The Things We Do For Love
Her breasts were flush against the desk, his hands firm against her shoulders, his lips upon the nape of her neck. He moaned as he entered her, not waiting for her to grow accustomed to the intrusion, but instead setting a brutal pace from the start. The stench of bourbon of his breath, the empty bottle discarded on the floor, she reached around to dig her nails into arm.
She loved it. Nobody could love her like he did, and nobody would let him do the things she allowed.
Fingers carded through her hair, pulling back her head so he could get to her throat, and he marked her with his teeth. Biting down upon her love-bite strewn skin so hard she was certain that the bruise would last weeks, he slapped her arse with his free hand, almost certainly leaving an imprint of his palm.
.
She stumbled through the city, her arm hanging limp at her side and her clothes in tatters. Merlin, who knew Uncle Percy had it in him to fight like that. She hadn't expected it, to say the least – especially considering what a reserved and dignified man he was. Had she gone after Uncle Harry – which may well have to do if he keeps digging – then her bruises would have been earned.
The man could duel with two wands at once, after all.
Percy, though? Bloody hell, she'd underestimated him, and she was paying for it now. Thank Merlin it was late, because she really didn't think she'd be able to explain herself to a Muggle with her body in such a state and no wand. She needed an elixir to help restore her mana – to say nothing of the skele-grow she'd need for her arm, and she hoped she had some in her medicine cupboard at home.
There was no way she could go to St. Mungo's like this. There'd be too many questions, especially once they found Percy's body.
She spat. What a bloody tosser that man was, though, she supposed it was her fault. She could have killed him easily had she taken him off guard but no, she just had to go and get cocky.
.
"You always knew that I was with Lily," said Scorpius, his voice cool as he redid his tie. She leaned against the desk, furious, and glared. A part of her understood why he was being so frigid towards her – their quickie after his meeting had been interrupted by Verity, who had forgotten her Codex or something and come back for it.
Through it all, Scorpius only seemed to care about precious Lily not finding out and sparing her from finding out he liked to fuck her cousin up the arse, and up the cunt, and in the mouth, on the desk, floor, shower, bed, balcony, hot-tub, pool table, and Merlin knew where else. Why didn't he care about her?
She was the one who'd be ruined if this came out. She could already see the hate filled glares sent her way when they realised that she'd been screwing Lily's fiancé.
"If you're with her, why're you screwing me?"
"Because I like to have me cake and eat it to, sweetheart," replied Scorpius. "Now fix your hair. We need to be presentable at the party tonight."
.
Her fist clenched at the pain, and she realised that she was very close to her apartment. Well, just a few blocks at any rate, and had she not been in so much pain she'd have risked an Apparition. There was no way she'd risk getting splinched though – after all she'd done to stay out of Azkaban, there was simply no way she'd let herself die of blood loss on her living room floor.
She looked up, realising she was passing a building which, to Muggles, looked abandoned and decrepit. Her eyes, though, could see through the wards, and she picked up speed upon noticing she'd inadvertently taken the route that passed the Daily Prophet headquarters. The last thing she needed was for one of their scoundrel paparazzi to get a picture of her like this.
Bloody, wretched Percy Weasley. Why couldn't he have just rolled over and died like Lorcan? Why'd he have to fight like a fucking banshee?
She coughed into her hand, her entire body shuddering, and her palm was bloody when she brought it away.
.
"Don't you love me, Scorpius? I'm more to you than just a common whore, aren't I?" she asked, grabbing him by the tie and yanking him forward so that he was standing between her legs. She nipped at his lips, tugging at the lower between her teeth and drawing blood, her hands snaking around to cup his firm arse through his suit pants.
He shoved her, and had she not been leaning against the desk she'd have fallen. His expression stony, he moved his hands back to his throat to redo his tie, and he said,
"Love, Rose? You're the most depraved woman I have ever met, and don't get me wrong, we've had great sex. But I don't love you. Honestly, I think you're rather desperate, but don't worry, I quite like the things you do with that tight little body of yours."
She'd thought she was angry, but it was then that she knew true anger. It was white hot and blurred her vision, covering her cheeks in trails of salty tears, and before she knew it her hand had closed around the sharp letter-opener Scorpius kept on his desk.
Whirling, she rammed it into the side of his neck with as much force as she could.
"Tell me you love me, Scorpius, tell me," she said, her eyes narrowed as she ripped out the letter opener and brought it down again, this time just above his sternum. "What's wrong, knife in your throat?"
Frothy red blood bubbled from his parted lips, and his eyes were wide like Galleons as he stared at her, seemingly not understanding that he was dying. Bastard. Again and again, the letter opener came down, but it was only after the sixth stab that she wandlessly forced the blood back into his wounds, not letting a single drop spill.
It didn't stop her turning his organs into Swiss cheese. It just helped her keep the room tidy.
"Say that you fucking love me, Scorpius," she shrieked, even though his body had long since stopped twitching. "Say it!" Her spittle sprayed across his face, her hair a wild mess, and she stabbed him again.
"Just tell me," she said, her voice a little softer but still a screech. "Just tell me that you love me."
.
"Rose! Rose, Merlin, what happened to you?"
She turned, mentally cursing at the sound of his voice, and forced herself to adopt a terrified expression. Eyes wide and lower lip trembling, she looked up at her cousin, Louis, as he rushed out of the front doors of the Daily Prophet, his bag tucked under his arm.
Why the fuck had he been working late tonight of all nights?
"Louis," she cried out, staggering into his arms. "The killer. He came after me. He said he wanted to finish the job. I . . . I . . . I fought him off and ran, but he could be right behind me." She sounded so sincere, that she found that with a little pushing, even she'd believe her. Letting the tears fall for good measure – not that it was hard, considering the pain she was in – she clung to the tall blond, burying her face in his shoulder as he stroked her back.
"I've got you now, Rose. Let's get you back to my place – Josh can look you over and then we'll call Uncle Harry in to get your statement."
(One should beware of who they trust, for even the Devil once shone as the brightest of the angels.)
.o0o.
"Let me through," she bellowed, shoving past the Aurors with tears brimming in her eyes. She'd come as soon as she'd heard, and nothing would stand in her way. Not the Aurors, not the Minister himself would be able to hold her back, for her grief was that of a mother's, and in her eyes there was no pain more severe.
For a mother to have to bury her children, one by one . . . she banished the thought, knowing she needed to hold herself together. Percy would not want to see her shatter like broken glass, no, he would want her to be strong and mourn him with the same quiet dignity he'd always clad himself in.
"Molly," said Yuna Dursley, her Auror badge glinting in the strong lamplight, as she appeared out of nowhere and placing a restraining hand against her shoulder. "Please, calm yourself. The body's already been taken back to the Ministry for an autopsy."
"An autopsy?" asked Molly, her stomach turning at the copious amounts of blood splattered about the graves, the soot-stained, cracked tombstones, and charred greenery. "I would think it fairly obvious that he lost a duel."
"Molly, we need to test for magical signatures, evidence, anything that can help us find the killer. You being within the perimeter could have already corrupted something crucial. I need you to leave." Yuna pressed, and Molly could only stare at the young girl. For a second, she was angry, ready to blast the Auror out of her way, but then she stilled.
She was only doing her job, just trying to hold together an investigation as best she could. Molly needed to calm herself before she gave herself a heart attack – she could already feel her blood pressure rising, as it had been since she'd gotten the news – but dammit, she needed to see the body. She needed to know, for certain, what she already knew to be true. She needed her eyes to tell her that Percy was gone, because until then the truth of all her senses would be against her.
"I understand," she said, keeping her voice soft. "Would it be alright for me to, at the very least, visit Fred's grave whilst I am here. I would like to speak to him . . . tell him to watch out for his brother."
"I really can't–"
"Let her through," came a haggard voice from the crowd, and Molly turned in time to watch her son-in-law push his way through. Hair now far more salt than pepper, Harry Potter loped across the ground, his eyes red and bloodshot – if she didn't know any better, she would have sworn he was hungover – and flashed his badge.
"I thought you'd resigned," said Yuna, not moving her hand from Molly's shoulder.
"I still am," he replied, his jaw set. "But I'll be putting the bitch who did this in the ground before I go. I walked away because I was weak, but I owe this to Hermione, to George, to Percy, to them all."
Molly nodded, grateful, choosing instead to glare at the girl who was still holding her back. Eyes narrowed, she waited, and when no movement was made, she shoved past.
"Uncle Harry, really, there could be evidence." Molly heard the girl exclaim, and she almost stopped before Harry replied,
"Powerful magic was used here, Yuna. Whatever signatures we could have gathered are far too frayed to be decisive, and a quick look at the grass is enough to tell you that any hair or whatever else the bitch could have left behind will be too damaged to use."
Molly continued, as that was all she had needed to hear. Feeling the scorched grass crackle beneath her pumps, she made her way to the bloody, battered grave of her son, and let out a dry gasp as she took it in. The marble had cracked down the centre, and the stone was brown with dried blood. The grass was flattened, as though someone had lain there, and the petals of various dried flowers were still dripping red into the earth.
She kneeled, reaching out to the tombstone, and whispered,
"Don't be too hard on him, Fred," she said with a watery smile. "If I hear you've been pranking him when I get there, I'll take you over my knee." Then, the smile broke and her forehead was leaning against the cracked stone, and the tears were falling hot and fast. Fists clenched, she sobbed, wishing Arthur was here with her and not currently in France with Victoire and baby Remy. He'd be here soon, though – as soon as he got the news.
She'd just have to wait a little longer.
"Percy, if you're there, know that I have loved you through it all, my son," she continued, "Why you? Why any of you and not me? Oh Merlin, how am I still here when three of my children are in heaven?"
The wind seemed to pick up as she collected herself, tears still running down her cheeks, but she put herself back into a kneeling position. No, she would not break – she could not break. Her boys needed so much more from her than this.
The dried flower petals shifted in the wind and she squinted, realising that between the splattered blood, almost lost to sight, was a word. A single, bloody word. The wind stilled, and from the corner of her eyes she could see blue silhouettes, disappearing when she turned to look at them.
She shifted aside the few dried flowers that remained, her eyes fixed upon the bloody smear that seemed to spell out a name. Letting out a cry as it was revealed, she could hear the Aurors hastening to her side, and she could do nothing else but point at the name upon the tombstone, written in her late son's blood.
Rose.
.o0o.
"I haven't seen one of those since Mom took Hugo and I to the dentist when I was eight," she said, feigning a smile as Joshua set out a row a potion bottles and syringes on the bedside table. He held up one, and she could smell it from here, sharp and bitter. Skele-Grow, but from the smell alone she could tell it was much stronger.
"I find they get the job done faster," he replied, stretching out her arm and deftly sticking in the long needle. It would have stung, too, but her arm had already been numbed by a cool, green gel he'd smeared over the ripped flesh and old burns. "Now, this is going to hurt, but the bones should be fixed up in the next thirty minutes or so."
She lay back, letting her eyes close until she was able to watch him through her lashes. She could feel the potion working on her arm, even as the next injection delivered an elixir straight into her veins. Already, her body seemed to be replenishing her magic, and she needed to keep an eye on this man. There was no telling when the other shoe would drop and pieces would be put together.
Rose knew that she'd have to kill them both before she left, and for some reason, this troubled her. Unlike the others, these two hadn't sought her out. They'd helped her, but that didn't change the fact that she refused to go down in flames. Even as Josh applied the various healing potions to her, tipping a tonic of some sort down her throat, she knew that there was only one way that this all would end.
It was a question she'd asked herself when she'd first realised Verity could implicate her. Called to the forefront of her mind, she let it overwhelm her, and relived that faithful day when she crossed the boundary between a rage-filled murder and premeditated killing.
.
She'd hid the body in a piñata like a complete moron. Oh Merlin, she'd been so fucking pissed and she'd just wanted to see Lily's face crumple. She'd wanted her perfect little bitch of a cousin to break down and let go of that stupid happy-go-lucky persona, and fuck it, she'd wanted Scorpius' murder to be remembered.
He deserved it, after all, and she didn't want him to just be found in a ditch somewhere. No, she wanted the lights, the camera, the action, the whole fucking production, but now as she looked back, she regretted it.
Not the murder – Merlin knew the bastard had it coming. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and she certainly thought she could have handled the whole thing better. Probably just turned him into a paperweight or something and made it look like he'd bailed on the wedding.
Then, it struck her that Verity had seen her bent over the desk with his cock ramming into her cunt, and if an affair wasn't motive for a murder, she didn't know what was. It filled her with dread just thinking about it. How long would it be before her mother put the pieces together? Uncle Harry? Hell, Louis hadn't even started his journalism career and he'd figure it out with a bit of digging.
She didn't want to go to Azkaban. Not for giving that bastard – who she loved – what he deserved. A memory charm? No, that wouldn't do. A skilled Healer could reverse all but the most powerful of them. Blackmail? No, she had nothing on Verity, and besides, doing so with only make her look more guilty.
Then, her eyes fell upon the bloody letter opener lying on her dining table, and her mind was made up. Dead men tell no tales, and even though she felt her gut twist into a knot at the thought , she knew that it was either her or Verity.
And she, Rose Granger-Weasley, was a survivor.
.
"How's the arm?" he asked, leaning over to dab at the cut behind her ear with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab. In response, she flexed it, almost grinning at the leaps and bounds made in magical medicine since she'd been in Hogwarts. Merlin, it had taken her a night to repair her ribs after that bloody Quidditch accident.
James wasn't even a beater, so she still held it against him for using his broom to send that bludger into the stands. It was his illness, they'd said. He didn't know what he was doing, they'd said. Bullshit – he'd just wanted to hurt her because she'd charmed his hair pink.
(That, at least, is how she saw it.)
"Has Louis already called the Aurors?" she asked, smiling up at her healer.
"He said he'd hold out until you were ready. You're a bit of an idiot to be out and about with Auror protection in the first place, honestly. Someone tried to kill you on the street outside not a month ago, or have you forgotten?"
She snorted. "My life, honey. I'm not going to live in fear. I think I just proved that I can take care of myself."
"You proved something alright," said Josh, flicking his wand to knit the split skin above her eye back together before setting it down. Reaching for the radio sitting on the opposite bedside table, he switched it on, filling the room with the raw, unrestrained vocals of Teddy Lupin. Rose almost gagged at the reminder that the radio station was holding a memorial thing for him.
Oh, fuck him. He was a moron and he was dead, blown to bits along with that fucking office. Pettigrew would be rather jealous – they hadn't even been able to recover a finger after she was done with Teddy.
Then, the lyrics turned into a blast of static, quickly replaced by the voice of Cho Chang. Rose narrowed her eyes, cautious, as the first words left the anchor's voice, and slid her hand up to the bedside table, casually slipping Joshua's wand onto the bed. Curling her fingers around the handle, she concealed it beneath the sheets, even as news of Percy's murder was being broached.
.
She screamed –the sound blood-curdling to her own ears – and with a flick of her wand caused it to repeat. Eyes narrowed, she Apparated to the other side of the building and hefted the block of concrete from the ground. It was just where she'd left it.
It was heavy, but that was a good thing. It meant that it would get the job done.
Slowly, she slunk forward, trusting in her Silencing charm to mask any sound her shoes could have made. On the tips of her toes, she neared her victim, and raised the concrete into the air above her.
"Wrong place, wrong time, Missus Thomas," she said, her voice cool as she brought down her improvised weapon upon the older woman's head. Parvati crumpled, and Rose cocked her head to the side, studying the blood for a minute.
For love, she thought, as she headed back to the main street. Banishing her glove as she exited the alley, she drew the knife out of her belt and, without hesitating, stabbed herself in the gut.
As she collapsed, she banished the blade as she collapsed back onto the ground, and waited. After all, she'd seen Louis enter the building just above her, and knowing what a light sleeper her cousin was, he'd probably already be on his way to investigate.
The blood soaking into her top, she grimaced, and waited, laying there like the wolf in sheep's clothing.
(As she lay dying, she saw him and reached out to him, a smile on her face as she whispered, "You do love me, don't you, Scorpius?")
.
"Another murder," said Josh. "It's honestly just so fucked up."
"It is that indeed," she said, her voice soft, watching his face. He was looking at the radio as though it were a television, and she'd have laughed at the thought if her situation was not so dire. If he put two and two together – Merlin, she still didn't feel ready for a fight. It would have to be swift and sudden.
"This just in, we have just received confirmation about the murderer's identity," said Cho Chang, her voice crackling through the radio. "The general public is urged to be on high alert regarding one Rose Granger-Weasley. There is a strong possibility that she was injured during the murder of Per–"
Josh's eyes widened and he dove for his wand, but she simply shook her head and, directing his wand at his chest, she whispered,
"Avada Kedavra."
He crumpled beneath her curse, eyes still frozen in realization, and she climbed out of bed. Shaky and somewhat dizzy, she grabbed the syringes that Joshua had laid out for later use, and without hesitation, jabbed them one by one into her arm.
.
"My, this is a lot to take in, Mister Malfoy," she said, offering him a glass of bourbon. "Did my mother really give you permission to kill the murderer?"
He nodded, bringing the glass to his lips, and the effects are instantaneous. She watched, catching her wolfish reflection in the window, and leaned in from her perch on the desk. His head lolled back, his eyes bleary as she swung a leg over him to enclose the chair he was sitting on, and she smiled.
"Rose," he slurred, as she leaned in to run her hand against the side of his cheek.
"You look just like Scorpius," she cooed, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. He tried to push her off, but she just smiled. "He loved me, you know? I loved him too, far too much to let him be miserable with that whore, Lily." She giggled, watching as he steadily grew more sluggish, his movements weaker and weaker, and she slipped off the desk into his lap.
"You Malfoys are like a good bourbon," she said, loosening his tie. His head lolled back in the chair, his eyes rolling back in their sockets before his eyelids slid shut, and she let out a throaty laugh as she prodded his body. "You look so much like him, Mister Malfoy – just like my Scorpius."
By the time her fingers had begun fumbling with the button of his jeans, he was already lost to the world of dreams.
.
Her magic surged, her pain faded, and she felt her lips press into a thin line. Stumbling out of bed, she flexed her arm, grateful that the break was healed, and narrowed her eyes at the door. This was Percy's fault – she knew it in her gut. If he'd only just let her kill him instead of fighting – but he'd tried to kill her, and now they'd all be trying to kill her. Azkaban clearly wasn't an option anymore . . . if they found her, she knew they'd be duelling to kill.
She heard someone running down the stairs and she clenched her fists and she blasted the door of its hinges and took off after her cousin. She'd fucking kill them all for doing this to her. She'd rip them limb from limb. But first, she'd start with Louis.
He was, after all, the nearest one who wanted her dead.
.o0o.
"I'm glad to hear he's doing better," said Louis into his Codex, his hand resting on the doorknob, having just changed the subject from Rose to James. On the other end of the line, he could hear the radio crackling in the background, but his attention was fixed solely on Albus. His cousin had fallen silent, and then he heard a series of sharp cries of alarm.
"Oi!" he said into the device. "You all alright in there?"
"Get out of the house. Rose is–" Albus began, but Louis did not hear the rest. Instead, his eyes had widened at the green light that had flashed out of keyhole and the cracks beneath the door. His cousin's words echoed in his ears, and he took a step back as he heard a loud thud, like something heavy falling onto the ground. The words . . . he'd heard other words, the words of the killing curse, and that was when his instincts took over.
He turned around and took off as fast as he could.
Joshua, oh fuck, Joshua, he thought as he sprinted down the stairs. An explosion seemed to rock the house as he reached the foot of the stairs, and he looked behind just in time to see the bedroom door, at least what was left of it, hurtling through the air. Then, Rose was in his field of vision, running after him and taking the stairs two at a time.
Without hesitation, Louis tossed a stunning curse over his shoulder, only for it to miss and set a painting on fire. He ducked as he made his way to the fireplace, trying to ignore the sound of Albus screaming at him on the phone, and felt a rush of hot air above his head. Leaping behind a couch, he smelt smoke, obviously from the painting.
He couldn't duel her and win, that much was a given. Charms and writing were his forte, and whilst he'd managed to obtain acceptable passes in his subjects, it wouldn't be enough to hold back Rose. Hell, he'd never been much of a duellist in the first place, relying on his guile to get him out of rough situations – Louis doubted he even had the ability to cast an Unforgivable, of which Rose had already proved herself capable of casting the worst of the lot.
No, he'd have to run.
Curses were slamming against his hasty shield charm, whilst others tore over his head. The wall nearest to him that housed the fireplace was very nearly in ruins, and if he wanted to move he needed to do so now.
"Albus," he screamed, cutting off his cousin's yells. "Seal the fucking Floo as soon as I come through."
The couch shuddered, bursting into flame and he tossed out another stunner.
The time it took her to deflect it was enough for him to get roll into the nearby fireplace, scooping up a handful of Floo Powder from the carpet as he went. The clay pot it had been in lay shattered, and he could feel the shards stabbing into him as he went over them, but it was barely a tingle.
"Malfoy Manor," he yelled, and as the flames roared around him, his eyes widened at the streak of orange light that was just a few inches away.
.o0o.
She should have never let her guard down, not even to visit some friends who she hadn't seen since her Hogwarts days. It had been a fairly pleasant afternoon, though considering some of the experiences she'd had since becoming a Guardian, the bar hadn't exactly been set very high. So, despite Lily sobbing into a sodden handkerchief, Albus pacing the room, and Cassiopeia trying her level best to calm the other girl down, Francesca still believed it was a fairly quaint night.
Of course, one only had to think something along those lines for all hell to break loose.
Her gun now trained upon the fireplace in the antechamber, she narrowed her eyes and waited. Cassiopeia and Albus flanked her, both their wands drawn, ready to seal the Floo, and even Lily, god bless her soul, had her wand pointed at the fireplace despite her shaking hands.
The Patronus had already been sent and the Aurors and Hugo were on their way, so she was certain that this would all be over tonight. Despite that feeling, she could not ignore the lingering feeling of dread that had settled into her gut.
The fireplace sparked, jade green, and she tensed, her finger loose against the trigger. Then, it erupted into flames and Louis spilled out, and she heard Lily let out a scream. She couldn't blame the girl – Francesca herself had to resist the urge to vomit. His left leg ended midway down his thigh in a ripped and mangled mass of flesh, blood, and shattered bone. Already, she could tell that he had lost consciousness, and from the amount of blood spurting out of the wreckage that had been his limb – she could tell a blasting curse when she saw one – he didn't have much longer.
"Colloportus," bellowed Albus, shutting down the fireplace.
"Sigillum Sanguinis," shrieked Cassiopeia, and Francesca felt the Malfoy wards slide into place around the Floo, effectively shutting it against any and all intrusion. Keeping her gun trained ahead regardless, she spared Louis a glance from the corner of her eye. Lily was on her knees beside him, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding, and Cassiopeia was almost at his side when the fireplace seemed to buckle.
"He's losing too much blood," she said, following protocol and not moving from her position. "Cauterise the wound. Can people still Apparate out of here? He needs to get to St. Mungo's immediately."
"Incendio," muttered Cass, surprisingly level headed, and Lily simply turned away, retching. The air heavy with the smell of vomit and burning flesh, Albus replied,
"Cass used the family wards to seal the manor. Cass, Astoria, and I are the only three people who can come and go as we please with these wards in place." Whilst he spoke, Francesca noticed the fireplace buckle again, as if caught between two powerful spells. Fairly certain that Rose was now trying to force her way through, she made her decision. She had faith in the wards to hold until the Aurors could apprehend Rose, but as a Guardian, she had been trained to always expect the worst possible outcome.
"Cass, get him to a hospital. Now." The blonde looked ready to protest, but a quick look from Albus was all it took for her to grab a hold of Louis, and Apparate away with a crack.
"Al," she continued. "If those wards give way, this place is going to be a battlefield. Your brother still upstairs?"
"You can't expect him to fight." Albus scowled. "Merlin, he can barely walk to the bathroom on his own."
"He needs to go," she said, ignoring what he'd said. "Get Lily out of here – either the Burrow or Grimmauld – and then come back for him. Don't argue with me."
Nodding, the man grabbed his sister and disappeared, leaving her alone to hold the quivering fireplace. It was odd, she thought, because she'd never heard of spells being able to travel through the Floo after the fireplace had been sealed. Running the calculations in her mind, she realised with a start that it was impossible.
The realisation came too late, for before she could react to the silent Apparition behind her or breath against her neck, the knife had been firmly wedged into her spine. Her legs gone limp, she fell, the gun slipping from her fingers in shock.
"You focused on the fireplace," said Rose, her tongue snaking out to caress the blonde's ear. "But Scorpius gave me the key to these wards the day we started fucking."
Reaching over, Rose picked up the gun and pointed it between Francesca's eyes.
(The bullet took her between the eyes.)
