Thank you heaps moon-fireflies!

Chapter Three.

Percy Weasley had been in the employ of the Muggle British Secret Service since a year after the Battle at Hogwarts. That had been over a decade ago, but not three or so evenings went by when he did not have night terrors of that time. Not just of the one battle of course. It had been three years of nightmare fodder. He had watched all the rules of what should have dictated life destroyed, the Ministry of Magic – an establishment he had clung to, to the detriment of everybody he loved – corrupted. He had seen good people put on trial and wrongfully sent to Azkaban. He had seen friends taken in chains by dementors – Penelope Clearwater screaming, always Penny screaming "Percy! Percy, don't let them take me!" – he had stood helplessly and watched his family targeted. Had been too frightened to make a stand when his youngest brother had been listed Undesirable Number Three. Had prayed that Ginny would be safe at school. He had himself been taken by Death Eaters and tortured, while they tried to extract information from Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister. Those memories haunted him. The brilliant, stalwart and defiant wizard who had managed to escape his bindings long enough to aid and order Percy to flee.

"Run boy!"

"I can't – I can't, Sir – not without you –"

"It is a command, Percy Weasley. You must find the Order of the Phoenix, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. You must tell them the Ministry has fallen. You must tell them that they are coming."

He had fought in the battle. Had watched murder. Had murdered in turn. Had surveyed the lawns of the school, his childhood, torn apart by dark magic, turned to rubble, to ruins…And then of course there was Freddie…Freddie…Freddie…

"You actually are joking Perce! I don't think I've seen you joke since you were-"

And then the explosion.

He had turned coward after it all. He had watched his mother mourn for her child, had had to help physically restrain George, alongside Bill and Charlie, after the suicide attempts.

He had watched Hermione, at such a ridiculously young age, marry the hero who could never deserve her…

But then, neither had he.

Nevertheless. It had still burned to see her walk down the aisle.

He had been brooding one night, when Bill had dropped into a chair opposite, and had stared at him thoughtfully.

A bout of childhood self-consciousness hit Percy, and before he could stop himself he reverted back to his mask of haughtiness, "Yes, William?"

Bill had said nothing for a moment, but folded his arms, and then said, "How long have you loved her, Percy?"

Percy had felt his insides plummet, but he managed to just blink and say, "Pardon?"

"Fleur picked it up. I wouldn't have caught on. But she mentioned it, and so I've been watching you, and it's true. Merlin. You're not half obvious when you can see the signs, so, little brother of mine – how long have you loved Hermione Granger for?"

Percy was too shocked to think of denials. He just sat there. Finally he had answered, a very quiet, "Does it matter?"

Bill scratched his jaw, and nodded with a shrug, "You're probably right. I don't think it rightly does."

"You hate me for it."

Bill laughed, not maliciously, just a sharp exhale of air. "I don't hate you, mate. But you are filled with it. And it's going to do you damage."

Percy must have looked confused, because Bill leaned forward, and explained, "I've been watching you. Since the battle. You're looking for a fight, Perce –"

"What are you talking about –"

Bill held his hand up for silence, and Percy cut off.

"You're looking for a fight. You're hurting. You feel sick with guilt for your absence. For what you said to Dad in that row those years ago. For upsetting Mum. For not coming to Fleur's and my wedding. For...Staying away when Dad was at Mungo's. It's eating you up inside. You question everything. You look at George and think of Freddie. You look at Mum and wish it had been you who had died. We've forgiven you, we love you, but you just can't accept it. And so you're waiting for an opportunity to do something, where you think we will hate you, because that's what you think you deserve. I didn't know what it was exactly, but when Fleur mentioned Hermione, I started…Basically, my theory is you'll end up clashing with Ron…" he paused, "And Perce, I'm not going to let you do that."

Percy breathed in. Then exhaled. He still said nothing.

Bill's voice became gentle – a stark contrast to the scars that marred his flesh. The deep tears in his face, that he called Greyback's Gift, "You've got fight in you. So much anger. But you're bottling it all up. And you need to release it. I know you've had to deal with harassment lately."

That was true. He rarely ventured out from home lately. So many people angered and hurt by what had taken place but reveling in the freedom of the revolution being won, had started to taunt and chase those they called the Ministry Dogs. Those who had worked in the Ministry when it had been corrupted. He felt he had deserved the jeers, the slurs, the hateful letters, and so he had said nothing. He had been pulled in an alleyway on a number of occasions and kicked to the ground and beaten. Fighting in the last battle meant little, everybody had known his position beforehand, and what little good he had done with Aberforth Dumbledore towards the end there was not widely known. He had endured the punishment of the public, until it had started to become more vicious when certain high-profile people escaped sentences in Azkaban. The Malfoys for example…Percy had been cornered and pissed on when the headline of the Daily Prophet had said Lucius had been given home detention, instead of time in prison. It had been Percy's fault – he should not have gone out that day. He should have known there would be trouble.

"You know, do you?" Percy said softly.

"I have an old school friend. He was in Slytherin, but we both had prefect duties together sometimes. He was muggle born. He hated – he seemed to hate being at Hogwarts. He was a year older, but in my year because he arrived at school later. Some…Scandal involving the death of a family member. His family had refused to send him to Hogwarts, they were that type of muggle family, muggle purists. And then, you know, his magic must have snapped, and…Anyway, he hated everything about school, but strove to become prefect…I don't know, out of principle or something. Whether or not he wanted it, he had to have it. You know what Slytherins are like. But he was alright. We played chess together. Of course, he beat me every single time, but, it never mattered. He was really smart, a genius, was good to talk to. Anyway, the moment he graduated he left the wizard world, and returned back home. There was trouble with his little brother - he was always worried about him, though he never said much. I've kept in contact with him, and…Now he's the head of MI5. Basically the muggle version of the AIB. I've written to him…I've asked for him to take you on as an agent. Like an auror, but without the wands. And with muggle weapons."

Percy just stared at Bill.

"You'll get to end the bad guys, Perce. Protect muggles. Fight for order and justice…Utilize that anger you've got. Redeem yourself…" Bill then smiled a little, "Make something of yourself. Something you could never do here now, not with your reputation. This is…A chance for you."

It had taken a lot more convincing of course. But it had been the best decision of his life.

He had worked under Mycroft Holmes, until he had moved on to other work and another took over Her Majesty's Secret Service. He had moved to muggle London, had learned how to use guns, to disassemble them. He had been sent on missions on foreign soil. Had protected people on British soil. He had been captured, had escaped, had taken terrorists in, had nearly been blown up, shot at, and then there had been that time when he had been poisoned…

It had been the best decade of his life. He was finally a true Gryffindor.

But then Audrey had been taken…

His beautiful Audrey. A fellow agent, but not on the field. She had worked on the muggle computers, could hack into any system, break any code. They had been married in a simple ceremony at the registry office. Bill had been his best man, and Mycroft Holmes had signed as the witness. Percy had carried her over the thresh-hold of his flat, and their first dance had been in the small garden, to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's song, Our House. Her cheek on his shoulder, she sang softly to the tune, "I'll light the fire...You place the flowers in the vase, that you bought today.."

She had been taken. And it had been discovered that it had been by a man called Sebastian Moran…

The only thing that had kept Percy sane was that there was no evidence she had been killed. She had information in her head, she was too important to kill. Too important…Wasn't she?

"Percival…"

He had been too overwhelmed to care much what Mr. Holmes had wanted in that phone call to begin with. He had barely registered his phone ringing as he searched Audrey's computer to try and find any sort of hint about her whereabouts. Of course MI5 had already gone through the hard drive, but Percy had always been obsessed with looking things over through a fine comb, repeatedly. He had finally answered when it would not stop ringing. Percy felt ashamed at that now, Mycroft had always been good to him, had helped him resurrect his life. But Audrey had been taken weeks before, and he had barely had any sleep. He had sent little Molly to Bill and Fleur, while he planned and schemed…

"Percival. I need... I need your help. My brother…Sherlock…He…" there had been a pregnant pause on the phone, then Mycroft continued, "This has to be strictly unofficial. You'll need to go in the dark on this…You go only through me. I need you to help discover and chase down a certain network. And that network includes an assassin named Moran. I understand that Audrey...Would you do that for me? It may take years of your life, but, with the Spider now dead, he is the most dangerous man in London." He swallowed, "Percival, as you are aware, I am not the type of man to disclose things about myself, but...This is...Of vital importance. I have always seen myself in you...Therefore, you are the only one I can trust to take care of Sherlock. Please."

Percy did not even pause, "I'll be right over, Mr. Holmes."