the
savior of the wizarding world, isn't he? That’s what the rest of your
family’s always on about, along with every wizard in England and most
of the Muggles. Why don't you believe in him?"
"Haven't seen him in years," Percy shrugged, contemplating the swirl of
his wine when he moved his glass. "You've been to school with him till
now, why don't you believe in him?"
“I hate him, self-righteous little bastard,” Draco
sneered lazily. “Thinks he’d better than everybody else, breaks all the
rules, but he’s Dumbledore’s golden boy so he can do what he likes and
get made Head Boy besides…just like his father and all his miscreant
friends, my mother says. Tell you a secret?" Draco offered, leaning
across the table and Percy moved closer obligingly. "Potter's a bit of
a nutter. That sort of rhymes, doesn't it?"
"What do you mean?" Percy asked, leaning closer and making his chair
tip a bit, "what do you mean, he's a nutter?"
"He
went a bit…you know…" Draco twirled his finger in the general vicinity
of his ear. "Started in Sixth Year, he'd be in class and just snap,
stand up and start screaming, he'd hex you for no reason, violent stuff
really, but never got in trouble for it naturally. Had to do with Black
I think." Percy stared at Draco uncomprehendingly. "Black, Sirius
Black, twit, he was killed three years ago, remember?"
"So
what?" Percy wrinkled his brow in intense concentration. "Wasn't Black
trying to kill him? Killed Harry's parents…"
"You
really are dense, aren't you?" Draco reached across the table to pat
Percy’s hand condescendingly. "Sirius Black was his godfather, idiot,
he was innocent, spent thirteen years in Azkaban for something he
didn’t even do. Even your darling Ministry pardoned Black two years
ago, after Pettigrew turned up again, during that break-in at the
Department of Mysteries. Anyway, my Aunt caught Black right in the
chest," Draco let go of his wine glass to slap his own chest over his
heart, “and sent him through the Veil. No worries about pardoning him
if he’s dead, is there?”
"S'not right!" Percy sat up, ready to defend his Ministry against
unjust accusations no matter how wobbly his chair had suddenly become.
"Black killed all those people! He caused all that ruckus up at
Hogwarts the year I was Head Boy!"
"Was
th'other one, Pettigrew," Draco shook his head. "Framed him, was an
Animagus or some such thing, everybody's a sodding Animagus these days,
thinking of becoming one myself just so m'not out of fashion."
"What sort of Ani…ma…gus?" Percy asked, having to say the word very
carefully to get all the syllables out. His glass was empty again too,
and he thought somebody might be stealing his wine since he didn't
remember drinking any of it.
"Rat," Draco informed him, trying to point for emphasis but
unfortunately using the hand that was propping up his chin, and his
head flopped over onto his arm.
"I
had a rat once!" Percy announced. "My brothers bought him off M'dungus
Fletcher and he was missing a toe and he was a good rat!"
"You
had a secondhand rat, Weasley?" Draco giggled, staring up at Percy
lopsidedly. "Good lord, your family couldn't even afford new rats?
Couldn't you just catch them in your hovel?"
"You, sir, are a snob, and m’not going to sit here and take it!" Percy
lurched to his feet far too fast and nearly took a spill onto the
linoleum. Still giggling, Draco climbed more carefully to his feet and
slung an arm around Percy's shoulders.
"You
need to get t'bed," Draco said, swinging them towards the door. "You've
got work tomorrow!" Percy tried to retort, but a huge yawn took over
and he leaned heavily against Draco as they staggered towards the
doorway. They both tried to go through at once and got wedged in, stuck
halfway into the living room.
“Couldn’t you manage to get a flat with decent doorways?” Percy asked,
struggling and getting them wedged in even tighter.
“They were perfectly serviceable,” Draco said loudly between snickers,
“until you tried to shove your Muggle-loving arse through one!”
Percy shouted “Snob!” again before he started to snicker too, and Draco
yelled back “Weasley!” and by then they were laughing so hard that they
would have been leaning on each other anyway if they hadn’t already
been jammed in a doorway. Percy’s giggles died away as Draco’s head
lolled forward, his nose pressing against Percy’s neck, and Percy was
suddenly aware of how tightly they were wedged into the doorway,
Draco’s chest pressing against his with every gasp for air.
Draco stopped laughing suddenly, and Percy bent his head to look, and
their faces were so close that Percy wasn’t sure at first if Draco
really was kissing him, or just breathing.
It
turned out to be kissing, Percy was fairly sure, because breathing
didn’t tend to go on this long, nor was it as wet. Percy was too
surprised to even shut his eyes, although Draco’s had fluttered closed,
and Percy thought to himself that his flatmate was actually attractive
when his face wasn’t scrunched up in irritation. His lips weren’t half
bad either, actually, and Percy found himself kissing back and leaning
back against the doorframe.
Draco broke the kiss when he noticed Percy’s limp state, and managed to
slip free of the doorway.
“You
kissed me,” Percy said, feeling far too floppy to move his weight away
from the doorframe.
“It was a
goodnight kiss,” Draco informed him. “So goodnight.”
Draco weaved his way towards his bedroom, and Percy heaved himself into
motion a few minutes later.
*******
“Ebriate!”
Percy cracked an eye open and immediately wished he hadn't. Everything
hurt, his head and his mouth and his freckles even hurt.
"Sorry, Weasley, had to be done," a sleep-rough voice said. Percy
turned his head gingerly and saw Draco sitting on the edge of the bed,
holding out a glass of water. "Drink this, Sobering Charms are all well
and good, but they leave something to be desired in the way of
hydration."
Percy moaned a little as Draco pushed him to a mostly-sitting position
and shoved the glass into his hands. After managing to swallow a few
gulps, Draco took the glass from him right before it crashed to the
floor, and Percy slumped back down into his pillows thankfully.
The
next time he opened his eyes, Percy felt almost human, although some
bastard was still pounding away inside his skull on a large set of
drums. Percy attempted to roll over, only to find that he was being
held down. A glance down revealed a pale arm slung across his chest,
his bare chest, and this was not his bed and where the hell were all
his clothes and fucking hell enough with the headache already.
Percy gave the arm a shove off and Draco stirred beside him.
"Wazzat?" he asked, lifting his head just enough off the pillow to
reveal that he had a massive case of Potterhair. Percy tried to make an
alarmed exclamation, but only squeaked on the first try, his throat too
dried out to produce sound. The first swallow was rather painful.
"Oh
god," Percy managed on the second try. "Malfoy, we didn't, er, didn’t…"
"Fuck?" Draco supplied, stretching his arms above his head. "Don’t
think so. Why do you ask?"
"I
did wake up naked with your arms around me!" Percy snapped, trying to
dredge up some memories of the night before. "And you kissed me! And
why am I in your bed? And why are you naked?!”
"You
threw up on your robes," Draco explained, failing to smooth down his
hair any significant amount.
“And your bed, and then the floor, and then on me, and I think you
actually made it to the toilet the once, but in any case you passed out
in my bed after the Sobering Charm, and your own bed was in no state
for us to trade, as I've mentioned."
"Ugh," Percy sank back down onto his pillow, pressing fingers to his
temples. "What did you let me have all that wine for anyway?"
"How
was I to know what a lightweight you are?" Draco snorted. He rolled
over and snuggled back down into the blankets, rebuffing the rest of
Percy’s interrogation with grunts.
Percy struggled out of bed and made it to the doorway, despite a wave
of dizziness, and supported his weight against the doorframe.
Draco peered over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm
going to work," Percy said, drawing in deep breaths and willing the
nausea to pass. “You know, that place we’re supposed to show up at
every day?”
“It’s very professional
to go in while obviously hungover,” Draco commented.
"I'm
perfectly fine!” Percy sniffed. “I'll just be a bit late."
"Weasley, you may want to go into the bathroom and have a look at
yourself before you make any big plans for today,” Draco said before
laying his head back down. “And while you're there, have a shower.
You'd stand a fair chance against a Basilisk, the way you smell right
now."
Percy couldn't argue with the second statement, and once he'd made his
way down the hall and had a look at himself, he really couldn't argue
with the first remark either. He was sickly pale, with dark smudges
under his eyes. His hair stuck out at all angles and even his freckles
looked like some sort of strange rash.
The
hot shower and clean robes helped, although the headache persisted, and
Percy felt almost human as he re-entered Draco’s bedroom to make a
final inquiry.
"What did you do with my robes and sheets?" Percy asked.
"Disapparated them," Draco mumbled into his pillow. "Not sure where to,
possibly New Zealand. Have you decided to be sensible and take the day
off?"
"No," Percy reached up to massage his temples again, "I've got things
to do, and it's nearly the weekend…"
"Oh
honestly," Draco interrupted, "remove your work ethic from my bedroom,
you’re making my head pound."
Percy found Draco’s state of being much unchanged when he returned home
after work, although he had managed to get dressed and relocate to the
couch. Percy set his briefcase down in the kitchen and gave the fern a
pat before greeting his roommate.
“Merlin, are you drinking again?”
Draco glanced over, but saluted Percy with the wine bottle rather than
reply. Percy sighed.
“I’m going
to make dinner, at least eat something.”
“No
thanks,” Draco waved him off. “I’ve got one of my father’s functions
tonight, and I’d rather be as drunk as possible before I arrive.”
Not wanting to press the issue, Percy went back into the kitchen and
threw together various soup ingredients before spelling the pot to
simmer, not really feeling up to real food still. As dinner was
finishing, Draco wandered into the kitchen and pulled up a chair. Percy
sat a bowl of soup in front of him and handed him a spoon without
comment, before sitting down with his own bowl.
They
sat in silence for a while, Draco stirring his soup more than eating
it, until finally Percy spoke.
“You
want to tell me what’s wrong?” Draco glanced up and raised an eyebrow.
Percy just rolled his eyes. “I’ve been living with you all summer,
Malfoy, you’ve been drunk rather a lot in the last week or so, even for
you. Plus, you don’t seem to be concerned with the fact that you kissed
me last night and then woke up with me naked in your bed, so I can only
assume you are pondering larger matters.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Draco replied, standing up and putting his
barely-touched soup in the sink. “I’ve got to go. Don’t wait up,
Weasley.”
Percy frowned as Draco disappeared with a pop.
********
That
night, the slam of the front door woke Percy from a sound sleep, and he
fumbled for his glasses and glanced at his clock to see that it read
'The Wee Hours of the Morning'. Something niggled at Percy, and it took
him a moment to remember that Draco never used the door, he always
Apparated.
Getting up and finding his dressing his gown, Percy heard retching from
the bathroom. The hallway and the bathroom were both dark as Percy
padded his way towards the sound, and he was momentarily dazzled when
he flicked the bathroom light on. After blinking for a few seconds, he
made out Draco collapsed on the tile, clutching the toilet. His robes
were bunched around him, stiff with mud and other unidentifiable
substances, making Draco's slender figure look even smaller, fragile.
"You
okay?" Percy asked. He was about to step forward when he got a good
look at Draco's left arm curled on the toilet seat. Percy had gotten a
very good look that that arm this morning, when it was laying across
his chest, and it had looked rather different at the time.
Now,
the pale skin was marred by an angry tattoo, the ink too fresh and the
skin surrounding it raw. The snake met Percy's eyes for a long moment,
swaying drunkenly, before slithering silently into the skull it had
been curled around.
"Go
away," Draco ordered, voice raspy and weird. His cheek was pressed
against the toilet, eyes focused on nothing. "And turn out that fucking
light."
Percy flicked the light out automatically, but then he paused with his
hand still on the switch.
Percy was no medical expert, but Draco was very pale, even for Draco,
and his breathing sounded shallow and labored when it echoed off the
tile. Percy decided that although generally he tried to respect Draco's
wishes, in this case they could be disregarded since he was obviously
too sick to make appropriate decisions. Besides, if Draco expired,
Percy would have a difficult time explaining to the authorities why his
roommate was lying dead in his bathroom with a Dark Mark.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut and cursed when Percy turned the lights
back own, but Percy ignored him. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub,
Percy coaxed Draco out of robes that were sodden with mud and slime and
blood that didn't come from any cuts that Percy could see, but he
shoved all those thoughts aside and helped him into the tub.
Percy held Draco up in the shower, heedless of his own pajamas, which
had nasty smears in several places from Draco's robes anyway. He let
the hot water wash over them until it ran clear, pretending that the
snuffling noise coming from Draco was because you got the sniffles if
you sat on cold tiles in wet robes.
After the initial struggling, Draco fell limp and let Percy do what
needed to be done. Percy turned the shower off when some color came
back into Draco's cheeks and helped him out, mindful of the slick
tiles. Wrapping a towel around Draco and making sure he wasn't going to
tip over if not held up, Percy tugged off his pajamas, soaked and
stained with god knew what, and left them on the bathroom floor next to
Draco's robes. He made a mental note to return at the earliest
opportunity to Disapparate the entire pile to someplace remote. Perhaps
they could join his robes from the night before on a holiday in New
Zealand.
Percy led Draco towards his bedroom and sat him down on the bed.
"Do
you think you'll be sick again?" Percy asked. Draco shrugged a little,
but mostly just sat there, staring at Percy blankly. He was shivering,
Percy saw, but it seemed to lessen after he coaxed Draco under his
blankets. Percy told Draco that he was only going to the kitchen for
some water and that if he needed anything he should call.
In
the kitchen, Percy drank half a glass of water to calm his nerves and
found himself staring down at the papers he’d brought from the
office. He'd been working on them earlier and had left them on
the table before going to bed. He reached down to straighten them, and
a half sheet of parchment slid out.
Examining it idly, Percy recognized it as the RSVP list for the
Minister's latest party, and noticed that it had been tonight.
Must've been the one Draco went to,
he thought before noting the names with a growing sense of unease.
Mulciber, Macnair, Rookwood, the usual people were no surprise, but the
back of his neck prickled when he saw a P. T. Grew and then a Lester
Range and then…
Percy collapsed into a chair, clutching the parchment. He'd been
staring at this list for the better part of the last two weeks, how
could he not have seen it before? But he'd been so busy, and there'd
been lists like this all summer…
All
summer. Percy felt suddenly cold. He bent to snatch his briefcase from
where it was leaning against the wall and quickly rifled through the
papers inside, coming up with a handful of lists very similar to the
most recent one.
July
27th, Percy saw, and remembered filing it away the day after while
listening to a wireless report of Muggles murdered in Bristol. He
flipped several more lists over and saw July 12th, the same day as an
explosion in a Muggle Tube station that had put half of London in a
panic. Feeling choked, Percy saw June 30th, June 16th, May 22nd…
And
then a hazy conversation from that party he'd gone to with Draco clawed
its way out of his subconscious.
Draco, rather mangled, leaning heavily on
an equally mangled Percy's shoulder and whispering tidbits about the
guests into his ear, 'he's the one who slit the Bones' throats' and 'she could snap an auror's neck
with her bare hands in her prime' and
'those two hold the record for most Muggles murdered in a single
weekend'…
Sickened, Percy shoved the memory away and concentrated on the list on
the parchment. He had the whole Death Eater roster in his hands, he
should owl Dumbledore, or his father…Percy gave a choked laugh at the
image of his father receiving this owl. 'Dear Dad, sorry we haven't
spoke in months, but I've come across a list of Death Eaters, thought
you might want a peek, give my love to Mum…'
They'll never believe me, Percy
thought sadly. Only an idiot
could've missed all the clues, the Minister of Magic is the head Death
Eater, and I've been sending out all the Death Eater party invitations
and living with his son…
The
Ministry was the only place he had to turn, Percy decided at last.
There must be someone he could go to who would help, who hadn't been
tainted yet. That was what government was for after all, wasn't it, to
protect the people it governed? Percy was sure that the Ministry would
have acted before now if they only knew how dire the situation had
become. No doubt the Minis…Malfoy had been suppressing any attempts to
shake off the corruption of the Death Eaters.
Perhaps Percy simply hadn't know where to look for help until now,
hadn't known he was even supposed to be looking. Now that his panic was
starting to subside, Percy saw that obviously not every single person
at the Ministry could possibly be working for You Know Who. If he just
was sensible until the proper authorities could be notified, everything
would turn out all right.
But
nothing could be done until Monday morning, Percy reminded himself. He
only had to keep his head until then.
Percy tucked the parchment with the list neatly back into its place
among his other papers and tucked the whole stack into his briefcase
before standing up. He paused in the hallway, but heard no noises of
distress from Draco's room, so he went on to the bathroom to clean up
the mess they'd left.
One
look at the robes and pajamas lying in a puddle of their own filth, and
Percy went to fetch his wand before cheerfully sending the whole heap
on a Zealandic holiday. His only regret was that at the rate he was
going, he'd be going to work naked by Monday, which would not make a
good impression on the Ministry resistance member he needed to contact.
Percy decided to check on Draco a final time before going back to bed.
Draco was wide awake when Percy came in, laying on his side with his
left arm stretched out in front of him and poking the Mark with his
other hand.
Suddenly conscious that he was still naked, Percy sat down quickly on
the edge of Draco's bed so he wouldn't be waving about and asked how
Draco felt.
"Hurts," Draco said, wincing as he pushed at the Mark.
"You
shouldn't pick at it, you'll…" Percy cut himself off as he realized
that making it worse was not a likely outcome. If Draco knew what Percy
had been about to say, he didn't respond, other than to poke himself
again.
Draco remained silent when Percy asked if he wanted his arm looked at,
but he let his other arm flop out of the way acquiescently. Percy
shifted closer and reached out to lay tentative fingers across the
Mark. It felt nearly hot enough to burn, and he hissed in surprise, but
stopped himself just short of yanking his hand away. Instead, he
pressed his palm over the Mark, hoping to siphon off some of the heat
into his own skin.
Draco sucked in a breath and went rigid, but then relaxed slightly, and
some of the lines around his mouth faded a little. It felt strange, the
tingle of magic seeming to soak into Percy along with the heat, but
instead of the crisp feeling of regular magic, the aftertaste of Dark
magic was oily and thick. Percy held on until he couldn't tell the
difference between his skin and Draco's before finally pulling his hand
away. He asked how it felt.
"Hurts less," Draco reported. "How did…" he flexed his hand instead of
finishing the question. Percy shrugged, wiping his hand subtlety on the
blanket beside him, trying to rid it of the greasy feeling.
"It
was hot, and…" Percy paused and tried to gather his instincts into a
concise thought. "You know when you've left your broom out in the sun
and you squeeze the handle until it cools enough to hold? I thought it
might work like that."
Draco stared at Percy long enough that the tips of Percy's ears turned
red for doing something so ridiculous, but then a tiny half-smile
quirked Draco's lips.
"You
Weasleys do have your uses," he said, and Percy pursed his lips but
decided to take the compliment. After a short silence Draco asked,
"What are you going to do?"
"Do?" Percy asked, thinking about his vague plan to find somebody at
the Ministry.
"Even you have to realize that if you go on living with me, they'll
come for you. What are you going to do, decline politely?"
"And
what'll they do if I stop living with you?" Percy asked. Draco dropped
his eyes rather than answer, and Percy was abruptly too tired to even
slink back to his own bed.
"Budge over," he ordered, stretching out beside Draco, who shifted a
bit to the side.
"Crawling naked into my bed in the middle of the night?" Draco said,
"Weasley, you aren't trying to seduce me, are you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Percy replied, "if I wanted to seduce you I'd
cook you a mediocre meal, have the wireless whine in Italian, and pour
wine down your throat till you passed out."
"It
was opera, you uncultured
swine," Draco retorted. He reached over to shove Percy off the bed, but
Percy caught his arms, and they tussled for a moment before Percy
slapped the Mark by accident. Draco gasped and Percy dropped his hands
like he'd been burned.
"We
can get an aloe plant for that tomorrow," Percy offered quietly after a
short silence. "I'm not sure if it will help, but that's what Charlie
used at first when he had his tattoo done. It's good for burns too."
"Stop mentioning your ridiculous Muggle remedies!" Draco shouted, the
sudden volume making Percy flinch. "It's not a burn and it's not a
tattoo, it's a fucking DARK MARK!" Draco turned onto his side and
hunched in a ball, eventually adding, "There's nothing you can do."
"Draco…" Percy started, touching his shoulder.
"Go
away, Weasley." Draco merely sounded exhausted now. "Go back to
Dumbledore and your Wizarding Savior and your Muggle-loving family and
get as far away from me as you possibly can."
Percy sighed and gave Draco's shoulder a squeeze before letting his
hand drop, more convinced than ever that the only place he could go was
to work as usual on Monday and find someone who would listen and
realize that the Ministry had to act. And then everything would be all
right.
A
snort from Draco informed Percy that that last bit had been out loud.
Shrugging to himself, Percy rolled over to face the door of the room.
He slid his wand within easy reach under the pillow and laid his
glasses on the nightstand, then carefully pressed his back against
Draco's, not sure if he was offering or seeking comfort, but fully
expecting him to pull away.
Draco didn't move at all for a long time, long enough that Percy
imagined that he had gone to sleep, but then he began to relax against
Percy by degrees, until he was mostly uncurled and Percy could feel his
breathing start to even out. Eventually Percy began to relax as well,
still staring at the door and with Draco warm against his back.
Percy woke for the second morning in a row in a bed that wasn’t his,
curled up next to the bed’s owner, but this time at least he had
avoided the roaring headache. He turned his head to see Draco wide
awake, poking at his Dark Mark again.
“People are going to start thinking we’re sleeping together,” Percy
commented.
“They’d be right, wouldn’t they?” Draco asked. He continued to
contemplate his arm. “I meant it, you know. You really should get out
of here.”
“Forget it, Malfoy, you’re stuck with me,” Percy replied, rolling back
over and getting comfortable. “Someone has to pick your drunken arse
off the bathroom floor and clean you up. Besides, I’d have to go
crawling back to my old roommate, and he never kissed me goodnight.”
"Fucking Gryffindor," Draco snarled, giving Percy’s back a shove.
"Better not let the Dark Lord hear about that," Percy said.
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