Warnings: Sexual situations, slash
Author's Notes: Adapted from the gift written for midnight_birth for the Malfoy-Weasley Exchange on live journal. This story owes a lot to her original suggestions.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the wizarding world are the sole property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing except my own ideas, and make no profit. No copyright infringement is intended.
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LEGAL, A Malfoy-Weasley Story
Chapter 2: DEFENCE
Percy lay on the dark green carpet of the office with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. This pushed his glasses into his eyebrows. The frames pressed into his skin and it hurt a bit. Just enough.
It was Monday evening and Charlie had come to collect him for a drink after work. Charlie could have asked his brother if he was all right. But it was obvious that he wasn't. He was just glad that Percy was comfortable enough with him to let his dignity slip. He didn't do that with many people.
Still, it was a bit embarrassing. Charlie wandered over to the window.
"What the ...?"
"What?" Percy started to get up.
Speechless, Charlie just pointed. Percy joined him and they stared out at the wall which, Percy was sure, had been blank that morning. Daubed across it now were red and gold letters two feet high saying: 'Gryffindors can't fuck!'
Percy pushed up the window and directed a cleansing spell at the graffiti. Nothing happened.
"Who the Helga would do that?" Charlie fumed.
"Well, his desk's just here and he spends most of the day staring out of the window ..."
"And he's a dirty little Slytherin."
"No he isn't!" Percy snapped. "He graduated last month." He tried some Obliteration Charms. "And you graduated --"
"Don't say it!"
"Decades ago. You're not in Gryffindor any more."
Charlie tried a few useless spells of his own, growling, "Just get rid of it!"
"I can't," Percy admitted. "He's invested it with some kind of signature. I'm going to have to get him to own up and remove it himself." He slumped back down onto the floor.
Charlie made sure Percy's eyes were covered again. Then he raised his wand arm slightly.
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"My grandson is ...?"
"On an errand," Percy lied.
Lucius nodded. He ran his elegant fingers over the shiny mahogany of the back of Scorpius' chair. It was nearly noon the next day.
"Is he doing well?" he purred.
"Um ... I, er ... he ... fine," Percy lied, albeit incoherently.
Lucius smiled his slow, feline smile. Percy wondered why he found he was watching those lips so closely. With a swish of his long, white hair Lucius turned away. He ran his hands over some of the paperwork strewn messily over the surface of the little desk in the corner. Percy was so busy watching those hands that he missed the movement of the man's head.
"What an impressive standard of debate," Malfoy sneered.
Lucius was looking out of the window. The sardonic lift of his eyebrow made Percy grow warm with embarrassment. Strangely, it was a feeling he could have comfortably climbed into. He found that he had crossed the floor, that he was standing next to Lucius, looking out of the window with him, inhaling his clean, citric smell.
It was worse than Percy had realised. Underneath the red and gold letters, blunt green capitals had been added announcing: 'SLYTHERINS ARE WANKERS'. He had a fairly good idea of who might be responsible for that. He wished his big brother would grow up.
"That certainly demonstrates the intellectual rigour of a Hogwarts education," commented the Malfoy patriarch, disdain dripping from every aristocratic pore.
Percy suppressed the shiver which ran through him. He coughed as dismissively as he could and commented, "I hope that whoever is responsible for that removes it quickly."
Lucius gave him a strange look, quirking his mouth upwards and asked, "But is it true?"
He held Percy's gaze and Percy was aware of doing some undignified mouth-flapping movements before breaking eye contact and moving away, remarking crisply that as only school children were members of Hogwarts Houses, he certainly hoped that the first was not being tested but feared the second would be true of every House.
He felt as well as heard the low rumbling chuckle behind him. It was followed by the crisp crackle of thick, silk robes shifting. Some compulsion lead him to look over. He saw Lucius perched elegantly on the edge of his grandson's desk, his long legs crossed in front of him, his arms gracefully supporting his upper body, bracing it against the desk's top. His silver curtain of hair swept over his shoulders, his grey eyes pinned Percy. Percy was scared; he leant forward.
The door opened. Both men snapped their heads round to face it.
"Shit!" exclaimed the dishevelled youth in the doorway. "I mean, what an honour grandfather!" Scorpius patted at his unruly hair, then swept his hands ineffectively down his robes, brushing at crumbs and creases.
"Where were you last night?" Lucius' voice was icy.
"At home," Scorpius answered. "Early night. 'Cos I'm taking my apprenticeship seriously."
"I wish you were," Lucius hissed. "Failure is not an option, boy. I have called in personal favours to get you this position. It's my reputation you are besmirching." The pent-up fury trembled in Lucius' every pore.
The cold, restrained power dried Percy's mouth. The anger wasn't even directed at him, but he felt very scared. How would it feel to face the full force of such a man?
Scorpius wasn't coping well. He squirmed and sweated, his eyes darting about the room. Lucius took a step towards him and he leaned back, his face a mask of panic. His grandfather gave him a look of disgust.
"I don't want to know where you've been. You stink. If you are incapable of moderating yourself, then at least limit your debauchery to the weekends."
"Yes, sir." Scorpius looked at his scuffed boot caps.
Before sweeping out of the office, Lucius turned to Percy and said in a softer tone, "Good Afternoon."
Percy was just beginning to feel sorry for him, when the bedraggled youth in the doorway glared over at him and sneered, "What are you looking at?"
"A bit of a mess!" Percy retorted. "Now you're here, you can --"
"I've got a headache!" Scorpius stomped over to his corner, on the way transfiguring his seat into a squishy armchair. He curled up in it and hid his head under a cushion.
Percy considered contacting the Manor and telling tales on his hopeless apprentice. He couldn't. He should have been able to control a subordinate. He was ashamed of his inadequacy. For some reason which he was not yet ready to admit to himself, he needed Lucius to respect him.
Percy crossed the room with determination and reached down to snatch away the cushion under which Scorpius was hiding. Then he noticed the shaking in the young man's bony shoulders and a muffled, wet, choking sound. He changed his mind. Instead, he looked out of the window. The wall opposite was once again clean and undecorated.
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There were files and papers scattered all over the floor, some fluttering and some skidding about the room. Percy was bending down, searching through, with his back to Charlie, who stood in the office doorway. The lad standing on the desk saw Charlie, though. He had his wand raised and was levitating a thick manilla file over Percy's head. He was tall and slim with a silver-blond fringe which fell over his startlingly blue eyes. When he caught sight of Charlie his grin collapsed, hiding his sharp white teeth.
The flying file wobbled and crashed to the floor, the noise making Percy look round. He retrieved the file with a confused, "There it is." Then he noticed Charlie. He blushed.
The young man lowered his arm, his sleeve slipping back down to cover his toned muscles. The fluttering noise stopped. He bit his lip and gave Charlie a wary look.
"Hello," Percy declared, too loudly. "Rather untidy today, I'm afraid."
"I thought I'd take you out for lunch," Charlie said. Then he looked upwards, "You must be Malfoy," he added darkly.
Percy composed himself, blustered a bit, got into role. "Ah, yes. Forgive me. This is Scorpius Malfoy, my apprentice. Scorpius, I'd like you to meet my brother Charlie."
The young man's pale face seemed to lose even more colour. He looked across the floor at all the parchment and lowered himself off the desk. "Um, I'd better tidy this up then ..."
"No," Percy snapped. "It's all out of order. I'll do it. You don't understand it sufficiently." To Charlie he said, "Sorry, I can't leave now. I'd better get some spellotape." He marched out of the office.
"What was all that about?" Charlie asked Scorpius. When there was no reply he growled, "Stop winding him up. You're an evil little shit."
"It's just a joke."
"Percy takes his work seriously. And so he should. If he fucks up people end up in Azkaban."
Scorpius scuffed his feet nervously, tearing a sheet of notes on the floor. He hastily stopped, gingerly picked his way through to his own desk and sat down. "I s'pose I know that," he admitted. "It's just so boring."
"Then give it up."
"Can't."
Charlie became aware that those seriously blue eyes were trained on his face. Didn't the Malfoys have grey eyes? The Blacks' deep grey eyes? The boy must have his mother's eyes. The rest of him looked uncannily like his father and grandfather: slimy, death-eating bastards.
Hesitantly, the young man asked, "You're Charlie Weasley?"
"Yes." Charlie decided to look out of the window. Those eyes were all too intense.
"As in the Charlie Weasley Cup?"
Ah. A Hogwarts Quidditch player then?
"Yes."
"Cool. I was never up for it, obviously. Don't think the other Slytherins would have been too impressed by me winning a 'fair play' award. I'm a seeker, the same as you." Scorpius added, very quietly, "You were a bit bloody good, weren't you? That's what everyone says."
Instead of answering, Charlie asked, "Why can't you give up the apprenticeship?"
"Grandfather wants a lawyer in the family."
"You don't strike me as someone who usually does what he's told."
