February 24, 1998

The way we left the Ministry was covert, quiet and stumbly as I could barely feel my legs. The way Percy's tight grip on my waist, his other hand on the wrist of the hand I had managed to get over his shoulder made me look and feel like a sack of potatoes. He helped keep me upright down the back staircases so we would not be seen as Amelia Waldrope cleared a path down to ensure our safety and privacy, even if the employees had left some time ago. No one wanted to be spotted after hours- to much risk of being accused and prosecuted as a spy, and Percy and Amelia could not risk that level of association with me.

As we arrived at the exit, I was scared of what we would find when we left the Ministry, because the floo was out of the question, Percy had disconnected his fireplace from the Ministry floo months ago, stating he had a convenient apparition point and a lamp for needed calls. Which the Transportation and Floo Office agreed with.

We left out of the guest entrance, that silly telephone box that offered a janky, painful ride on my bruised, tortured body. The three of us bracing for what we might see when we stepped out on the streets of London to the nearest apparition point.

The scene itself was horrific.

I was expecting little bits and pieces of Elihu and his entourage to spread all over the street. If there was anything left at all. Fingers, bones and limbs – something out of a war novel and a sense of morbid, half ware finality.

There was blood. A trail of blood leading towards a nearby wall, coming still in the cracks or flowing down to the street below. Pieces of torn robes that matched what Elihu had been wearing when I last saw him confronting Yaxley.

Percy tried to turn me away, pulling and ragging me to the apparition point, but the image had so intensely ingrained into my mind that I could never remove it from my memory. In only a couple of moments, I had the image I would hold for the rest of my life.

The trail of blood led to a tusk of Cassandra's boar mask, perhaps torn off by a curse or broken off in a fall in the initial ambush. Nearby, I could see the scratched, half broken mask of an osprey had come to rest next to a trash can at an alley entrance. Close by, there was blood on the upper part of a wall, as if someone had been thrown against the wall to do more damage.

The comfort was that I had not seen a body, but that was a small matter. If the Aurors survived, they would not leave a body behind to be desecrated or hidden. A corpse could be proof of atrocities on the international stage. It could rally a nation that meandered in the middle of forming an alliance or promising neutrality. What Elihu had done today was too stupid to be only watched by three Aurors... Maybe the others had been at the perimeter? Maybe there was a chance-

My dwelling was cut short by our emergence to the apparition point and the sensation of being sucking into a tube. The momentary lack of air and the sudden rush of oxygen in the aftermath.

It felt like a familiar, if not frequent routine. Percy helping me into the flat and into the bed, making me move my hands to see if my muscles were still tense and seizing from the repeated use of the curse. I had not been repeatedly tortured since Valencia published that article of Semper Honestus before Christmas, but it had been a learning experience for both of us for the inevitability of another such assault.

We did not go to the bedroom, Percy sat me on the couch and started making me clench and unclench my hands, rotate my ankles and shoulders, slowly turn my head and to keep doing that while he got me hot towels for my aching, pained muscles. Everything hurt. Moving made it hurt more, but I needed to keep the stiffness out of my limbs so I would be quicker to physically recover, even if my mind continued to scream about the pain I was in – perhaps this would help lessen its long-term effects?

There were a lot of rumors around the office about what worked after a torture session.

These ideas seemed the most reasonable.

Someone tried leeching apparently and I had questions.

I would prefer to devote my mind to that probing question over any of the other thoughts that swirled through my mind.

Percy came back, putting a heat charmed towel on my neck and a large charmed blanket in my lap that he tucked around me as I finally gave in to the urge to lay down on the uncomfortable couch. It spoke to how tired I was that I did not resist or comment on the state of the couch.

"Coffee or tea?"

The recesses of my mind recalled that I did not keep decaf coffee in the house, once referring to it as an affront against nature. Percy had some that he drank after work in the evening to chase down some medication or just to try and come down from a stressful day.

I sucked up my intuitive dislike – the thought of a warm drink in places the warming charms could not reach was soothing, even if it was not my preferred drink.

"Tea please."

Percy looked at me as if I had grown an extra head.

"I don't have any decaf coffee."

"Oh, right!" He looked like a cult leader who was coveting a new lamb for the flock, all toothy, broom salesman grin in an effort to take my mind off of everything for a moment. "Milk and sugar?"

"Whatever you like."

The thrill of making me tea had overcome Percy's terror and dread at my being tortured for the moment. He was on his feet and in the kitchen, warming the kettle and pulling down his collection of tea.

My cousin might be dead.

The thought came unbidden, something that I had been struggling to avoid from the time I saw the remnants of the battle.

Quincy could be dead.

Cassandra might be dead.

Elihu might be...

My hand flew up to my mouth in a silent horror.

No...

It can't be true!

I could see Quincy in my mind's eye, a lanky teenager with broad shoulders and a bright smile. The way he encouraged me during our summer dueling lessons with Grandpa Atticus after he put me in the dirt with a couple of spells. The way he stepped into a brotherly role in those moments where Atticus would make a disappointed sigh he was sure I could not see. Quincy was instead all bright warmth as he encouraged me to try again, ignoring this idea of a family disappointment that had so ingrained itself in me by that point.

Cassandra's cool, unbothered expression as she watched the world around her the four of us sat at café in New Orleans. My cousin Zuri drinking coffee and teasing her brother who was by this point openly flirting with Cassandra who would just roll her eyes and return to watching the half-naked street performers. Unfazed by their near nudity as I covered my eyes in embarrassment. She would tease me about it of course, telling me I would find that more interesting when I was older.

Elihu and his brilliant, stupid mind and stupid bravery each and every time he opened his mouth. The burden and knowledge of the fact he was sitting near the epicenter of a historic moment – even if the outcome eluded him. The ferocity of him implored him to stay and fight for those he represented who wanted to wait out the storm and try to make sense of the madness to warn people at home. Elihu always had a sort of self-possessed determination to him that I admired, it was the

I could see my aunt and uncle receiving the news of their only son's demise. I could see Zuri in tears at the loss of her brother, large crocodile tears as her mother sank onto the plaid sofa in the living room and Uncle John struggling to comfort her in their darkest moment. Who would deliver that message if Elihu was dead? How would word get home?

What if I had to tell them?

I did not know when I started to cry, it was a quiet thing, but I found I could not stop once I had begun. It was a quiet torrent of tears that would not, could not, stop until my own will and efforts. This was the stress and pain of the last several hours, coming free as if unleashed by the destruction of a dam.

"Darling," Percy swooped back into the room, holding my favorite mug and some steaming leaf juice within. "I have your-" Percy stopped suddenly as I turned my face away to try and hide my tears.

There was a rush of footsteps and the clink of the mug on the coffee table as I buried my face in my hands, unable to hold back the sudden onslaught of reality any longer. Percy had sat down next to me on the couch and pulled me into a hug while making soothing noises and telling me he loved me as I soaked his robes in tears and snot while making horrible hiccupping sobs.

"You need to take some pain potion," Percy murmured into my hair as my sobs subsided slightly. My hands tightened their grip on his work robes as one of his hands moved away to pull a vial out of his pocket. His other hands started moving soothingly through my hair.

I sniffled loudly and took the offered vial, popping the cork off with my thumb and downing it in one gulp. Percy took the vial from me and replaced it with the warm mug of tea, which I tried to hide a near instinctive dislike for and did my best to avoid making a joke about the Boston Tea Party.

The tea was not bad. It would not become a habit, but it was tolerable.

I did need to find some decaf coffee for myself.

We sat in silence as I sipped my tea, the aches in my limbs dulling from a burning sensation to a painful ache that rattle through my joints. Percy looked as if he had a lot to say but the way he wrung his hands for a time before putting his hand on my knee.

"You do not need to go back to the Ministry."

"I'm sorry?"

Percy reached over to take my now empty mug from my hands and set it back on the coffee table with a sigh. "You're not going back. That's done."

"You don't get to order me around."

We were far too close to each other to have this argument. I was far to sore and miserable to talk this through and it felt like every string I had for conflict was about to be plucked. Percy seemed to feel the same way and stood up, withdrawing from me and getting to his feet to pace the room like an irritated housecat.

"You need to leave."

I glanced out the door, hoping for clarification, half convinced for a moment he was telling me to leave the flat for good. I glanced back at Percy, his face showing a level of distress that I was now positive he had been repressing from before we left the Ministry.

"You need to leave Britain. You need to go home." Percy looked like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. His hand was in his hair, gripping it tightly as he shook and paced. "Your father was right. You can't stay here!"

"Oh, now you're bringing my father into this!"

"I don't mean-"

"I know what you mean!" The cruciatus curse could make me irritable in recovery, but the mention of my father sent me over the edge. My hands shook and some primal, childish part of me really wanted my father in that moment. "I can leave anytime! But I am choosing to stay and make something better-"

"Better? How is any of this better?" Percy snapped, his hands still shaking as he found his composure again by sheer force of will. "I find you after y-your torture episodes and think you're dead! Merlin's beard, Audrey, this is not better! None of it is!"

"You're staying for your family! I am too!"

Percy opened his mouth to say something, but I was not done yet.

"I'm staying for you! You are my family just as much as Lucinda and Tavish and you think I wouldn't tear down a government to keep you safe you-!"

"That is not the point I'm trying to make here!" Percy was a continuous display of repressed energy fighting to go somewhere other than just bounce around his body and mind. This was a young man who had been restrained by circumstances and had far too much time to think over the last several months. "You need to leave the Ministry! You need to go into hiding! That's not negotiable anymore!"

"Don't yell at me!" The anger and the pain potion overcame my physical pain for the moment. "I'm not going to run off and hide like the coward you and everyone else seems to think I am! I'll go into hiding when I think it's necessary, not before and not at your whims!"

I threw the blanket from my body and rose from the couch on wobbly, coltish legs while doing my best to storm out of the room. The effect was lost for it, but my rage and unbottled emotions were enough to get the point across. I staggered my way into the bedroom, pulling a nightgown out of the drawer so I could take my Ministry robes off and go to bed. I flung my robes into the clothes hamper, ignoring my screaming shoulders and slid the nightgown over my head before crawling into bed.

For the next several hours, I lay in bed periodically dozing off and waking up to stew in my anger and aching irritation. It was easier to be alone in that moment with my own thoughts and dread when it all came over me again and the scenes outside the Ministry returned to my mind's eye.

Every time I closed my eyes, there was blood flowing through the street and the mask Quincy wore was laying out on the ground like a bird with clipped wings...

No. I could not keep going there. I had to think about other things.

I thought about birds in little hats.

I thought about the Greek Mythology book Percy was reading- an obscenely nice collection with background historical explanation of the mythos.

I heaved a sigh.

Truthfully, the worst thing in the world is going to bed angry. I wrapped myself in the quilt to pretend to be asleep as the door creaked open to announce Percy's presence.

I did not turn to look at him.

I stayed still like a coward as I felt his eyes rest on my form.

There was the rustle of cloth and the noise of Percy throwing his clothes into the hamper. The sudden motion of the mattress as Percy climbed into the bed beside me with a heavy sigh.

"I know you're awake."

I did not oblige that with an answer- focusing on the quiet dark hole I had made for myself by burying my face in the quilt.

"I'm sorry."

I stayed still. Why wasn't he sleeping on the couch? I thought we had a fight routine? I get the bed. He sleeps on the couch. It worked fine after our last fight.

"I... I hate it when they hurt you. I hate that I can't do anything about it. I shouldn't have yelled or tried to order you to do something that you're not ready to do. We're a team, you're not... You're not someone I want to order around. That does nothing for us."

His hand brushed my lower back as Percy leaned back slightly.

"It's hard sometimes. Knowing that you're a braver than you give yourself credit for."

I'm not brave. What I do is necessary and forced upon me by the men in my life who are all just overbearing and- and – ugh!

"I never believed you to be a coward, I don't know why you even think that."

I focused on the warmth of his hand, the way it pulled down on the blanket from the pressure and weight of his presence. Offering a sort of solid reality to cling to, allowing me to note that this was not a dream and I was very much awake.

"We both could have left long ago, you could have left alone and I would have understood, but we both picked a harder road were we have to watch each get hurt for our mutual decisions... or those of other people."

Hm... That was an odd pause.

I sat up quickly. The dim light of the room from the window granting me a look at Percy's tired expression as he squinted at me mid-act of putting his glasses on the bedside table. Percy leaned back in an obvious surprise as I looked at him with a furrowed brow and a dread swirling in my stomach like a ship tossed by the waves. I managed to ignore that he was comfortably situated for the night in his skin and pair of dark boxers.

"When did they – "

"Whenever life is not going Yaxley's way, he'll torture whoever he dislikes who's closest. Generally, it's me. I'm not exactly trusted upstairs, but I know where all the papers are."

"Percy!"

Percy shrugged, a slightly amused grin on his face. "He does it as he's storming out of the office, once I'm behind the desk, he leaves. I only get it once."

I grabbed his hand with both of mine at some point when he was speaking, but I was not sure when.

"Hey, you're going to break my hand."

"You need to tell me these things!"

"You're getting it worse than me."

I was not sure if unpredicted, multiple rounds of torture curses are better than seeing Yaxley in a mood and bracing for impact on a regular basis. I would call that worse.

"No, because I'm a political piece."

"So am I, my father's been prodding the administration for months, I think they're using me as a way to try and get at my father in case we're not as estranged as we claim to be."

"You need to leave too! Maybe we both do!"

Percy shifted slightly, he looked down at our entwined hands and took a deep breath. "We can't stay."

I opened my mouth to start rehashing our earlier argument, but Percy squeezed my hands and leaned forward quickly to kiss me before I could start. His mouth moved determinedly against mine, leaving me breathless and a little bit shaky at the radiating warmth of his body being so close to mine.

"We've had this row already," Percy muttered as he pulled away from me. I focused on the intensity of his eyes and the dark circles under them. "If you say we should leave, then we'll leave. If you think we can stay a little longer, than that's what we'll do. We're a team. We have handled all of this together and we'll continue to do so."

I nodded slowly.

There was some part of me that understood that this was a high minded ideal, Percy was prone to that, there was very little cynicism in this man. We were in this together, that was unchanging, but some part of me understood that perhaps we may have to part ways for the benefit of all we wanted moving forward. We would never be able to fully prioritize each other because so many moving parts around us called for something to be done.

The security of such a promise would have to be enough.

It was easy to throw back the quilt and welcome Percy to bed – he was very warm and offered a soothing warmth to my aching limbs.

Oo0Oo0

My return to work had been an event so tense that I could barely stomach my own presence in the office. My coworkers glanced at me and put their heads back down to work, another secretary slid me some tea and I was too tired to spare a thought at it not being coffee. I spent my day wincing, slyly drinking pain potion out of sight of my coworkers and mindlessly binning as many documents as I could while I thought about going home to lay down and sleep for an unnatural amount of time.

Over the following days, Yaxley made me stay later to finish something pointless, because he's an unhinged asshole and I hope someone kills him in the near future. It took me two hours to get back to the flat. I sent Percy when he came down to look for me- him not being seen by Yaxley was a narrow escape.

When I came into the flat, kicking off my shoes and imagining ways to poison Yaxley's tea, I noticed a strange something on the coffee table that was vaguely familiar to me. The American baker down the street kept some more controversial papers hidden for discernment these days. Percy and the baker had an accord, Percy warned him about Ministry raids, the baker gave Percy verbal news and extra newspapers.

I held the paper in my trembling hands and took several deep breathes. It was wrapped in brown paper so no Muggle could see the moving pictures. Getting newspapers that were not the Daily Prophet from the baker was the easiest way to get news these days – it was also far more trustworthy.

They were generally low-quality conspiracy rags, but there were apparently real journalists on their staff, occasionally released in times of crisis.

I opened the brown paper bundle slowly, scared of the headline that would great me upon doing so.

MACUSA Embassy Representative Survives Attempted Assassination

I read the article with vigor, with the life and energy that had suddenly returned to me in the moment I had seen the headline.

After an assassination attempt on a MACUSA Embassy Representative outside of the Ministry of Magic...

I skimmed the papers understanding of the event. Weathers heavily injured in the first moments of the assault. Aurors fought back against the surprise attack in his defense, some maintaining injuries themselves before managing to evacuate the wounded diplomat... Reportedly the party was attacked by Death Eaters... or Ministry militants...

Per an issued statement from Representative Weathers, he is 'alive, in moderately decent health and word of the incident has been passed to the proper channels of MACUSA.'

And suddenly, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

But also terrifying, because joy did not last long these days.

Oo0Oo0

Author's Note: Percy and Audrey live peacefully, not a lot of conflict, except the conflict brought into the relationship by outside sources.