All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies.
Pairings:
eventually Percy/Marcus – It's getting there, really!
Contents: Angst, Slash, POV, it's kinda General
Spoilers: Yup. Books 2 and up.
Summary: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That,
I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.
Status: Incomplete – Only a few more… I think
A/N: I dislike this chapter
a lot. A very lot. Sorry it took me so long to get this out. The next part will
probably take just as long to get out.
*~* Indicates time change
~*~ Indicates scene change
Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue
Superstars and Cannonballs"So you will be back then?" Charlie asks from his bed in the infirmary. He had returned home just in time for the battle and was caught, unprepared, in the middle of it. He escaped with minimal damage. He was very pleased when I told him I was cowering in a dank hole throughout the entire duration.
Although there were few deaths, I was relieved to find none of them were of family or friends of the family. (There are quite a few of those.) And leading the forces were Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Well, not leading, the adults would not permit such endangerment, but they saved our world. Again.
"Yes, I'll return." I still need to speak with Ginny. After I piece the Ministry back together.
"Good. I need a brother to relate to." He smiles cheekily. With much effort: the lines around his eyes are too crisp. "No pun intended."
"Must you constantly joke?" I roll my eyes, while keeping a hand on his arm. I guess I still, after many years of outcast, want to be attached –
Like Marcus said.
"Yeah," he breathes.
"Thank you," I whisper back, squeezing his hand before letting go. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone."
He's asleep. Probably was before I even started.
Madam Pomfrey ushers me out.
~*~
Marcus was to accompany me to the Ministry, under Professor Dumbledore's orders. Which is quite annoying after being stuck in a hole with him for too long.
However, it's Sunday and the building is not open, except for an occasional intern. I have wasted – spent – I have spent many a Sunday afternoon in the abandoned building.
So. That left two choices: home or Roger.
At home I would have to answer a barrage of questions about the Jewel and Marcus. With Roger I would be asking the questions about Ministry going-ons.
To Roger it is. And my family afterwards.
Oddly enough, I had expected Roger to open the door to his flat.
Certainly not Oliver.
And most definitely not Oliver clad in only a towel.
"Percy!" he squawks appallingly, almost dropping the towel.
I nod. Yup, that does happen to be my name. Oh, by the way, what are you doing at Roger's flat?
Marcus snorts in barely concealed amusement.
"Flint?!" he squawks again.
"Who is it, love?" Floats from the bowels of the residence, using Roger's voice.
"Just me, Roger," I call around Oliver, who is unsubtly blocking the doorway with his bulk. "And another," I add wryly.
Things are still sore between us, I see.
"You've returned. Thank God!" he comes running through the flat and seems to be stuck behind Oliver's girth. Not that Oliver is fat, just broad and well muscled. "Well, come in."
Oliver grunts as he removes himself from the doorway, allowing us to pass.
"Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"No, thank you," I reply politely.
"Anything strong," Marcus responds.
I shoot him a glare. I don't want my body – mind-guard? – getting drunk.
Trust me, Percy, one drink will hardly get me drunk. Besides, I need a stiff drink after being stuck in a hole with you.
Prat.
"Sorry, Flint, all I've got it butter beer." Roger emerges from the kitchenette, brandishing two bottles. He's only wearing pajama bottoms, which isn't so bad… If they did not belong to Oliver.
Which means they are more than just roommates.
And yes, those are Oliver's bottoms: he had them at school.
"So, Weasley. Thank God you've returned." Roger pops open the tops of the butter beer, handing one to Marcus and nursing the other one himself. "Malfoy has been picking up followers. An unsettling amount at that. Your father is the only one openly standing up to him. By the way things are going, your father will end up like Fudge."
"Excuse me?" I sputter. Father can't die; he's immortal. Right?
"I'm fairly certain Malfoy hired a crew to assassinate Fudge."
I gawk. "How did you come to this conclusion?"
"No one really notices me there: I'm just the Bloke in Charge of the Country," he shrugs. "Actually, people pay less attention to me now than they did before."
I look awkwardly at him. "Isn't that a good thing? You won't be a target of Malfoy's."
"Have you always been like this?" Roger peers at me curiously.
My "like what" is drowned out by two simultaneous "yes"s.
I sulk.
"How am I to rule if no one notices me?" Oh. Yeah. I'd forgotten about that part.
Marcus.
"Wasn't me, git," he yawns.
I raise an eyebrow at him.
"True, but they pay just as much attention to me. My father should be the one to do this. I'm afraid I only sound good on paper. Ha! But not enough to get into the department of my choice. No. I had to – "
"Percy!" Oliver snaps.
"Yes, yes."
"Why don't you get dressed, Ol, while Weasley and I discuss this further. Flint, you're welcome to join us," Roger offers.
"Actually, I need to speak to Wood about something."
Odd.
Oliver glares at him, and Roger looks pensive before saying, "Weasley and I should probably discuss this in private anyway."
Oliver and Marcus go off together.
A shiver works its way down my spine. Not a shiver from fear or disgust. I can't quite –
Jealousy.
"Sweet Merlin," I groan, burying my head in my hands.
"Eh?"
"Never mind." I peel my face from my palms. "So. Ministry."
"Uh-huh," he nods skeptically.
~*~
Half an hour later we are no more ahead and our ideas were… lacking. So, we – Marcus and I – will see if my father has any ideas. I mean, I've never had to deal with mutiny. Ron and the twins don't count.
Only Marcus and Oliver aren't finished with … their pissing match.
" – this noble shite," Marcus snorts.
"Noble?"
"Love," he clarifies.
"He can't – "
"Well, he does. So what the hell are you going to do about it?"
"Is that a challenge?" Oliver growls. "And why the hell are you going through all this? It can't be for the greater good. Oh. I think I know – it's another plot in you Get-In-Percy's-Pants plot!"
Roger coughs politely.
Oliver looks ashamed.
Marcus smirks.
I don't know what to think. Other than not to think.
"I believe we have another social visit to pay." Marcus stands up. "Thanks for the butter beer, Davies."
Roger nods with a bright smile. "Anytime, Flint."
~*~
No one is at the Burrow. And no one has been for quite some time. Please say that they went into hiding. It's better than the alternative.
"Marcus?" I ask delicately. Maybe he can see if they're still alive.
"Hmm?" He's staring out into nothing again.
"Marcus!" I snap my fingers in his face.
"Don't you feel that?" He sounds far away.
"Feel what?"
"All the pain!" he breathes zealously. "It's exquisite."
"Pardon me?"
"I suppose you would feel the absence of pain, due to every creature fleeing the pain."
"You can't mean that," I tell him, keeping my distance.
"It's Manchester."
"Pardon me?" I repeat.
"Manchester is under fire."
"Are my parents safe?" I blurt.
He blinks. "Yeah… They're outside – "
"Don't say where they are!"
"Of course not," he rolls his eyes.
I want to go home. I know I sound fifteen years younger, but I want to go home.
"Again with the controlling of the emotions," Marcus chastises.
"I thought you enjoyed pain," I challenge.
"I do. However, I cannot stand self-pity."
Anger.
"Let's go back to Roger's flat," I suggest stiffly.
"Why not your flat?"
Why not? Because 1) I don't want you there and 2) I need to talk to Roger about some more Ministry things I remembered after we left.
"Because if my parents aren't safe here, we wouldn't be safe at my flat."
"So we'll be safe at the flat of the Man In Charge of the Country?" he asks pointedly. "Plus no one knows you've returned.
"You're as bad as – " Oliver. "Always – " Right.
Dear Merlin, I can't believe I just made that connection.
~*~
"Weasley? Flint?" Roger has an interesting expression of mixed confusion and amazement.
"You're not safe here, Roger," I tell him.
"What triggered this?" he asks bemusedly.
"His parents are in hiding," Marcus responds.
"So therefore I should go into hiding as well?" he raises his eyebrows in question.
"You're in charge. Someone has had to have noticed," I point out.
"Yes, true that," he says thoughtfully.
"Look, go to Oliver's flat, but please go somewhere," I beg. "You're of no use to anyone dead."
"Probably…" The rest is under his breath, but whatever it is has Marcus shaking with mirth.
The two men look at each other, a conversation passing silently between them.
Well then. I'll just stand here like a fool and wait for their conversation to come to an end.
I go to hunt down Oliver.
He isn't anywhere.
I wander back to Marcus and Roger.
I thought of Marcus before Roger. I can't be –
"Good God!" Roger shrieks.
I race to where I left them in the front hall.
There I find Marcus and Roger huddled around a something – a Pensive.
"He was just at practice," Roger murmurs, "just at practice."
Curious, I creep forward and gaze into it.
It's Oliver. Being led off a pitch. By Death Eaters.
That can't be good.
I close my eyes against the sight, blocking it physically.
They have the key to Roger's… influence. And mine, but more so Roger's.
Marcus is probably right; they don't even know I've returned.
Surprise is a sharp weapon.
Merlin, please have something for our side.
"They want me in his place," Roger says in a deadpan.
Marcus catches my eye, flicking them across to Roger and then inclining his head.
I stare blankly at him.
He rolls his eyes with an impatient huff, and then takes initiative. "Back to Hogwarts. All three of us. None of us are even remotely safe anywhere else."
He takes Roger by the arm, leading him out.
I follow, fingering my earring.
~*~
"Percy!" Charlie rushes me as soon as I set foot on Hogwarts ground.
I grunt as he solidly collides with my body, knocking me off balance.
Marcus catches me – us. He catches us.
"Percy, Davies and I are going to speak with Dumbledore and then Severus," Marcus says, looking down at me before letting me – us – go. "I'm sure you two have much to talk about. Oh. And be careful as to what, exactly, you say."
"I've got it, stop babying me," I say scathingly.
"Only when you start acting your own age," he retorts over his shoulder, escorting Roger into the castle.
"When's the wedding?" Charlie slurs, rocking back on his heels.
"What?" I squeak, hoping some semblance of insult was conveyed in that word.
"You look like he shoved a lemon down your throat," Charlie peers at me intently. "What I meant was – and sorry for catching you with your pants down – is that you fancy him, Flint."
I blink at him.
Then start laughing uncontrollably. I don't think I've ever laughed in the presence of family before… I've sniggered, guffawed, even giggled, but I don't think I've down right laghed.
He's known Marcus a fraction of the time I have and it took him a sliver of the time it took me to deduce the same thing.
That can't possibly be fair.
I stop laughing abruptly.
"How have you been?" I divert quickly.
"Ginny patched me up good." He eyes me in suspicion. "How far have you gotten?"
"Nowhere, but not from his lack of trying," I inform him prudely. "Now, how is Ginny?"
"Let me get this… You want him. He wants you. He knows you want him. Why the hell is nothing happening?"
"Charlie, look, as much as I don't enjoy talking about my lack of a love life, I need to know about Ginny's mental health," I grit.
"Why do you want – I'm sorry, need – to know about Ginny's mental health?" he inquires, puzzled.
"I received information from a reliable source," I inform him.
"Reliable source, eh?" He arches an eyebrow at me.
"Please tell me, Charlie," I implore.
He sighs.
"Come with me."
~*~
Violet.
I stop.
Charlie glances behind to look at me.
"What's wrong?"
"Dragon," I answer tersely.
He eyes me then resumes walking.
"Charlie," I whine.
"She's guarding Bill," he says quietly.
Oh.
He stops in front of a wall. Most likely there is a room on the other side.
"Draco."
The wall parts and we pass through.
And right under the snout of a Hebridean Black of considerable size.
Dragonman and Iriseyes, she acknowledges. Hims fretfully sleeping.
"Hims?" I repeat.
"Bill, George, and Fred," he replies somberly.
We enter the main room. There is – it's not really a bed, it's more of a nest – in a corner. Bill is sandwiched between Fred and George.
I blush.
The dragon butts me playfully in the chest.
Charlie raises an eyebrow.
He sits on the floor near the nest.
I sit next to him, idly scratching behind the dragon's ear holes as she contently rests her head in my lap.
"Don't choose now to become testy," I tell her dryly. "The last thing I'd like right now is a fire in my lap."
She eyes me pitifully with her violet eyes.
Charlie laughs heartily. "She's in luuuve!" he sings. "Sorry, sweety, but he's already been claimed."
She snorts, careful not to spew sparks.
I sigh in relief. I really, really don't like fire.
Bill moans in pain.
"He's a Squib," Charlie explains softly.
Marcus was right.
"I just discovered that," I whisper.
"So you know about George as well?"
"I… I'm not sure," I flush. "Not from a reliable source."
He smiles slightly. "But you like him anyway."
"This has nothing to do with Mar – Please continue."
"George tried a risky magical transfusion, now he and George are suffering. However, Bill is doing much better, and once his magic returns, the twins should recover. Hypothetically. Hopefully."
I nod.
"Ron is… well, he's making the most of his situation, adding a temper tantrum every now and then for variety. He strategizes, manipulates people. (He enjoys that much too much for it to be healthy.) He's formed this odd truce with a Slytherin - he won't say whom, but I've got ways to find out, not that it's any of my business – and he receives inside dirt on You-Know-Who. He's been hit really hard by the war and is handling it unnaturally maturely."
I nod.
"Ginny, now… She helps with the dead. I don't know much else."
I nod.
I'll find her later.
Everything is later.
I'll find her next.
"And you?" I prompt.
"That's what Skysong here is for," he pats her muzzle and she snaps playfully at his hand. "She's an experiment, if you will. I'm training her to guard Bill and the twins. I'm going to train others like her to fight along with us in up-coming battles."
I nod.
"Well say something!"
I nod.
"Percy," he growls.
Skysong shifts in my lap.
"I can't say anything constructive; my brain is overloading."
I would still like to –
"How did you know what I knew and what I didn't? I mean after that thing with Bill." I point to the nest.
"Your unreliable source," Charlie says without opening his mouth. In Marcus' voice.
Skysong snarls and bares her teeth at Marcus, her mind flashing purple in annoyance, shifting to red in tolerance.
"Percy, your sister wishes to see you."
Help me, I groan. She shoves her muzzle against my chest in apology.
Dragonman says not to worrying about the Snaky Snake.
Snaky Snake?
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Marcus regards me wryly before leading me from the dungeons.
~*~*~*~
T…B…C…
Thank you to my lovely reviewers!
GayRon: More is coming. Slowing, but it's coming. Promise.
Kimagure: I love you! And sorry about Oliver. He'll be all right.
Li'lkittie: Yup. Olly was in the chapter. I hope you don't hate me too much now.
Demeter: Breaking away from stereotypes is fun and unexpected.
Yoki: Yes, it's still going… even though it should have stopped by the next chapter, it continued to go.
Ganymede: Oh! Marcus likes Percy!
Obijan: Well, someone needs to make Marcus yummy and it wasn't Chris Columbus.
Xandi: More updates will follow… not so shortly.