A/N- Okay, I know this chapter took a bit to get done, but I was working on another fanfiction of mine called More about Luna and Rolf, and I needed to get that one down as soon as I had the idea. Updates will still be slow, because I am going to alternate between writing a chapter for this story and a chapter for a Fantastic Beasts story in the style of Tangled. This one is heavy, so I need something light to pick myself up every now and then. Again, updates will be slow, but they will come eventually.
Percival felt the threads grow tighter, spreading from his spine to his heart, trying to bind its frantic beat.
Grindelwald himself was here, and he did not know if that was a good thing or not. Percival had not seen him for a long time, but he knew the man had likely just decided he was no longer useful enough to bother himself. And depending on what the man wanted with Leta, this could be good, or very, very bad.
He pressed his spine against the wall, his crippled leg almost buckling, his breath shaky, waiting for his nightmare to speak, to do something.
But it was Leta who broke the silence.
"Grindelwald...?" she said, and she sounded puzzled. Like she didn't recognize him.
"Yes."
"Who are you?"
None of this made any sense to Percival, who heard footsteps come closer, as if someone was drawing closer to Leta. Despite his fear, he wished he could see what was going on.
"I am myself." Grindelwald answered, and now Percival realized there had been a change in his voice. He could not place it, but it was almost silken, deeper, louder, yet rang with the familiar tones Percival had come to know. He was still confused, however.
"What do you want me? That Protego Diabolica should have killed me. And I am not loyal to you." Leta said, the barest hint of a wobble to her voice.
"I can put on quite the show when I wish, Miss Lestrange. Your 'death'... Well, it had quite the opposite effect than the one I was hoping for. You will be pleased to know that it did not break the Scamander brothers, or your brother. It appears to have only strengthened their resolve." Grindelwald replied, and Percival heard Leta's sharp intake of breath.
"They're alive?" she whispered.
Percival wanted to shout that it was a trap, some corner of his mind screaming this, but his fear was overriding everything, those threads as strong as metals chains.
"For the time being." Grindelwald replied, and there was the sound of footsteps again. Percival could picture him coming closer and closer to Leta, like a cat who knew its prey could not escape.
"You want to use me against them." Leta said flatly.
"You are a perceptive witch, Miss Lestrange. And yes, I believe you could be a very useful piece on the board, should I choose to use you. But I will extend my offer one more time. You are unloved among wizards, cast out for your family alone and the manner you came into being. The world as it is now will never accept you. Even if you had married Theseus Scamander, you will always be a Lestrange. They would never have accepted you. So why stand with them? Why stand with the ones who would never love you?"
"I am a monster. But I am not the same kind of monster you are." Leta said, her voice gaining a strength to it, yet a pain.
"Some would see it that way. Others would say we are the same. Others still would say a monster is a monster, no matter what breed." Grindelwald acknowledged.
"So that is no?" It was Rosier who spoke this time.
"I will never join you. And I won't let you use me against Theseus and Newt either." Leta said, and Percival could picture her raising her chin.
But she was being so foolish. So damn foolish! He had tried defiance until the day he had bled out, and it only made things worse. The memories threatened on the edge of his mind, teasing and pricking with claws, the scent of blood in his nostrils.
"We'll see." Grindelwald said, sounding amused.
"If you are going to torture me, do it. There is no point putting it off." Leta said, but there was a tremble in her voice.
"I did not come here to torture you, Leta. I have no reason to harm you. In fact, I admire you. What you did at the rally was bold, and brave. Those are traits I admire. 'Fortune favors the brave' or 'the bold', as they say. I need that in my Acolytes. Perhaps today you will not join me. But I will give you some time to think on it. It would be foolish to pledge yourself to a cause just because those you love are so set in their ways."
"And locking me in a dungeon is supposed to put you in my favor?" Leta scoffed.
"It is for our protection. We cannot reveal our secrets to just anyone."
The conversation must have continued, but the memories had sunk their claws into Percival's mind and had ripped the world away with bloody slashes. The sting of spells was suddenly upon his flesh and blood was rolling down his skin, pain exploding through every nerve, his heart beating, his mouth open to scream, but no sound could come. He was on the floor, he was pinned to the wall, a wand was in front of him, a knife glinted in someone's hand, red-painted lips were caressing his injured cheek for a moment, a pale hand was lifting his chin. That voice, as altered as it was, was speaking, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.
"You cannot win this. You know it. Save yourself the pain, Percival. It does not have to be like this."
"What was that?" Rosier's voice suddenly cut through everything and Percival spun back into reality with the words. He grasped them like a tether pulling him from the darkness.
He was on the floor, his spine throbbing, his crippled leg bent awkwardly and making it hurt anew, his head against the pipes of the sink he had crashed into. His throat was raw, and he realized he must have screamed or cried out, his chest heaving, the fear binding itself tighter, sealing off his voice now.
Percival slammed a hand over his mouth to try to quite his breathing, though he knew it was pointless. They already knew he was here, and hiding had never worked in the past. Fear left a metallic, stale taste in his mouth and he waited, listening, bracing, fearing.
"Percival Graves, I imagine." Grindelwald said, and there was something about the way the other man said his name that sent dread rolling down Percival's aching spine like rivulets of icy water.
"Don't hurt him." Leta said suddenly, her voice having a fierce note.
"That really depends on him, liebling. But no, I did not come down here to hurt him. I am surprised you know anything about him, to be honest." Grindelwald said, though there was a note of interest to his voice.
Part of Percival wanted to hiss at Leta, because she had just revealed delicate information to the enemy. She shouldn't have said anything about having any idea of who he was, that she even knew he was there. Because if Grindelwald found out there might be any sort of connection between them, any sort of bond, he and his Acolytes could and would exploit it in the future. Leta had just made them more vulnerable than they already were here.
Leta said nothing, at least that Percival could hear, and he didn't hear anyone else say anything, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Then Grindelwald spoke again.
"Take a few days to truly think on it. If you do join me, yes, I will expect some help taking on both Scamander brothers in the future, but they are our enemies, after all. We will talk again soon, Miss Lestrange."
With that, there was the sound of footsteps again and this was followed by the cell door shutting and locking, part of Percival relaxing.
But he had relaxed too soon, as suddenly the door of his cell unlocked and he froze, the light brightening as the door opened, searing his sensitive eyes.
His eyes watered and he blinked several times, his vision struggling to adjust, and footsteps came closer and closer to him. The closer they came, the harder his heart pounded, and he looked up when he could see, knowing someone was standing right in front of him.
And he had no idea who this person was.
He froze, staring at the man, trying to sort out who he could be, why he had never seen this Acolyte before.
"Hello, Percival." he said, and Percival's heart jolted.
The voice was different, but the tone, the way the man said his name...
"Grindelwald?" Percival rasped, leaning away, wanting to scramble to his feet, but he was effectively cornered.
"Yes." Grindelwald said, kneeling down in front of him.
Percival's brain was having a hard time understanding the change. But now he understood Leta's words, at least, when she had asked Grindelwald who he was.
The man's hair was dark now, shot through with silver, and his skin was not quite so pale. He was clean-shaven and his face was completely different, features sharp, but the basic language of his body hadn't changed, at least not that Percival could see.
This was completely at odds with the last time Percival had seen him, blond, pale, and leather-clad, and he could not understand how the man of his nightmares, the person who had caused him so much pain, who had stolen his face and killed Percival Graves, was now so... Different.
Then a scrap of information floated into his glass mind, and he fumbled with it before he finally spoke.
"You're a Metamorphmagus." Percival said, and Grindelwald smiled.
"Still sharp, I see." he said, seeming satisfied.
Percival flinched as the man cupped his face in his hand and tipped his head, looking him over intently, eyes tracing every mark on his face.
Percival wanted to pull away, shove him away, do something, anything, but he couldn't. He was too afraid of what might happen if he did any of those things; the fight had drained out of him with his blood on the stone long ago. If he pulled away or did anything to Grindelwald, he knew he would be on the receiving end of a spell from Grindelwald or one of Acolytes, or the knife, or a fist. His mind and body both quaked a little in fear, remembering all the agony he had gone through because of these people.
"I know that you have met Leta. What do you think of her?" Grindelwald asked, still holding his face, tone conversational.
Percival said nothing, trying to work up a bit of defiance, despite the fear, because suddenly he had the urge not to protect himself, but Leta. There was no hope for him, there would never be hope for him again, but there was still hope for her. He found himself clinging to that, suddenly. Not his hope but hers.
Grindelwald's fingers tightened and Percival knew punishment was likely about to come, part of him caving to the fear.
"I... I don't know." he said honestly.
He liked Leta, if only for the simple reason she reminded him that he was a human, of how to be human, and treated him like one. He didn't know her yet. But she was young and innocent and didn't deserve to be here, most likely. And once upon a time, there had been a man named Percival Graves who had protected others from a man like Gellert Grindelwald.
"Hmm." Grindelwald said and released him. Then he straightened and waved away his Acolytes, doing the unthinkable.
He turned... And left. And that was it. He didn't hurt Percival, didn't leave his Acolytes to hurt him. He just turned, ushered them out, and closed the door to the cell, sealing it. Then the footsteps faded away and Percival let out a shaky, tearful breath, his heart not functioning correctly.
He dragged himself to the corner- the safe place- and pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to get his breathing steady. And it did steady when he realized he had just gotten a vital piece of information about Grindelwald. The man was a Metamorphmagus. And that meant... And that meant a great number of things.
Percival did not know the details of how Grindelwald had been discovered as him and had assumed the man had used Polyjuice Potion or human Transfiguration, but perhaps not. He could have flawlessly shifted his appearance into Percival's, and perhaps that was one reason his face had been left alone. So, Grindelwald had a reference. It also meant that any time an Acolyte had come and Grindelwald wasn't there, he actually could have been. It also meant that those in the outside world would be hard-pressed to find him and capture him again if he was careful about it.
"Percival?" Leta said. By the sounds of it, she was at the hole again. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you? Percival? Say something."
"They didn't do anything." Percival said, lowering his fist. His voice was choked, he realized, and he swallowed hard.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything about you, I just... I really don't want them to hurt you again." Leta said, and Percival knew he should move closer.
But he couldn't find it in himself to move over to the opposite corner just yet. This one, for reasons he could not explain, felt safer.
"Just don't do it again." Percival said and swallowed. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you care if they hurt me or not?"
"Because you don't deserve it. We might have only known each other a few days, but I know enough to have that opinion. No one deserves anything like it. And you've been nice to me. Not... Not a lot of people have been nice to me in my life." Leta said, and she sounded almost embarrassed about the fact this made her like him.
"You must not have met a lot of decent people, then." Percival said.
"Maybe not." Leta acknowledged.
"I'm sorry for scaring you about what they might do." Percival added, closing his eyes.
"I needed to know."
"Are you going to say yes?" Percival asked next.
"What? Say yes to Grindelwald? Agree to be his Acolyte?" Leta said, sounding both shocked and offended. "Why the bloody hell would I do that?"
The anger startled him; he hadn't meant to offend her.
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Because- What kind of question is that? Because I hate Grindelwald, that's why! What he's doing, what he wants, is madness. Yes, maybe I thought about it for a minute, but you don't know what it's like, Percival! He... The silver-tongued bastard made me think for a moment, all right? Hardly anyone has ever accepted me, and it was tempting, for a moment, to think there was a place I belonged aside from with Theseus and Newt, where people wouldn't hate me for being born!" Leta exclaimed, her voice rising with anger.
He flinched, but she wasn't done yet.
"But I know he was lying. That is the way he is! He lies and manipulates, but he also makes you think! I'm sure you know that. But I can't and I won't agree to join him. I won't be part of his plans! I may be a monster, but I am nothing like him! I won't let him use me against the people I love."
Percival was silent. He didn't like her shouting. He hadn't meant to anger her, and he felt like he was fumbling through talking to another human again. He apologized several times, but she didn't seem to hear him. The silence hung heavy between them, and he scraped at his mind for words, trying to figure out the proper thing to say.
"I just meant... It would get you out of here. That was all. You would have a better chance of escaping." he said quietly, feeling a little like a chastised child.
"They would watch me. I wouldn't have any freedom. I think Grindelwald has known that I won't join him since that moment I fired that spell at his back. It's part of some other plan. And if he really wants something from me, for me to do something, he can just enchant me and be done with it. You can make someone do anything under the Imperius Curse." Leta said, her tone softening.
That hint of pain was there again, and Percival wanted to know about it, but enough of the old Percival Graves remained to tell him now wasn't the time. The amount of trust they had now wasn't enough for her to tell him whatever that pain was, nor was it enough to give him the right to ask.
"Did he ask you to join him? To be his Acolyte?" Leta asked before he could come up with anything to say.
Percival had to stop and think. It had been so long ago, and his mind wasn't what it had been when he had come here. He had fought Grindelwald in Europe, stood in front of him after he had killed all the others... But had the man ever asked for his allegiance? He must have; it would have been easier for him to have a turncoat stationed in MACUSA than to go through all the trouble of becoming Percival Graves himself. And he had Imperiused Percival in the beginning, after all, made him bring him to America, pass on information, and go to work like everything was completely normal when it wasn't. But he just couldn't remember if Grindelwald had ever actually tried to win his allegiance or not.
"I think so. In the beginning." he replied, struggling to remember.
"Why did you say no? Or why would you have said no, if he had asked?" Leta demanded, and a glance at the hole in the wall let him see her face. He really should have made it higher up, he thought, but the stones had been looser there.
"Because I have spent my life working against men like him. I am not about to turn into one." he answered automatically, the words spoken by a ghost. But they were true, he realized. Or it had been. But... If Grindelwald came back right now and extended such an offer to him, would he take it? If it meant ending the torture and the agony and escaping this small cell to a more gilded cage, would he accept? He was scared to realize he wasn't sure of the answer. The answer he had given Leta was from the past. He had no answer for the present or the future, and he was afraid to even consider it.
He hoped she didn't ask him what his answer would be now, because he wasn't sure if he would be able to control whatever answer might come out of his mouth.
"You said no even though you knew what they would do to you. I think you can understand why I said no, even knowing the same things." Leta said, a bit of temper still in her voice.
Percival said nothing, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry I got angry with you, Percival. It just... It felt like a lot of things people said to me when I was growing up. Or expected me to do, just because I'm a Lestrange." Leta eventually said, sounding a little ashamed.
"It is all right." Percival said, having honestly expected to have made her angry long before now. He hadn't expected her to be so understanding that he had lost the ability to properly, politely, speak with another human being.
"Do you think Grindelwald wouldn't enchant me if I agreed with him? Do you think I would be able to do something? Like spy or escape?" Leta asked curiously, the tone in her voice making it clear she was trying to come up with some kind of plan.
"He and his Acolytes would have hardly used the Imperius Curse on me. I have no idea why. So I would say there is a decent chance that he might not." Percival answered, thinking about it.
But just because Grindelwald hadn't done something with him didn't mean he wouldn't do it to someone else; Grindelwald was a man who seemed to be able to seek out what methods might work best against someone. He was dangerous and smart, and that was a bad combination.
"But Queenie could see it in my mind, and I honestly can't tell if she was truly being loyal to Grindelwald, or he enchanted her-" Leta started and Percival bolted to his feet.
His leg screamed in protest, but he didn't care, moving over to the hole as fast as he could.
"Queenie? Queenie Goldstein?" he demanded, awkwardly lowering himself so he could see Leta.
She looked startled.
"Yes. Why?" she replied, blinking.
"I... I know Queenie. I took her and Tina in for a bit after their parents died, their father was an Auror... What is she doing with Grindelwald?!" Percival said perhaps a bit madly, images flashing through his head.
He had known Tina and Queenie a bit when their parents had been alive, as their father had loved to brag about them and had brought them to work once, invited Percival to dinner another time. He had been charmed enough by them to not want them to go into the wizarding foster care system or an orphanage for young wizards, and he could picture Queenie as a little girl, all golden curls and a brilliant smile, innocent and sweet despite what she saw in people's heads. Traits she had retained as an adult working at MACUSA, unfortunately, and Percival had been forced to step in a time or two when the innocence had caused a little trouble. For a mind reader, she was sometimes woefully innocent and foolish, a little too trusting. She was fierce, though...
How could she have joined Grindelwald? They had had a discussion on about the man and their mutual dislike for him shortly before he had been sent to the fight...
"She was at the rally-"
"What rally?" Percival said and they stared at each other for several long moments.
"Leta, tell me what happened. Tell me how you got here. Please." he added, voice shaking a little. With Grindelwald and the Acolytes arriving, he had completely forgotten that he had been asking her for the story before.
Leta looked away and he could tell it was hard; it was fresh and the reason she was here, after all. But he suddenly felt terribly unaware of what happened outside the dungeon, and no one had come to torture him and spill information in a very long time. Much of what he had just overheard between Leta and Grindelwald hadn't made much sense.
"Please." he whispered, wondering if he was going too far. If this wasn't how you talked to a person. If this was how he had once interrogated them.
Leta took a deep breath, and she told him. She started further back than she had likely meant to, because she seemed to realize he didn't have all the details of what had gone down in New York.
She summarized it. Confirmed that Credence was the Obscurial. That he was the one Grindelwald had been looking for, had been using Percival to find. That he had survived and made his way to Europe. That the various magical ministries of the world had been seeking the boy out, hoping to find him and kill him before Grindelwald found him.
How she had gone with the British Aurors to Paris. That everyone had thought Credence was her dead brother. The rally that had followed, the trap that had been laid. How she had fought to protect the men she loved, though Percival thought she was being a bit modest and dismissive there.
Because one did not stand up to Gellert Grindelwald and fire a spell at his back, or face down Protego Diabolica, without unmatched bravery.
She told him how Aurors from both Britain and France had gone over to Grindelwald and made it through the flames, how Credence had, how Queenie had. And... That was all she knew. She had been aware of nothing else until she had woken up here.
Percival was silent when she finished, trying to process this overwhelming wealth of information, wishing he had the boards and papers he had used as Auror to sort everything out better. His heart felt heavy, truth be told. So much violence, so much death. Grindelwald had the Obscurial. If Queenie had not been enchanted, then she had joined Grindelwald of her own free will, and likely wasn't the witch that Percival so cared for anymore.
"Do you think Queenie would have voluntarily joined Grindelwald?" Leta asked after a moment, though there was a hint of suppressed tears in her voice.
"I... I don't know." Percival admitted. He wanted to say no, he should have said no, but she wasn't a little girl anymore, and he had been gone a long time.
"Maybe... If she thought it was what was best for her loved ones..."
"But if she was enchanted, maybe she can break free. Or Grindelwald will release her. If that is the case, then she will know about us. Maybe she can help. Newt told me about her, she has a connection with her sister's mind-" Leta started, and her optimism rubbed salt into Percival's bleeding wounds.
He hadn't wanted to destroy her hope. But this was... She was making a bonfire out of a candle.
"Queenie doesn't have the skills to take on the likes of Grindelwald and his Acolytes. Even if they did release her from the spell, she couldn't help us. We're on our own, Leta. And there is no escape." he said, harsher than he meant to. But all his snuffed-out hope and the memories of days spent plotting, trying to escape, scheming more, trying again, and failing every time were pressing the front of his mind.
He wanted her to have hope. But not like this. Not suffering under the same delusion that someone would come that he had for months. No one knew they were alive. If someone came and found them, it would only because they had decided to storm Nurmengard. He thought, from she had told him, that Theseus Scamander might just try, but that was one man against an army. Theseus was more likely to die or end up in the next cell than manage to free Leta (and perhaps Percival, too).
"Don't say that." Leta said, her voice fierce and bright with anger. He was startled.
He looked up into her eyes and he could see that there was still fight in them, still hope, a kind of fierceness that made part of him quiver, because it was like seeing a friend you had thought was gone forever. Something he had once had, something he had once known.
"Don't give up hope. You were alone before." Leta said, reaching through the hole gingerly.
She gently touched his hand and he let her, shivering a little, because it was still so strange for someone to touch him... Just like a normal human.
"But you aren't alone now." she said, giving his hand a squeeze.
He had no idea what to say to that, and he swallowed, hard, wrapping his fingers around hers as well. He knew the scars on his hand had to catch on her soft skin, but she didn't seem to mind, and Leta looked at him seriously.
"We are in this together now, you and I. And I promise I won't leave you." she said, and these words shocked him.
They looked at each other and Percival had to close his eyes, because he was in danger of crying again, not realizing how much he needed those words, how much they meant to him, until this moment, and he made a promise himself.
"I won't leave you either."
The next day, he told her his story of how he had ended up here.
She had asked him, after they had made their promise to each other, but it had been much harder than he had thought to talk about it. He could see it in his mind, he dreamed of it, the memories were still vivid, but speaking of it... That was so much harder.
But Leta seemed to know how that was, and gently coaxed it out of him. And it was then that Percival realized he had never told anyone about it, not really. All the people he had imaginary conversations with always knew his situation, so he had never said anything about it even to them.
In a halting, hollow voice, he told her, in a way that sounded like he was trying to disassociate himself from it, or already had. Which he had. It belonged to him, but it also belonged to the Percival Graves who had died here.
He told her of how he had been sent to Europe to try to take on Grindelwald, stop him and his plans before it spread even further. How there had been a team of Aurors from a variety of countries, put together by the Confederation. How they had cornered Grindelwald at a remote manor in Germany one night, closing in, ready to capture or kill.
And how he had captured and killed them instead.
It was still vivid in Percival's mind.
The blast of white magic that had sent many of his fellow Aurors flying backward and burned them up into a haze of ashes without so much of as a flame. His own voice ringing through the night, telling the survivors to hold steady, to aim, to fire, to take Grindelwald. How that had all ultimately failed.
No one had realized Grindelwald was that strong. No one had realized they were not truly prepared for him. And Percival had been the only survivor.
Grindelwald had singled him out, likely because he was the leader, because he was the highest ranking Auror there. He could still feel the spell that had disabled him completely, sent him drifting in and out of consciousness. Still see Grindelwald kneel down before him, head tilted, white-blond hair glowing in the faint moonlight, a smile curving his lips upward. And then... And then the rest had come.
Being forced to smuggle him into America. Claim that they had managed to injure Grindelwald and he had fled. Charmed into continuing his work, all while feeding Grindelwald information. Then being dragged somewhere.
Tortured. Mimicked. His very self being stolen.
And then being brought here. He told Leta what he remembered, but some of it was gone, fractured, scattered, or blurred together, and he could not and would not really tell her of the time after that.
But she didn't ask, and when he finished telling her the story, he looked at her and saw tears were shimmering in her eyes. He was startled. Tears were beginning to spill down her face and he was alarmed, staring at her.
"Oh, Percival... I'm so sorry." Leta said, wiping at the tears.
Impulsively, he reached out a shaking hand and grasped hers where it rested on the edge of the hole, touch like this still so foreign, so...
"Don't cry for me." he said, words he had said before, but to different people. His mother, his sister, Seraphina, little Queenie. All for so many different reasons, but he vaguely remembered that Percival Graves did not care for people crying on his behalf.
Not because of what his father had hammered into his brain like a long fencing nail, but for the very simple reason of not liking the fact that he had made someone cry.
He might not have been sure of who he was anymore, but he knew that much. He had no idea what to do, however, and he released Leta, because the touch, though he had stopped panicking like the first time, was still too much. He could only take bits and pieces of it, and Leta hung onto him for a second, which almost set him off. But she let him go when she realized what she was doing, and for that he was grateful.
It took a minute, but Leta quickly swallowed her tears and she dried her eyes on her dress, taking deep breaths.
"Saying I'm sorry doesn't seem like enough." she said, shaking her head. "I didn't... How did you survive that? All alone for so long?"
"I didn't. I already told you that. Percival Graves died a long time ago." Percival reminded her, and she looked even sadder at these words.
After that, they didn't say a word. Not for what felt like hours. Percival knew Leta had questions, but she also seemed to know he would say nothing further and wouldn't answer them, so she didn't. It was what his body had determined was night when he heard her voice again, piercing through the fog of sleep slowly rolling into his mind.
"I think you did survive, Percival. I just think you don't know it yet."
He and Leta talked further in the coming days. Grindelwald did not visit, giving Leta the time he had promised her, so the two of them talked.
Percival was slowly remembering how to hold a conversation, and the more Leta talked to him, the more he liked her. Not that the bar was set very high here, but he did not see why people had shunned her. Did not look beyond her family. After he told her his story, he was plagued by nightmares of that very event, and he woke up to her singing, her voice piercing through the fear and confusion and panic.
It had been a different song this time, another one he didn't know, exactly, but he could recall songbirds singing it during the war. It soothed him, took him back to a different time, when he had been in Europe not as an Auror but a soldier, mixing with men he didn't know and would likely never see again. It took him back to moments of peace, though the world beyond that small pocket of it was hell, and it lulled him back to sleep.
He slept better, somehow, with the song, and with knowing Leta was there. Some nights he left the bed alone and curled on the stone floor near the hole, because he wanted to be close to another human being again. He could hear Leta breathing gently in sleep if he listened closely enough in the silence, and that in itself was soothing. He didn't tell her what her presence or songs did for him, however, not sure how to explain or admit it, worried he was being strange or even creepy in some ways.
During the day, they talked, slowly opening up.
Percival learned Leta's favorite color was pink (the gentle kind from a rose, she said), and that she had been a student with top grades at Hogwarts. He learned that she liked beasts, and this was strange to him, even after she explained that her friend had introduced her to them, that he had the obsession with them.
In return, she learned his favorite color was red (though he normally just wore black and white), or it at least had been, because red reminded him of blood... And blood did things to him now. He told her had also been a student with top grades at Ilvermorny, but did not confess the pressure his father had kept on him to make sure he was nothing less than best. That made him wonder what his father would think if he could see him now.
But these little things led to more conversations, and suddenly they were talking about their schools, their childhoods, times and places so far away from here. Talking got easier, and Percival began to remember how he had used to speak to people, how not to be blunt or rude or abrupt. His voice strengthened, all the rust getting knocked off it, but his throat still could not handle hours of talking. He screamed in his sleep often, even with Leta near, but she seemed to understand his limitations.
And one day, he even shared a song with her. She had been singing and he had no idea what the song was, and he had been washing himself at the sink, a song suddenly coming unbidden into his mind. He heard Leta stop when she heard his voice, as terrible as it was, and his head was suddenly filled with memories of undercover missions he had taken back in New York, dancing with Tina in a speakeasy (the Blind Pig? He was sure it was something like that) as they tracked down lawbreakers, hearing the voices roaring in the corners almost every night. He sang it, surprising himself by remembering all the words, and then he was the one who stopped, because a strange sound was echoing from somewhere.
He didn't recognize it at first and he froze, listening, trying to figure it out, almost afraid... And then he realized what it was.
It was laughter.
Leta was laughing.
That was so strange here, so out of place, and he could do nothing but stare at the hole in the wall, even though he was naked and dripping with icy water. Her laughter was clear and bright, the amusement in it so pure that he was stunned. It was nothing like the laughter he had heard since Grindelwald had brought him here.
"Merlin's beard, what was that?" Leta said, still laughing.
"A... A drinking song. 'Down on Canal Street'." Percival answered, stuttering a little as he did.
"That's the dirtiest thing I've ever heard. Oh, Merlin." Leta said, laughing some more.
He jus stood there and took in the sound some more, because it had been a long time since he had heard laughter that was just... Because. Not cruel or mocking, or his own deranged laughter bursting out of him in hysterical ways.
"I'm sorry. Like I said, it's the dirtiest thing I've ever heard." Leta said eventually, sobering.
"You don't have to apologize." Pericval said, a little baffled.
"I meant for interrupting you." Leta clarified, and it sounded like she was still smiling a little.
"You have a nice laugh." Percival said abruptly, and he winced. He was still relearning not to blurt out everything that came into his mind.
"Thank you." Leta said, sounding almost embarrassed.
Percival wanted to say something more, explain why her laughter had silenced him, but he wasn't sure how to say it without sounding odd, so he kept it to himself. He finished washing in silence and dried himself with the blanket, still shivering by the time he finished dressing. He drew a blanket off the bed and wrapped himself in it.
"Do you know any dirty songs?" he asked to break the silence that suddenly hung between them.
"No, not really. I know a few drinking songs, but if Theseus or Newt knew any dirty ones, they never shared." Leta answered, and Percival honestly hadn't expected a woman of her breeding to know such things. It would have been considered very improper, after all.
The silence came back and this was how most of their conversations started, actually. Neither of them knowing what to say or ask, and neither of them wanting to potentially drive the other off. Percival was so afraid of accidentally doing that with Leta. She was the first company he had had here, and he didn't want to lose her. Even with the hole in the wall, she could simply just ignore him.
"How many times have you tried to escape?" Leta asked after a bit.
This question did not surprise him. He had been expecting her to ask it sooner or later, especially after he had stated that there was no escape.
"I lost count." he admitted, curling further into the blanket. He was sitting on the bed and his leg was too stiff from the way he had slept and icy washing for him to have any desire to try to get over to the hole. He had 'curled' further into the blanket, but his damaged leg was stuck out stiffly across the mattress.
"What did you try?" Leta demanded. She had probably already been trying to figure out her own plans of escape.
"I tried to pry the stones from the walls. That is what the hole is from. I thought, if I could get into another cell, I might be able to get out. That the door wouldn't be locked because there was no prisoner... That was all I managed to get. The rest are in there too solidly." Percival said, closing his eyes. That had been far from his first escape attempt, and far from the last.
He had tried fighting back. He had tried bolting out the door when they came. He had tried to summon his magic. He had tried to strangle the one Acolyte. Before, in New York, he had fought against the spells that had been cast on him, and had tried to tell someone of Grindelwald. He had tried to steal knives and wands. He had tried to take on the Acolytes and Grindelwald himself. He had tried busting down the door. He had tried so many things, things he couldn't even remember anymore.
He told this all to Leta and a thought popped into his head as he told her, making him feel embarrassed and dirty. He shouldn't even suggest it. But many of Grindelwald's Acolytes were male, and so was Grindelwald himself. Leta was a woman, and a beautiful one at that. If she played her cards right, she might be able to get one of them to drop their guard. Manipulate them. Escape. Seduction was a powerful tool, he knew; many of the female Aurors he had worked with had used it at one point or another, against a suspect or while undercover. It had often been quite effective. But he wasn't sure about suggesting it to Leta, or the reaction she might have if he did. She had gotten so angry when he suggested she agree to join Grindelwald to try to escape.
So, for the time being, he kept quiet about it. As helpful as it could be, he knew it could be quite dangerous. Especially here, where Leta had no control. He would save if for later, if he thought it was necessary or Leta might be willing. She had just got here, after all. No need to use every weapon in her arsenal right away. He had made that mistake, and it had broken him.
"I'll say it again, Percival: You aren't alone anymore. I'm sure together, we can figure something out. It might take some time, but we can at least try." Leta said. voice firm, tinged with bravery filled Percival with a flicker of warmth.
Just like his little flame before her arrival.
He didn't want to crush her hope, but he didn't want her to be unrealistic either. There was a fine line between hope and fantasy. But perhaps she was acting in a similar manner as him. She was being realistic, but she also wanted him to still have hope.
Like that little flame, she was a light in the darkness, he realized.
One day he would figure out how to tell her that, even if she thought herself a monster.
The next day, it was Leta who had nightmares.
Percival could hear her, and she wasn't screaming like he did, but she was breathing hard and quick, and he recognized it from when Tina and Queenie were living with him, from when he would visit his sister's family, from a night or two when he and Seraphina had shared a bed.
But he no idea what to do. There was a barrier between them, and the method he had used all those other times, waking the person having a nightmare and taking them in his arms until they calmed down, couldn't be done here. He cursed the wall, wished he had made the hole somewhere else, wished that Leta's bed was closer to it. He dragged himself to the hole and braced his hands on the edge, hearing the familiar sounds of panicked breathing in the dim light beyond.
"Leta." he called out, putting his abused voice to the test. He wasn't sure if it would ever be the same again, but if he could still scream in terror and pain, he could sure as hell shout out a name now.
"Leta! Leta, wake up! Wake up! Leta!" he shouted, his voice breaking after repeating himself a few times.
"Mercy Lewis, wake up, damn you!" he growled when he had failed to wake her, feeling useless and helpless. If he could still use his magic beyond tiny sparks, he would have used Finestra to break a hole in the wall (which might be good way to escape, perhaps, if he and Leta were able to use and combine their magic somehow...).
To his surprise, his growl worked. He heard Leta gasp and the mattress shift, as if she had suddenly changed positions. Then she was panting and sucking in air, and he could picture her looking around her cell frantically, trying to figure out where she was, if whatever she had been having a nightmare about was anywhere near her and could still reach her. He knew the feeling well, and fell back into those nights with the children, with his lover, because even with the wall between them, he could still offer comfort, like she had for him.
"It's all right. You're all right now." he said in the most calming voice he could muster, saying the words he had said many times before.
For a moment the memory of little arms wrapped around his neck and the warmth of a small body gathered close to his chest visited him, bringing a sudden sharp pang of longing, for the nephews and niece he had so rarely seen, the daughters he had sort of had, and the children that were never meant to be.
"You're safe, Leta, you're safe." he soothed, admittedly almost calling her Seraphina for a moment. He had had more nightmares than she had, but there had been some nights when he soothed her as she had him. His mind was still lingering in the past.
"Leta?" he said when she was silent, even her panting going quiet.
"I'm all right." Leta said after a few moments, almost breathless.
"It was just a dream." Percival offered, because she certainly did not sound all right.
"No, it wasn't. It was real. It just happened before now." Leta whispered and Percival was intimately familiar with that feeling.
"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, which he had never asked Seraphina, but he had said to all five children.
"No." Leta said, her voice choked.
Curiosity wriggled in Percival, but he let it be. She had been quite respectful to him, and he could manage to do the same.
He couldn't think of anything else to do now. He had held his nephews, niece, Tina, and Queenie close and kissed their foreheads, rocked them or tucked them, but he very well couldn't do that with Leta, even if they had been sharing the same cell. He had held Seraphina too, drawn her against him, folded her against his body, kissed her and tucked her beneath his chin, sort of guarded her until she wanted to talk about it or fell into a peaceful sleep. Another thing he certainly couldn't have done with Leta.
He recalled what his mother had done for him, what she had surely done for his sister, and what he had witnessed Dedrain do for her children, and while it might not have been appropiate either, he tried it out. He sang to Leta, one of the sangs she had sung to him, because he didn't think Down on Canal Street was the way to go right now, and he couldn't think of another song off the top of his head. It had been a long time since songs had been any concern of his. So he sang one of Leta's songs, stumbling over the unfamiliar words and tune, and his voice certainly wasn't anything to be proud of. But he thought it helped, because he heard Leta shift again when he was almost through and this was followed by the sound of running water. He finished the song anyway and then remained in awkward silence, until Leta had suddenly joined him at the hole. She sat pressed against the wall, so he could only see her profile, and he was sure the light was steadily getting dimmer as the days progressed, but it was still enough to see her by.
"Thank you." she said softly, wiping at her face.
Had she been crying? He couldn't tell.
"You're welcome." Percival said, and extended his hand cautiously through the hole.
Physical contact was still a hit or miss with him and his hand shook a little, but he offered it anyway, because there had been many times in the months he had been here that he had wished for a kind hand, a physical touch that was something other than harm. He had offered such comfort in the past, to family and friends and the vicitms he had met as an Auror.
Leta's hand slipped into his, icy from the water, and he wrapped his own around it, almost engulfing her smaller hand. He squeezed it tight and Leta squeezed back, so it was clearly the right thing to do.
They stayed like that for a time, until through some unspoken agreement they broke apart, and it wasn't long after that their meal (breakfast? Percival still had no idea) arrived magically. After that, they had begun to fall into conversation again, and this time the topic was a bit heavier, because for some reason they found themselves talking about the expectations that being a Graves and a Lestrange brought with it. From the world, from their parents. Percival had never really talked about this much with anyone before, not even Dedrain or Seraphina. It was nice to have someone who understood, and Leta asking him questions about his past brought things he had thought were long gone to the surface, reminded him of who he was, made his mind work differently than it had been.
It made him feel like Percival Graves still lived.
But unfortunately, the conversation did not last long.
They had barely even started when suddenly they heard the door open somewhere in the distance and instinctive fear spiked down Percival's spine like a bolt of lightning. He recognized Grindelwald's footsteps, but it was joined by others, many others, and his heartbeat began to increase, he and Leta exchanging looks through the hole. Percival had no idea what was going on, but if there were that many people...
It either meant there were suddenly more prisoners or, more likely, that a torture was coming.
They both abandoned the hole and stood, preparing themselves, and Percival braced himself against the sink, though what he really wanted to do was cower in the corner, even if his safe place wasn't safe. Because nowhere was safe. He listened with familiar dread and fear, blood roaring in his ears, and most of the footsteps stopped, until only Grindelwald's remained. It was Leta's cell door that opened, not Percival's, and he realized that Grindelwald had likely come for his answer.
"Hello, Leta." Grindelwald greeted, his changed voice still so odd in Percival's ears.
"Hello, Grindelwald." Leta echoed back, and she didn't sound afraid or anything like that. In fact, her voice was hard and strong, and Percival approved.
"Let us cut to the chase, shall we? We both know why I am here." Grindelwald said pleasantly, business-like.
"My answer is the same. I won't join you. And that will always be my answer." Leta said, her tone the same.
"For now." Grindelwald said, ominous. A threat.
Percival imagined that meant, at best, that the Imperius Curse would be in Leta's future. At worst, she would be tortured like him.
Leta and Grindelwald shared no more words and just like that, he left her cell after a few long moments. And like his last visit, he opened the door to Percival's cell next.
This time he was not alone, but the only Acolyte that Percival recognized was Rosier. Four more people came with them, all men, all dressed like Aurors, and Percival recalled what Leta had told him, that Aurors from Britain and France had joined Grindelwald the night she had been captured. Fear wrapped chains around his heart and lungs, and he almost staggered back, but he didn't. Whether that was from fear or surrender or something else, he wasn't sure.
The strangers looked at him and he knew, if they had any idea who he was, they likely didn't recognize him. He swallowed hard, knowing what was going to come, and knowing there was absolutely nothing he could to stop it.
"I would like you to prove your loyalty to me. Your commitment." Grindelwald said casually, looking Percival over.
Some of the former Aurors looked surprised, one did not, and- Percival felt sick to his stomach- one looked almost eager.
This had happened before. With Abernathy, with other Acolytes, and Percival realized he was trembling. It didn't matter if they saw his fear; so many things didn't matter anymore. He knew he would receive no mercy, and he would try his hardest not to beg for anything. He only hoped Leta covered her ears and didn't look through the hole. He didn't want her to see this.
Grindelwald nodded encouragingly and the ex-Auror who had looked almost eager was the first one forward, drawing his wand, and he leveled it at Percival.
"Crucio!"
A/N- I became aware halfway through this chapter that Grindelwald being a Metamorphmagus makes no sense, since Newt used a spell to reverse the Human Transfiguration he had performed on himself, but oh well. I'm still going with it and maybe things happened differently or Grindelwald couldn't hold Graves's appearance or something.
As for the song Down on Canal Street, it was a common drinking song in New York during the 20s, so I think there was a chance that Graves might have known it. I did not put any of the lyrics in this story because it is by far the dirtiest thing I have ever read, and a rugby team got disbanded indefinitely after singing it and posting it on Youtube, so there is no way any of the actual lyrics are making it in this story. I'd probably have to bump up the rating if I did, but you could look at it on Wikipedia if you're interested.
Also, liebling is the German word for 'darling', and is a word I can actually say and spell, so that is the one I had him use. I think Grindelwald would speak in his native language every now and then, even if he didn't do so in the movies.
I think there is no way Queenie couldn't not know about these two down here, so I'm not sure how to play that yet, but it will come up in the next chapter or so.