Title: Political Beliefs.
Present To: lj user"honeycakehorse"
Rating: R
Pairing: Percy Weasley/ Kingsley Shacklebolt
Beta: lj user"maajaml"
Author: lj user"fallenshateiel"
-----------------------------------------
I Ruins, my family! Minds like my own
I bid you every night a last farewell!
Weighed down by God's own wrath implacable? /I
B Baudelaire /b
There are many things about the spoils of war that make the bones of the next experienced Auror ache. They are the spoils who in victory do not even seem right.
Yet it is not among the ranks of fighters nor the death marches of prisoners that try and justify each course of these actions.
Not at all.
Every single word of justification comes from the lips of a man with ideals different from our own.
A fuckin' politician.
"… It is my great honour to appoint Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of the Auror Division." The sallow skin is old and ill, that broad smile is shadowed by it.
There is applause in the crowd for this man of high prestige.
He's a big man. Heavy in build and near black of skin. With the eyes of a hawk and the voice of a bear, the man is everything anyone wants in a protector.
A big white flash of this man's smile is enough to have all the people in the crowd relax and hope for something better than what they have had.
Alas, that is not what the inside of this political spectrum wishes for.
" Minister, you cannot hope for any good to come out of this!" This man is thin with a round face. His thin hair is greying in what seems to be a premature fashion.
"Yes, I can." Scrimgeour, he is a man of conviction and a very I 'There' /I presence. He is the man whose seen more and will do more than any Minister has done for the past century.
"… Shacklebolt is an Auror." The face is pinched in anxiety. "He cares nothing for politics and he will bring you down!"
" Enough!" The Minister is throwing his arm up in that gesture of anger. "I can give many reasons why it would be a good idea to have Shacklebolt as the Head of the Auror Division! Nor do I need to explain why this is, Johansson."
A new voice enters the conversation.
"Minister, the Wizenmagot is waiting."
"Yes of course, Weasley." The Minister has his own greying mane of hair. He leaves with Johansson at his side.
"Also Weasley, I need you to go to Gringotts and talk to the goblins about the loan being at hand for the Auror Department."
"Yes sir."
Percy feels awkward. After all, he is in a domain dominated by another redhead, one whom he's never been very comfortable with, even in ideal circumstances.
Yet here he is standing. His back has a kink he's going crazy over. He wishes he could crack it.
But really, how professional would that be?
"Well, if it isn't I The Headboy. ./I
Percy can feel the kink more profoundly now. His entire attention is focussed on it and all he can wish is for the moment he can be in private to bend and get rid of it.
"Percy Weasley, Isamgok will see you now." This goblin has a scar crossing right over his lips.
Percy nods the kink melting, though there are still eyes still burning into his back.
"I do not like the many ways this could go wrong." The dark eyes narrow.
"But consider the fact that the chances of this loan not being used is still high---"
"There has never been a human war without over spending money."
"But –"
"No. This bank is governed by goblins and that is why there has never been an international mandate set on us and without extreme radicalism. I That /I is why Mr. Weasley, we are the best."
The young redhead lowers his eyes in defeat.
Needless to say Minister for Magic is not impressed.
Not one bit.
"Sir, if I may—"
"No. Kingsley, both you and I know that Mr. Weasley should have been able to handle this himself." There is a distinct chill that goes down Percy's spine at these words.
Auror Shacklebolt is standing at Percy left, opposed to the Minister remains sitting, arms crossed at his desk.
Percy can feel both the heat bottle in his stomach and the coldness lick at his neck.
The Minister takes out a folder opens it to a page.
"However one takes caution in such matters anyways."
"Sir?"
"Let me finish Kingsley. There is a matter with the Muggle Prime Minister that may allow I this /I situation to ratify itself." The Minister pauses before going on to explain himself.
"The Muggle Prime Minister is concerned for Britain because of this new war. Since it I is /I in our best interest to accept the help he persistent we take." The Minister takes a deep breath before going on.
"The measures he would like to take are perhaps not going to be at all well received, but they may help us—"
Kingsley's deep barrelling voice is swift with reply, "You would have the Muggle's kill I us /I as they kill each other!"
"No! I would have us I live /I then to be found out and burnt slowly at the stakes!"
Percy watches with wary eyes as the lion and the bear face each other, both very powerful and very potent.
Minister Scrimgeour's eyes flick over to the redhead for a moment.
"We will discuss this later.
For now Weasley, you will approach the Prime Minister. You will act as a secretary for him and as messenger between the two of us. Is this understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Good."
Now Percy isn't without some understanding. He knows that the reason Kingsley's so concerned about the Muggle's is because of the extremities Muggle's go through when they are on the brink of war.
But what he can't quite understood is why the Minister wants Shacklebolt close to him, if he is not going got heed the warnings.
Though if one were to factor in Johansson's worry, they would have to wonder why the Minister would select Shacklebolt, who was obviously a part of Dumbledore's inner circle. It is the part that still remains the same with Harry Potter. Why would the Minister want someone whose loyalties clearly indicate that he's not to be controlled?
There is also the other thought that Shacklebolt is much more likable than perhaps any others inside the Ministry…
A thin finger goes to push the brim of the horn rims back to his nose. The sigh that escapes those soft red lips is oddly exhausted for a young man such as Percy Weasley.
Yet he still pulls the folder towards himself and begins his task for background learning.
There's a strangeness of the place he stands. The smell in the air is not one of parchments and burning fireplaces. There are no ink blotches staining the ceramic walls and virtually everyone is walking around with blocks of dough, talking to it in their hands.
It is a strange world Percy Weasley has embarked, and by some foreshadows it is about to become stranger yet.
He approaches a big desk with three people working. One talking to a dough, another seems to have a black hand and talking to the sky. The only one looking vaguely interested at him is a man with obviously better things to do.
"Yes?"
Percy draws himself up, determined not to feel like a moron in front of this man.
"Percy Weasley—"
"5th floor to the right, room 511."
The Prime Minister is a man of ordinary status. He's not a war hero, entertainer or a stoic person. Those are not the words of a higher educated man. Not the charming smile of a man in the spotlight. Nor does the mockery of the perfect leave scars of scorn on his mouth.
Yet Percy admires a man such as this deeply.
"Mr. Weasley, would you explain to me how the house elves are not seen as slaves?"
Percy feels a slight drop in temperature between his shoulder blades.
"It is because they serve us. Most of them are bound by a deep blood inheritance to their owner. A locking that cannot be broken. It is deep into the binds of magic and possibly a law that cannot be changed."
The dark brown eyes peer over at him sharply. "Did your family have one?"
Percy feels an odd happiness he's never associated with house elves fill his chest.
"No Sir."
I Mornings filled with soft rainfall, make the world seem as though it's cleansing itself. /I
It's a nice thought to have while drinking coffee and reading the Daily Prophet, only to spit it out at the squawking owl.
Kingsley Shacklebolt.
That's the man Percy runs to as he tries to evaluate what has happened.
Though to be perfectly honest he thinks he might be overreacting to some piece of writing that could mean nothing at all.
Something Percy could be blowing out of proportion.
These are thoughts going through the redhead as he breathes heavily trying to run as fast as he can. The way his feet connect with the ground has shooting pains pulsing upwards to his pelvis.
By the time he's stopped running he is unable to catch a solid breath and his head feels as though it's going to both float in the clouds, and explode. He can feel the icy coldness of the horn rims frames on his cheekbones.
He is not too sure how to think anymore.
He's now at the Apparation Point. Closes his eyes.
Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"—So that's a product that we hope to launch when this is over."
Percy can hear the voice. He can match that voice to the person. A person with a double, with that stocky figure.
He feels betrayed.
I WEASLEY'S HOME TURNED TO RUBBLE!!" /I
Turned to rubble his skinny arse.
The thing he can't believe, as he stays crouched at the corner before the front door at the small little cottage is that they didn't tell him.
True they may not be on speaking terms, but it does not mean he is heartless enough that the thought of having his family gone forever would not hurt.
Yet alas, this hurts even more.
He can hear the voices and lets them wash over himself as he tries to allow the hurt drain from his now aching bones.
He thinks he could be more focussed with the tasks on hand. But he isn't, hasn't been so all week.
To be honest, he is entitled to have been informed. But no one was inclined to have the decency of telling the Third Oldest Son that his family was going to feign being dead.
Of course they wouldn't do him that I tiny /I courtesy.
Of course not.
He can feel the heat in his cheeks as he tries hard to keep in control. But every time there is a person out there saying something to anyone, all he can think of is how no one says anything to him.
How no one ever says anything to him.
He's tried to do things nice. Just like with his family. He only followed what he believed in.
And he believed in the Ministry.
His father taught him that no one should go against what they believe in. His mother honed the creation of his beliefs, which rules were to be followed so that way nothing could go wrong.
Everything had a strict code attached to it. If you messed up on the code then everything was going to fall apart.
He didn't stick to the code when it came to Penny or when it came to Ginny…
But Phoenix be damned if he was going to misstep when it came to the Ministry business.
He stuck to the code and yet it didn't work.
Beliefs mean nothing.
He ducks his head as more and more people in the crowd start paying more attention to him.
I
Kingsley A. Shacklebolt
Head of Auror Division
Great Britain
Ministry for Magic, London
September 25.
Percy Ignatius Weasley
Secretary to the Prime Minister
Great Britain
Parliament Buildings, London
RE: Recent Developments with the Magical warfare front.
The recent developments are that there are several new divisions of vampires, werewolves, giants and other dark creatures that are willing to fight us.
Lethifold evidence has now been found. Causing major concern.
The Dementor situation has not fixed itself.
We are working on a better defence.
Keep the Prime Minister pacified with that. /I
Percy lets out a sigh.
How is he supposed to keep the Prime Minister satisfied with that information, when there is no information?
The man is getting restless and he wants to place his own army against the Dark Side. The Prime Minster himself repeatedly tells Percy this. And Percy repeats this back to the Minister for Magic. I Both /I of them want it their way.
The only thing about it is that only one can have what he wants. That I one /I has a definite advantage over the other.
Scrimgeour knows he's wrestling with Luck that the Prime Minister is easily distracted right now. But the Prime Minister won't be for much longer and that is something that is causing Percy along with others major concern.
Mostly because there is no sure sense of what the Prime Minister will want to be done.
Percy doesn't really know.
Or rather he knows next to nothing at all. Only that he is to distract a man who is not a man to be distracted.
"Sir? You called for my assistance?"
The Prime Minster turns around from the window with great enthusiasm.
"Ah, yes! Mr. Weasley, could you come with me? There is a man I would like to introduce to you"
Percy nods. Neither sure if he should be more than wary of what the Prime Minster seems to be excited about, or that there is someone else who is being made aware of Percy's presence in this grand scheme of things.
"Sir? What would this entitle?" There shouldn't be much to it.
Or at least that's what Percy's thinking to himself.
"He wishes to ask you some questions."
Percy nods.
The Prime Minister of Great Britain smiles then goes to the phone and talks of those matters that are small yet significant.
He could ask the question as to why the man would send him an owl post.
He did after all get a felophone in his apartment, to the Prime Minister's request.
However he opens the letter letting out a frustrated breath of wonder as he tries to understand why this invitation for brunch should come I now /I .
Kingsley Shacklebolt.
It puzzles the young redhead as to why this should be so appealing, in the reason that he'd be in the presence of Shacklebolt once again. Why should it matter that the man is strong of character without being over ambitious?
Not that it does matter.
Well, it sort of does.
Though as the young redhead touches the brim of his glasses he flinches slightly at the sudden thought he conceives.
I What if he tipped off some sensory wards when he ran to find the Weasley's? /I
Not a pleasant thought. It brings back the rather cold neutrality to whatever warmth was bursting in his chest.
"So what would you say of the hiding?"
Percy stares at this man with his bad skin and electric blue eyes.
"I would say that in hiding a world such as the Magical one is a necessity." Percy isn't sure what the man wants him to say. Percy just knows that it makes sense to hide such a world from this one.
Those blue eyes light up in anger for a moment. Because he has been trying rewording the same questions but to no good.
"What is the Magical World afraid of? Witch hunts again?" Honestly, how the hell could Percy know this?
Percy pauses to think before saying his answer. "I was taught, like every other person in the Magical World that if you told a Muggle who you were they would get you to do their bidding—"
"But couldn't you just control us since you do the magic?"
"No, because it's—" Percy tries to figure out an answer. One that this unrelenting man could be contented with. " It's like how the North rules over the South on the globe. Technically it isn't something that makes sense because the South is the one that has the food we eat in winter. It has the warm climates, all the people.
So why isn't it ruling us?"
The man with his bad skin and blue I blue /I eyes nods. "So circumstance?"
Percy smiles this soft smile.
No. Not circumstance.
A condition.
"So how is it working with the Prime Minister?" Kingsley has a chunk of undercooked pancakes on his fork.
Percy has his head down. He's been rather embarrassed this entire meal so far because he thinks that he is going to be called on showing up at Shacklebolt's.
So far, so good.
"It's fine. The man is rather admirable." He's talking to his glass and hopes that he doesn't feel even more embarrassed.
"Percy. I'm hoping since now that we are close colleagues that you know if there's anything you need. All you have to do is ask." Kinsley's deep barrelling voice is controlled so that this comes out with a soft growl and nothing more.
Percy can feel that death defying heat light up in his cheeks as he tries not to feel completely mortified.
The rest of the meal goes on without any regret as Percy warms slightly to Kingsley.
Percy isn't sure what to think of it all when the questions change.
"How well do you reproduce?"
"I have five brothers and a sister. So pretty good." He doesn't mean to be so cross with the man but really he can't help it. These questions are infuriating. How the hell should he know how well wizards and witches reproduce?
The man clears his throat and begins talking I again /I , "Well, one has to wonder since if these I Purebloods /I you've spoken of are in this world. Wouldn't the crossbreeding cause some sort of effect?"
Percy sighs. He remembers reading and discussing this in one of his classes he had at Hogwarts. Or perhaps it was an argument he had with Hermione Granger at one point.
"The call themselves Purebloods, but there really are not any left in the world. They of course interbred with Muggle's and just lied about it. Calling oneself a Pureblood dating from the 1600's is not the same as keeping a breed of dogs and having them as the pure kind." Percy realizes that comparing his world to a dog's breeding patterns is rather odd and slightly insulting.
The man nods his understanding.
"So what of other animals? Or creatures? Is it genetically possible to reproduce with say, a banshee?"
Percy can't help the little chuckle that comes out. "No. It's like with a human and a monkey, they are close to us the theory of things but in the reproduction phase there is no offspring."
The man nods. Seemingly satisfied with the answer.
There's a cold draft in his kitchen.
He notices it as soon as he goes in there to make himself a sandwich. It's around 1:30 in the afternoon on a Sunday. So he's taking the day to relax for the first time in a long time.
He has a couple of beers on the counter that need to be tipped out and saved for the kids who like to collect down the hall.
He doesn't turn around to stare behind him and into the adjoined front room. It's not his habit and he is man of habit.
Instead he cracks open another beer and starts to make his sandwich.
He cuts it up into four squares each perfectly done. Then he goes and takes a can of juice out of the freezer and turns on the coffee maker.
He puts the plate of sandwiches on the kitchen table behind him. Turning his body not his head.
When the coffee is done he pulls out some sugar and a little thing of vodka out of the cupboard and puts them in. Takes three last gulps of his beer and turns around with sipping the now more than I good enough /I coffee.
Only to have it snorted up his nose as he finds his audience.
Or rather an army of seething redheads in his front room.
He's still coughing and out of breath when the vision of his mother comes, snatching his coffee and barking at him with the promise that it would be a big lecture.
He can't really see that well; tears are watered into the bottoms of his eyes. He's coughing really badly but he doesn't want anyone to really notice.
So he tries to go quiet keeping his eyes on his mother. All the while trying to figure out a plan to get away. Or at least to get some clothes on.
As he suddenly realizes that he only has on the…
"Dead PUPPIES!!!"
Perhaps he no longer likes his Sunday's
Merlin, these questions are soon becoming repetitive.
"Why are there no reports of magic in the Muggle world?"
"There are."
"Such as?"
"The bridge collapsing last year. The incidents with the so called I telekinesis /I ." Percy really doesn't feel like going into all this. As with the Prime Minister he fears that this guy is going to raise a lot of issues that can't be explained by misshapen magic.
Which when you think about it, makes little to no sense at all. Because is it not the Muggle thought that something that cannot be explained must be magical?
Or at least that's what Percy's gathered in his short time living with Muggle's.
"So what you are saying is that everything that cannot be explained by science is magic?"
Percy lets out a sigh.
I Yes, very repetitive. /I
"Does that not mean that magic is not indeed science?"
I Or perhaps repetitiveness is just another way of securing truth. /I
Percy isn't sure how he got locked in his apartment with his parents and siblings. Nor does he know how in the world he was given several near strangers to look at him in his underwear.
"—Drinking! Do you know what time of day it is! And not to mention the amount—" Percy wishes he was as good as his brothers when it came to ignoring his mother's screaming.
He ignores, but still manages to get what is being screamed in his ear.
However, he's feeling cold and doesn't like the thought of getting flies in his kitchen with that window open.
He could close it.
But it would reveal his lack of attention to the things around him.
Meaning that the glares would increase and the yelling would die down to a hiss.
"I never raised a child to drink! If you think you can keep a simple I job /I !!"
His legs are cold enough that he feels he can count the hairs on his legs.
I How painful would it be to have them ripped off? /I
Probably a lot. Charlie once pulled out his arm hair when he was mad at him. Both he and Bill tied Percy up to a tree while Mother was taking care of the twins and the tiny baby.
They left him there overnight.
Percy turns and walks into his room with his mother's lecturing voice trailing louder and louder behind him.
It's Sunday so he's going to wear some sweat pants and his favourite but ripping old shirt.
It has a little boy who looks pissed off with the words I "God put me on earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind, I will never die." /I
"How is it that Muggle's are not able to detect magic?"
Percy fixes his glasses.
"They are. But like anyone else, they chose to take it as they will." Percy's thinking that this is a good enough answer.
"How do you mean?"
Apparently not.
"I mean that a Muggle thinks of a glass of water the same way a wizard does. Liquid to sustain oneself. We both drink the water. Same taste, same water. The only difference is that I I know /I I can change it to wine or whichever."
"How does that mean Muggle's overlook it?" The man seems a little irritated.
"It means that if you know something can be done then you are aware of it. I don't know of a man who could turn himself inside out without dying, so I don't know it happens. A Muggle who knows of the Wizarding world is then aware of the oddities around them. Whilst one that doesn't is completely missing it."
"So we fool ourselves?"
Percy smiles.
Exactly.
There is nothing more uncomfortable than having your mother drag you around by the ear and give you the biggest lecture you have ever been part of. This includes the ones Percy's made himself to his younger siblings.
However, he's tired and hungry now. And quite in need of a cigarette break.
Though he is not as stupid as some to take the time and say that out loud.
Instead he sits in the front room that has an enlargement charm on it. The pictures on the wall have a lot of the Weasley's and others around it.
Though Percy knows that this is the Shacklebolt's home.
He thinks it's nice and quaint. With the beige walls and the burgundy furnishings.
He can hear the other people, who didn't want to listen to his mother with him, moving around the house around him.
Upstairs seems to be the loudest. No doubt someone wrestling with someone else.
Percy himself wishes he was being wrestled rather than anticipating the moment when his mother goes soft and suddenly wanting to touch and hug. In one of those awkward mother holding ceremonies.
He waits for this to happen. And isn't disappointed.
"Would you take a blood sample for me?" The question is poised as though the man is expecting a negative answer.
"Yes. Though I think you will find that my blood runs red as well." Percy's heard a couple of paranoid rumours about Muggle's and their experimentations.
Locking up wizards like animals and sticking things to take their blood like a vampire out of them. Feeding them horrible potions in their food.
Percy himself cannot believe that. It seems too farfetched for him.
The man nods.
Then proceeds to give Percy directions to the blood sample place.
When he's asked to speak to for a second in private by Kingsley, he's not as shocked as he might have been.
Though he is quite shocked at the question that he is asked.
"Will you go into hiding with them?"
Percy only lets out a bark of a laugh.
Truly, a ridiculous question.
The Prime Minister is a man who is not hard to please.
He's constantly pleased with Percy. Even though they both barely understand each other, coming from completely different backgrounds.
He's always engaging Percy into political matters.
"Tell me. Do you now consider yourself a liberal, conservative or a socialist?"
Percy pauses to think.
"A believer in the Communism you told me about. Yet a supporter of a free yet controlled democracy." Percy's learned how the system works.
"So a liberal."
Percy smiles at the man and nods.
He's lying. If anything he would be for a free and completely socialist Great Britain. Where no one would have to fight for what is his or her rights. Where capitalism wasn't a rage, as it seems to be.
However. Those are the politics his parents taught him. They are not what in reality a country can sustain itself on.
One must disabuse themselves of such ridiculous fantasies like Mr. Crouch once told him.
You must be hard to be strong. Because in being strong, the more justice can one serve.
"WHY!" Kingsley must have predicted his mother's hysteria at the news that her son would not join her.
Percy looks away. Aware that there wasn't anyone in the room who didn't hate him for his mother's despair right now.
But he takes his thoughts and tries to think of the words he might say if asked.
I I fight for my country in a different way than you. I take pride in knowing that even though I will not see the face of true battle, I will see that no one will suffer due to the negligence of a government… /I
Percy takes the moment of his mother's desperate pleads to think of what might really be the reason he won't hide.
I I cannot… because I believe in this… I believe that Truth must be upheld--- Truth—it is justice and rules of manner… it is the gold of mind… upholding the law and all it's justices is the only way of ensuring that gold is not taken. Stolen-- I
"I have a job to do, Mother." He says this with a sharp glance to his mother. As though berating her for trying to have him lose his job.
Percy is not prepared for when Kingsley shows up at his apartment. This time without that entourage of people right behind him.
"Percy, I was wondering if I could have a word." The growl coming out of that man makes something deep inside of Percy take a skip and warm his blood.
He nods and steps aside for Kingsley.
He watches as Kingsley conquers up some tea, as those big brown eyes stare at him.
"I've been told that you've kept the Prime Minister at bay with his demands for a call of action. Congratulations." Percy hasn't even been aware of this himself.
"I must say that that's quite a feat. I've seen how the Prime Minster was in the months I worked there. The Prime Minister was quite a persistent man." Kingsley's big white smile is rather infective. Percy finds himself smiling. Though his chest is aching in a way that seems familiar, but he hopes isn't what he thinks it is.
"Arthur wishes for you to come to dinner next week. Molly also wants you to come" Percy nods to this. All the while trying to focus on anything but his shaking hands as he turns the liquid of his coffee around.
"What of these pure- blood relations? Does that equal pure fidelity?"
Percy can't believe this man sometimes.
"No. We're the same as Muggle's in that sense. Though more conservative. Divorce is not something heard of really. Husbands take mistresses, wives take lovers."
"Is it ever the other way around?"
"What do you mean?"
"Sexually wise. Is there any homosexual relations?"
Percy can feel the collar of his shirt go very warm. Not something that he particularly likes the feeling of.
"… Not really… it's not something that one's etiquette talks of." Percy clears his throat. Trying hard not to think of his own I unheard /I thoughts.
"So it's frowned upon?"
Percy nods. "It didn't use to be. Not until some of Religion of Isam started coming into the Wizarding World."
"Muslim?"
"Did you expect it to be the Christians who burned us at the stakes? Or the Hebrews who burned with us?"
Percy tries not being so anxious. After all it isn't the first time he's to meet with Kingsley Shacklebolt.
But it is the first time in a rather expensive Muggle restaurant.
When Kingsley shows up, he serves to put Percy's eyes staring at him in shock.
Dashingly handsome. His dark skin somehow even more than just skin in that suit. His neck is perhaps the most mesmerizing for Percy at this particular time.
Percy had just put on a blue navy suit that didn't cause anyone to flinch because it clashed with his hair. With a rumpled top that seemed to be in fashion with suits.
"Percy?" Kingsley's voice causes something to happen to Percy that he really doesn't want to think of.
He clears his throat and gives Kingsley a proper greeting.
Kingsley's smiling at him. So he ventures to give a small tiny smile back.
He knows that Kingsley Shacklebolt knows.
But he's not one for confrontations.
"Could I ask just one last question?" The man and his electric blue eyes are rather familiar to Percy now.
"Go ahead."
"Would you choose to tell the world of your existence?"
Percy takes the time to stare long and hard at the cabinet on the right side of his interrogator.
"… I would rather the world to have already known… but if I had to—no."
"Why?"
I Because it's too late to save the Big Truth. So one might as well save what it can.. /I
"Would you jump to save a baby, or an old man?"
Percy isn't sure why he lets Kingsley into his house one night for a nightcap.
He knows the man isn't stupid. That he must know.
But he sits down still in his supper suit. Trying to act comfortable in his home. It's hard when he can feel those big brown eyes on him.
Five suppers. That's how many they've had.
In not one of them have they talked about work.
So when Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of the Auror Division kisses Percy Weasley, Secretary for both the Minister for Magic and Prime Minister of Great Britain.
It's not a complete surprise.
Three weeks later, when Percy has been given the thought that he has something to come home for in the evening, something ironic happens.
The man, who makes his heart flutter and his stomach quiver, overthrows Scrimgeour's government.
It is the same man in the paper talking of what the I Good Side /I against the I Dark Side /I must do to win the war, as it is the man who makes love with Percy nearly every night.
That man with the near black skin in a black and white photograph is the same man who kissed Percy's mouth as he removed Percy's pants with practiced hands the night before.
The man who devours Percy's member with a heat filled mouth. Running his huge calloused hands on either side of Percy's thighs.
I And to think, Johansson tried to tell them. /I
Percy feels the coldness of the air as he steps from the shower. With only a towel in his hand, he figures today will be a relaxing day.
Though he isn't prepared for when Kingsley opens the door letting more coldness in.
He says nothing as his entire body is grasped and his mouth is seized.
When he's nearly swept away to find himself without his towel sprawled on his bed naked, he's ready for the world to shake and fall into itself.
He watches as Kingsley undresses in front of him. Though it is just his Auror robes and underwear, Percy is fixated on it.
Kingsley towers over him with a groan from the mattress. Percy's hand is pure white on that newly scarred chest. Rubbing over the scars Percy lifts his legs so that Kingsley's settled right between them.
Percy's damp skin is making this rather uncomfortable and he's just snagged a couple leg hairs on Kingsley's dry leg.
But as he feels the warmth of their nether regions connect he forgets that and starts leaning his head back in earnest as Kingsley suckles it.
He can feel that this is going to be a rough one by the way that Kingsley is growling…
Kingsley has the oil in his hand and is manually preparing Percy for the deed they do in sin… the feeling of that hand in such position, the angle of the fingers and scissoring of them have Percy desperately trying not to cry out.
Three fingers and Percy's prepared enough. Kingsley's fingers are digging into one of Percy's bottom cheeks as he shifts up that leg and roughly enters that tight heat. Percy's lets out a soft moan feeling the stretchiness of his body and his own arousal. He silently mummers unintelligible words. Grasping Kingsley's arms hard.
He groans and pants as the thrusting starts. Kingsley snaps his hips hard so that the sound of flesh on flesh is obscenely loud. Percy's arousal is soon becoming unbearable and he needs to be rid of it.
Kingsley has to hold his hands back and attack Percy's neck. The way that Percy swears is unintelligent and would be embarrassing even for his younger brothers.
His legs wrap around Kingsley more tightly as his own body starts to seize up.
The shift of Kingsley's hips into one particular way has Percy screaming and the stars shooting behind his closed eyes.
Kingsley takes awhile yet but has full liberty to have Percy's spent body.
To which he does still kissing Percy's neck and face.
Percy still works as the Secretary between the Minister for Magic and Prime Minister.
Only one thing has changed for him and that's who the Minister for Magic is.
Perhaps two if you count that he's now involved with someone. Someone his parents don't already know that they approve of.
He's still in love with Truth and the Politics that are supposed to uphold it.
He's still living in a world of war.
The world that his family is no longer hiding from. Though Percy is still unclear of why that was in the first place.
But he's still there.
Believing in Truth.