ACT IV
17.
Elephant and Castle, Southwark, South London, Ministry of Sound
It took me five minutes for the Polyjuice to kick in, an embarrassing thirty minutes to squeeze my new tits in a dress that was probably two sizes too small, forty-five minutes to get in the club, and minutes after stepping foot in the warehouse with the mechanical cadence and the mesmerising lights... I want to leave.
“Check your coat, love?”
The coat-check girl smiles from behind the counter when I turn to face her. She’s sprightly in her appearance, with her medium-length hair pulled into pig-tails. Rainbow-coloured butterfly clips keep her locks tight along her head, preventing them from falling flat on her round cherub-like and glittered face. Her green and pink lipstick glows in the dark. If she weren’t so bubbly it would almost seem sinister or eerie.
Her tits are rather top-hole as well.
I hand her my jacket and a pound note, making sure to slip the extra vials of Polyjuice in my inside-skirt pocket. I feel for my wand, strapped to my upper thigh, right as she hands me a ticket with a number, nods, and goes into the back to hang up my jacket. The mirror to my side catches my eye when I start to turn to leave. It takes me a moment to realise that I’m staring at a reflexion of ‘myself’. With the epileptic flash of the lights and the loud thumb preventing me from thinking straight, I almost thought I was looking at a blonde Penelope.
What is it about this body that responds to my environment so positively? The pulsating rhythms; the heat of the crowd; the smell of sweat, sex and liquor - it all combines into an intoxicating brew that I find I’m quite willing to lose myself in. Eyes follow me as I make my way up the steps leading to the upper level that surrounds the main floor like a crescent moon; I figure it’d be best to start there, maybe I can spot Severus quicker this way. Ranging from leering to admiring, the men - and women - watching me brings a certain feminine swagger to my step, whereas normally I’d simply ignore them or assume they were having a laugh at my expense. By the sweet Gods, this body…
I lean over the rail and peer down on the dance floor, appreciating the beautiful and oddly-adorned bodies sweating and gyrating, swaying to the music that should be considered too loud to be safe, yet is alluring and enthralling, instead. My mission - the purpose for me being here - is almost lost on me. Absent-mindedly, I reach for the coin in my skirt pocket and stroke it. Severus’ disguise is unknown to me, but I know which body I hope he occupies. Instantly, I’m reminded of Charlie and his poor taste in blokes, and I curse the fates for tempting me with the new thrill of uncharted territory all the while denying me any chance to indulge.
“May I buy you a drink?”
The deep voice comes from behind, shocking me to the here-and-now. I barely turn my head when I reply, “No thanks. I’m waiting for someone.”
“Aren’t we all,” he replies. A strong hand - his hand - snakes around my waist. Without thinking, I instinctively arch back into him, rubbing his crotch with my arse. His voice hitches as I begin to grinding against him. My body, it would seem, has a mind of its own.
The stranger spins me around and immediately embraces me. I can’t see his face.
“Why, Percy… you are quite the vixen, tonight.”
“S-Severus?” I whisper.
“Yes.” His husky response tickles my ear.
“H-how did you know it was me?” I ask breathlessly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He’s a good head or two taller than me, which makes me feel even more…
“The coin,” he breathes. “It was charmed.”
“I see.”
Finally, Severus pulls back and I am shocked at his appearance. He’s a tall, strapping black man with skin more smooth than any I’ve seen before, even on a bird. His hair is short-cropped on the sides and back with dangling dreads that hang over his forehead, into his eyes. His lips are full, slightly lighter in shade than the rest of him, and his tight shirt reveals a body that would make even the fittest professional Quidditch player envious to the point of suicide.
“Fuck, Severus…”
His lip twitches upward. “You like?”
I want to say ‘yes’, of course. I want to throw him down and fuck him right here and now, with everyone watching. I want to see if he’ll fuck me to the beat of the song blaring at me from every angle.
“If that’s your sort of thing,” I reply.
He pulls away, grabs my hand, and leads me to one of the bars along the back of the balcony. We slide between several patrons, gaining the attention of the barman.
“Makers and Coke,” Severus orders, so casually you’d think he used to such Muggle things.
“And for the beautiful lady?” the bartender asks, delivering a wink that sends me blushing like a schoolgirl.
“Ah… Well… Er…”
“She’ll have a guava martini, please.”
Thankful for the save, I relax my head on his shoulder. He tenses momentarily at the touch, but soon relaxes, wrapping an arm around me and drawing me closer. I wonder if this was one of the things Penelope was missing. She couldn’t have possibly felt this safe and secure in my arms, after all. I doubt ‘safe’ is a word that could be used interchangeably with ‘Weasley’. No, I take that back. Charlie and Bill are this strong. Even the twins are broad of shoulder and wide in chest. It’s only me, then - only Percy who couldn’t command power just by walking or standing or… being.
As we toddle from the bar down a corridor that leads to the second dance floor (which is just as big and intricate as the first), I remember that I’m supposed to be upset with Severus. I stop following him, which prompts him to turn to face me once he realises I’m no longer moving.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the raid - about the Scimitar?”
Severus looks around quickly before walking closer to me, almost spilling the two drinks in his hands. “Try and speak louder… woman. I don’t think He heard you.”
I pout, crossing my arms over my chest (forgetting to take in consideration my amble bosoms). Severus guides me to the side as some club goers pass by us.
“It’s imperative that He doesn’t suspect. He thinks I don’t know this, but he tells certain people of certain plans in an effort to weed out the spy. Only I knew of the Scimitar…”
“But, how do you get other information then? If he only tells certain plans to certain people…”
“You forget,” he says with a sly smile, “that I am the resident Potions Master. I have been tainting everything - food, potions, drink - with something that allows me to … extract the information when need be. Since it’s not a charm or other invocation, He cannot detect it.”
“You’re… brilliant,” I mumble.
His head quickly jerks up, looking at something behind me with a worried expression.
“Yes, brilliant. Except that I was followed.”
Before I can say anything, he forces me into a dark corner and sets our drinks on a nearby table.
“How do you know-mmmmf!!”
His mouth captures mine in mid-sentence, one hand on the small of my back and the other on the back of my head, pulling me deeper into the kiss. Almost immediately, I forget the last thing he said. I even forget that this is a mission - this is pretend. My eyes close and my lips part. My tongue slides lightly across his lips even as my hands find the back of his head. I don’t know when it happened, exactly, but soon we are kissing with the passion and intensity of newfound lovers. He presses my back flush against the wall, his knee sliding between my legs, brushing my pussy in a most deliberate manner. I feel my panties getting wet even as my mouth becomes dry. Everything loses focus. The music, which was once a clear, blistering cadence of rhythms, is muffled, as though being heard from underwater.
Suddenly, the warmth that I felt is stolen from me and shortly thereafter the room comes back into focus. It’s as though I had been cuddled under a blanket only to have it torn from me. Severus still has me in his grip as he looks over his shoulder.
“You see that man over there? The one with the Mohawk?”
I look down the corridor into the room adjacent and see a rather sizeable bloke with a purple Mohawk, his back to us, and obviously searching for someone.
“How can you be certain?” I ask, still rather breathless.
“As I said, I’m His Potions Master. I put an ingredient in their stockpile of Polyjuice that tells me when one of them is nearby. It’s like a magnetic push. I felt it as soon as he walked in the establishment, but couldn’t be for certain until he was within close proximity.” He turns to face me. “We should take this elsewhere.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that, in the entire time that Severus has been explaining himself, he hadn’t moved from his spot. In fact, he’s moved closer to me as his story progressed. By the time he turns back to look at me, where almost nose-to-nose. My head tilts, his eyes begin to close.
Out of my peripheral vision, I see Corin Praeposit make his way past several patrons towards us, caring very little about propriety or courtesy. Although his eyes are not on me - nor would he know my guise - I quickly pull Severus in for that kiss. He moans in my mouth, but I am frozen, transfixed on Praeposit as he whisks by us, unaware. At that moment, I realise that he may not even be looking for me, though that’s highly doubtful. Why else would he be here? A few seconds later, two other junior-level Aurors pass us, trying to catch up with Praeposit.
I pull apart from Severus, who I can hear whispering my name - my real name, mind you - and lean to the side, peering over his shoulder. The Polyjuiced Death Eater sees Corin and quickly changes direction, going into the men’s lav. By Corin and his team’s reaction - or lack thereof - I highly doubt the Death Eater’s chosen appearance is known to them.
I grab Severus’ hand and lead him down the corridor, back into the main dance floor and away from Corin.
“What-?”
“No time,” I hiss. “There are Aurors here, too.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. They aren’t concealed. They may be after me.”
“After you?” Severus asks, incredulous.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t been as adept in cloak and daggers as I should have been. One of them thinks me a spy.”
“Well, that buggers all. How could be so careless??”
“You can take away points later, Professor,” I spit. “For now, we need to get out of here.”
Severus pulls away and walks towards a door. The sign above it reads: ‘Fire Escape’. I can feel a tickle of magic engulf us.
“What did you just do?” I ask, watching as Severus opens the door.
“Befuddlement Charm,” he answers, standing aside to let me pass. I only hope the enchantment dissipates - and any trace of magic with it - before the Aurors do a standard spell sweep and find it.
18.
I begin to climb down the fire escape when Severus calls out, “No, we go up. There may be Aurors or Death Eaters below, waiting for anyone to leave the building.”
So, up we climb, zigzagging along the side of the building, the metal steps creaking underneath us. Finally - thankfully - we make it to the rooftop. There’s a brick overlay with a door in the dead-centre, obviously leading back into the club. I start to get extremely nervous.
“Do you feel that?” Severus asks as he peers over the ledge.
The prickle of magic makes the hair on the back of my neck - what little there is - stand on end.
“An Espial Web,” I reply.
“Shite!” Severus cries out, slamming his fist against the cold concrete. I’m taken aback at how uncharacteristic his outburst was. I mean, really - Severus Snape? With the mouth of a drunken sailor? “If we use any magic, it’ll mark us.”
“It won’t detect Polyjuice,” I remind him.
“Yes, but any use of actual spells, including Apparation, and they’ll be able to follow us wherever we go!”
“We can just stand here and wait it out…”
As if by cue, the door on the brick overlay swings open and the mohawked Death Eater barrels through, eyes wide with frenzied desperation. He quickly takes notice of us and raises his wand.
“Accio stupid bint!”
To my dismay, the spell reaches out to me and drags me into his arms. He turns around just in time to see Praeposit and his partners enter the doorway, wands at the ready.
“Stop where you are or I kill this fuckin’ cow!” he barks.
“Hey!” I yell, more offended at the insult than at being used as a human shield. After all, the others think I’m a helpless Muggle.
Unexpectedly, Praeposit tosses a small metal sphere on the ground. It bursts open releasing a cloud of smoke that merely hovers at ground level before branching off into two tentacle-like wisps; one aiming for the Death Eater and me, the other aiming towards Severus. Within seconds, we are engulfed in the stifling cloud and I feel a familiar lurch and twist in my body. The three of us - the Death Eater, Severus, and I - are soon writhing on the ground as the Polyjuice is violently countervailed.
I feel my clothes grow tight around me, splitting down the sides. My feet succumb to near-excruciating pain as they find themselves stuffed in shoes now far too small to fit. All the same, that hardly compares to the agony of bones being forced to twist and expand back into its original shape and density. Even worse, however, is the fact that I didn’t know the Ministry even had such a counter Potion to Polyjuice. Colour me surprised.
“Weasley!” Praeposit exclaims. When I look up, there’s a self-satisfying smirk on his wide face, peppered, of course, with righteous rage.
To my side, the Death Eater - who I know to be McNair - stands on his feet, wand raised to attack. However, the sudden reversion back to his true form leaves him too disoriented and slow.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Green light shoots from one of the junior Auror’s wands, slamming into McNair’s chest. He falls over, dead weight, just as Praeposit makes his way to me.
Severus tries to stand and cast a spell. As magic ebbs about his wand, though, the Espial Web kicks in, swarming and cocooning around him and locking him in a paralysing lattice of energy. It’s over, then - done. I have been found in the company of Death Eaters. My career - my life - is forfeit. Again, I curse the fates for this cruel turn of events.
Praeposit grabs me by the collar and lifts me bodily from the floor.
“I knew it,” he chides. “I knew you were in league with them, you fucking traitor. I can’t wait to turn you in - oh, it’ll be a shining moment in my career, most definitely. I’ll get an Order of Merlin for this, you can be certain.”
“You’ll get a swift kick in the arse if you don’t let him go.”
The space around us flashes brilliant red. I hear the soft thump of two bodies hit the hard floor. Corin, still holding on to me, turns to find his partners lying prone and unconscious. In the doorway stand Charlie and … Harry, both with wands smouldering in energy. My brother looks ready to kill, I pray that’s just for show.
“Put my brother down, now,” Charlie commands in a slow, level tone.
“I’d do what he says were I you,” Harry adds. Suddenly, his wand falters as he looks off to the side to see Severus, tied like a gift-wrapped present. “Snape!”
Corin tosses me aside, points his wand to Harry, and sends a spell that tosses him backwards down the stairs. Charlie turns to make sure he’s alright, leaving him open to Praeposit’s next attempt.
“You fucking traitors! You’ll all pay for this!” he says, the Killing Curse on the tip of his tongue.
I tackle him, forcing the green-coloured blast to miss my brother, narrowly so.
“Get off me, you li’l shite!” Praeposit shouts, punching me in the face. Blood splatters on him from my broken nose.
The world starts to get hazy; I can barely focus on my surroundings. I can see two figures tossing hexes and jinxes back and forth, neither side gaining the upper hand, but I can’t discern who’s who. I try to stand but my legs are like jelly, incapable of holding my weight. Instead, I crawl to the ledge, using it to pull me up.
“Percy! Look out!”
“Stupefy!”
I see a large body jump in front of me, the haze of the curse outlining its frame. The force of the spell, however, pushes my saviour into me, sending me careening over the ledge - three-stories to my death.
19.
I land hard on my side, hearing almost every bone in my body break. Blood clouds my vision and soon, I’m too weak to keep my eyes open. Before I succumb to darkness, however, I see Aurors rushing to me. Then, I hear my brother - that beautiful, angelic voice - shouting.
“Don’t touch him - don’t you fuckin’ touch him or I swear to all I hold dear I’ll fucking kill you all!”
His voice is closer, now - smaller, softer. “P-Percy… please talk to me… please…”
I cough my response - a small bit of laughter - and feel blood spit out.
“I… I think I fell down, Charlie…”
My eyes close. Clear as day, I can see the Burrow off in the background; feel the damp grass tickling me from underneath; smell Mum’s glorious cooking. And then there’s Charlie, young as time yet already more than I could ever hope to be.
I hear his voice catch in his throat. “Yes, yes you did. Can you… can you move… anything?”
“I’m cold.”
I feel something drape over me; it smells of Charlie - like leather and dragons and all things I wanted to be yet couldn’t find the strength to become. If this is to be my pall, I think, I’m okay with that. I have little choice otherwise.
“Here you go, Percival.”
“Don’t -GAK-call me that…!” Even in death I’m little more than a spoilt brat, fighting to be seen - noticed - in a family of my superiors.
“Don’t worry, Perce… Mum will have you fixed in no time,” Charlie offers weakly through much stronger tears.
“She’s... going to -cough- be mad.”
“Yes, but not at you.”
And that’s the end of it, my story. What a rather lack-lustre way to go, I would think.
-EPILOGUE-
Elephant and Castle, Southwark, South London, Ministry of Sound
It took me five minutes for the Polyjuice to kick in, an embarrassing thirty minutes to squeeze my new tits in a dress that was probably two sizes too small, forty-five minutes to get in the club, and minutes after stepping foot in the warehouse with the mechanical cadence and the mesmerising lights... I want to leave.
“Check your coat, love?”
The coat-check girl smiles from behind the counter when I turn to face her. She’s sprightly in her appearance, with her medium-length hair pulled into pig-tails. Rainbow-coloured butterfly clips keep her locks tight along her head, preventing them from falling flat on her round cherub-like and glittered face. Her green and pink lipstick glows in the dark. If she weren’t so bubbly it would almost seem sinister or eerie.
Her tits are rather top-hole as well.
I hand her my jacket and a pound note, making sure to slip the extra vials of Polyjuice in my inside-skirt pocket. I feel for my wand, strapped to my upper thigh, right as she hands me a ticket with a number, nods, and goes into the back to hang up my jacket. The mirror to my side catches my eye when I start to turn to leave. It takes me a moment to realise that I’m staring at a reflexion of ‘myself’. With the epileptic flash of the lights and the loud thumb preventing me from thinking straight, I almost thought I was looking at a blonde Penelope.
What is it about this body that responds to my environment so positively? The pulsating rhythms; the heat of the crowd; the smell of sweat, sex and liquor - it all combines into an intoxicating brew that I find I’m quite willing to lose myself in. Eyes follow me as I make my way up the steps leading to the upper level that surrounds the main floor like a crescent moon; I figure it’d be best to start there, maybe I can spot Severus quicker this way. Ranging from leering to admiring, the men - and women - watching me brings a certain feminine swagger to my step, whereas normally I’d simply ignore them or assume they were having a laugh at my expense. By the sweet Gods, this body…
I lean over the rail and peer down on the dance floor, appreciating the beautiful and oddly-adorned bodies sweating and gyrating, swaying to the music that should be considered too loud to be safe, yet is alluring and enthralling, instead. My mission - the purpose for me being here - is almost lost on me. Absent-mindedly, I reach for the coin in my skirt pocket and stroke it. Severus’ disguise is unknown to me, but I know which body I hope he occupies. Instantly, I’m reminded of Charlie and his poor taste in blokes, and I curse the fates for tempting me with the new thrill of uncharted territory all the while denying me any chance to indulge.
“May I buy you a drink?”
The deep voice comes from behind, shocking me to the here-and-now. I barely turn my head when I reply, “No thanks. I’m waiting for someone.”
“Aren’t we all,” he replies. A strong hand - his hand - snakes around my waist. Without thinking, I instinctively arch back into him, rubbing his crotch with my arse. His voice hitches as I begin to grinding against him. My body, it would seem, has a mind of its own.
The stranger spins me around and immediately embraces me. I can’t see his face.
“Why, Percy… you are quite the vixen, tonight.”
“S-Severus?” I whisper.
“Yes.” His husky response tickles my ear.
“H-how did you know it was me?” I ask breathlessly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He’s a good head or two taller than me, which makes me feel even more…
“The coin,” he breathes. “It was charmed.”
“I see.”
Finally, Severus pulls back and I am shocked at his appearance. He’s a tall, strapping black man with skin more smooth than any I’ve seen before, even on a bird. His hair is short-cropped on the sides and back with dangling dreads that hang over his forehead, into his eyes. His lips are full, slightly lighter in shade than the rest of him, and his tight shirt reveals a body that would make even the fittest professional Quidditch player envious to the point of suicide.
“Fuck, Severus…”
His lip twitches upward. “You like?”
I want to say ‘yes’, of course. I want to throw him down and fuck him right here and now, with everyone watching. I want to see if he’ll fuck me to the beat of the song blaring at me from every angle.
“If that’s your sort of thing,” I reply.
He pulls away, grabs my hand, and leads me to one of the bars along the back of the balcony. We slide between several patrons, gaining the attention of the barman.
“Makers and Coke,” Severus orders, so casually you’d think he used to such Muggle things.
“And for the beautiful lady?” the bartender asks, delivering a wink that sends me blushing like a schoolgirl.
“Ah… Well… Er…”
“She’ll have a guava martini, please.”
Thankful for the save, I relax my head on his shoulder. He tenses momentarily at the touch, but soon relaxes, wrapping an arm around me and drawing me closer. I wonder if this was one of the things Penelope was missing. She couldn’t have possibly felt this safe and secure in my arms, after all. I doubt ‘safe’ is a word that could be used interchangeably with ‘Weasley’. No, I take that back. Charlie and Bill are this strong. Even the twins are broad of shoulder and wide in chest. It’s only me, then - only Percy who couldn’t command power just by walking or standing or… being.
As we toddle from the bar down a corridor that leads to the second dance floor (which is just as big and intricate as the first), I remember that I’m supposed to be upset with Severus. I stop following him, which prompts him to turn to face me once he realises I’m no longer moving.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the raid - about the Scimitar?”
Severus looks around quickly before walking closer to me, almost spilling the two drinks in his hands. “Try and speak louder… woman. I don’t think He heard you.”
I pout, crossing my arms over my chest (forgetting to take in consideration my amble bosoms). Severus guides me to the side as some club goers pass by us.
“It’s imperative that He doesn’t suspect. He thinks I don’t know this, but he tells certain people of certain plans in an effort to weed out the spy. Only I knew of the Scimitar…”
“But, how do you get other information then? If he only tells certain plans to certain people…”
“You forget,” he says with a sly smile, “that I am the resident Potions Master. I have been tainting everything - food, potions, drink - with something that allows me to … extract the information when need be. Since it’s not a charm or other invocation, He cannot detect it.”
“You’re… brilliant,” I mumble.
His head quickly jerks up, looking at something behind me with a worried expression.
“Yes, brilliant. Except that I was followed.”
Before I can say anything, he forces me into a dark corner and sets our drinks on a nearby table.
“How do you know-mmmmf!!”
His mouth captures mine in mid-sentence, one hand on the small of my back and the other on the back of my head, pulling me deeper into the kiss. Almost immediately, I forget the last thing he said. I even forget that this is a mission - this is pretend. My eyes close and my lips part. My tongue slides lightly across his lips even as my hands find the back of his head. I don’t know when it happened, exactly, but soon we are kissing with the passion and intensity of newfound lovers. He presses my back flush against the wall, his knee sliding between my legs, brushing my pussy in a most deliberate manner. I feel my panties getting wet even as my mouth becomes dry. Everything loses focus. The music, which was once a clear, blistering cadence of rhythms, is muffled, as though being heard from underwater.
Suddenly, the warmth that I felt is stolen from me and shortly thereafter the room comes back into focus. It’s as though I had been cuddled under a blanket only to have it torn from me. Severus still has me in his grip as he looks over his shoulder.
“You see that man over there? The one with the Mohawk?”
I look down the corridor into the room adjacent and see a rather sizeable bloke with a purple Mohawk, his back to us, and obviously searching for someone.
“How can you be certain?” I ask, still rather breathless.
“As I said, I’m His Potions Master. I put an ingredient in their stockpile of Polyjuice that tells me when one of them is nearby. It’s like a magnetic push. I felt it as soon as he walked in the establishment, but couldn’t be for certain until he was within close proximity.” He turns to face me. “We should take this elsewhere.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that, in the entire time that Severus has been explaining himself, he hadn’t moved from his spot. In fact, he’s moved closer to me as his story progressed. By the time he turns back to look at me, where almost nose-to-nose. My head tilts, his eyes begin to close.
Out of my peripheral vision, I see Corin Praeposit make his way past several patrons towards us, caring very little about propriety or courtesy. Although his eyes are not on me - nor would he know my guise - I quickly pull Severus in for that kiss. He moans in my mouth, but I am frozen, transfixed on Praeposit as he whisks by us, unaware. At that moment, I realise that he may not even be looking for me, though that’s highly doubtful. Why else would he be here? A few seconds later, two other junior-level Aurors pass us, trying to catch up with Praeposit.
I pull apart from Severus, who I can hear whispering my name - my real name, mind you - and lean to the side, peering over his shoulder. The Polyjuiced Death Eater sees Corin and quickly changes direction, going into the men’s lav. By Corin and his team’s reaction - or lack thereof - I highly doubt the Death Eater’s chosen appearance is known to them.
I grab Severus’ hand and lead him down the corridor, back into the main dance floor and away from Corin.
“What-?”
“No time,” I hiss. “There are Aurors here, too.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. They aren’t concealed. They may be after me.”
“After you?” Severus asks, incredulous.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t been as adept in cloak and daggers as I should have been. One of them thinks me a spy.”
“Well, that buggers all. How could be so careless??”
“You can take away points later, Professor,” I spit. “For now, we need to get out of here.”
Severus pulls away and walks towards a door. The sign above it reads: ‘Fire Escape’. I can feel a tickle of magic engulf us.
“What did you just do?” I ask, watching as Severus opens the door.
“Befuddlement Charm,” he answers, standing aside to let me pass. I only hope the enchantment dissipates - and any trace of magic with it - before the Aurors do a standard spell sweep and find it.
18.
I begin to climb down the fire escape when Severus calls out, “No, we go up. There may be Aurors or Death Eaters below, waiting for anyone to leave the building.”
So, up we climb, zigzagging along the side of the building, the metal steps creaking underneath us. Finally - thankfully - we make it to the rooftop. There’s a brick overlay with a door in the dead-centre, obviously leading back into the club. I start to get extremely nervous.
“Do you feel that?” Severus asks as he peers over the ledge.
The prickle of magic makes the hair on the back of my neck - what little there is - stand on end.
“An Espial Web,” I reply.
“Shite!” Severus cries out, slamming his fist against the cold concrete. I’m taken aback at how uncharacteristic his outburst was. I mean, really - Severus Snape? With the mouth of a drunken sailor? “If we use any magic, it’ll mark us.”
“It won’t detect Polyjuice,” I remind him.
“Yes, but any use of actual spells, including Apparation, and they’ll be able to follow us wherever we go!”
“We can just stand here and wait it out…”
As if by cue, the door on the brick overlay swings open and the mohawked Death Eater barrels through, eyes wide with frenzied desperation. He quickly takes notice of us and raises his wand.
“Accio stupid bint!”
To my dismay, the spell reaches out to me and drags me into his arms. He turns around just in time to see Praeposit and his partners enter the doorway, wands at the ready.
“Stop where you are or I kill this fuckin’ cow!” he barks.
“Hey!” I yell, more offended at the insult than at being used as a human shield. After all, the others think I’m a helpless Muggle.
Unexpectedly, Praeposit tosses a small metal sphere on the ground. It bursts open releasing a cloud of smoke that merely hovers at ground level before branching off into two tentacle-like wisps; one aiming for the Death Eater and me, the other aiming towards Severus. Within seconds, we are engulfed in the stifling cloud and I feel a familiar lurch and twist in my body. The three of us - the Death Eater, Severus, and I - are soon writhing on the ground as the Polyjuice is violently countervailed.
I feel my clothes grow tight around me, splitting down the sides. My feet succumb to near-excruciating pain as they find themselves stuffed in shoes now far too small to fit. All the same, that hardly compares to the agony of bones being forced to twist and expand back into its original shape and density. Even worse, however, is the fact that I didn’t know the Ministry even had such a counter Potion to Polyjuice. Colour me surprised.
“Weasley!” Praeposit exclaims. When I look up, there’s a self-satisfying smirk on his wide face, peppered, of course, with righteous rage.
To my side, the Death Eater - who I know to be McNair - stands on his feet, wand raised to attack. However, the sudden reversion back to his true form leaves him too disoriented and slow.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Green light shoots from one of the junior Auror’s wands, slamming into McNair’s chest. He falls over, dead weight, just as Praeposit makes his way to me.
Severus tries to stand and cast a spell. As magic ebbs about his wand, though, the Espial Web kicks in, swarming and cocooning around him and locking him in a paralysing lattice of energy. It’s over, then - done. I have been found in the company of Death Eaters. My career - my life - is forfeit. Again, I curse the fates for this cruel turn of events.
Praeposit grabs me by the collar and lifts me bodily from the floor.
“I knew it,” he chides. “I knew you were in league with them, you fucking traitor. I can’t wait to turn you in - oh, it’ll be a shining moment in my career, most definitely. I’ll get an Order of Merlin for this, you can be certain.”
“You’ll get a swift kick in the arse if you don’t let him go.”
The space around us flashes brilliant red. I hear the soft thump of two bodies hit the hard floor. Corin, still holding on to me, turns to find his partners lying prone and unconscious. In the doorway stand Charlie and … Harry, both with wands smouldering in energy. My brother looks ready to kill, I pray that’s just for show.
“Put my brother down, now,” Charlie commands in a slow, level tone.
“I’d do what he says were I you,” Harry adds. Suddenly, his wand falters as he looks off to the side to see Severus, tied like a gift-wrapped present. “Snape!”
Corin tosses me aside, points his wand to Harry, and sends a spell that tosses him backwards down the stairs. Charlie turns to make sure he’s alright, leaving him open to Praeposit’s next attempt.
“You fucking traitors! You’ll all pay for this!” he says, the Killing Curse on the tip of his tongue.
I tackle him, forcing the green-coloured blast to miss my brother, narrowly so.
“Get off me, you li’l shite!” Praeposit shouts, punching me in the face. Blood splatters on him from my broken nose.
The world starts to get hazy; I can barely focus on my surroundings. I can see two figures tossing hexes and jinxes back and forth, neither side gaining the upper hand, but I can’t discern who’s who. I try to stand but my legs are like jelly, incapable of holding my weight. Instead, I crawl to the ledge, using it to pull me up.
“Percy! Look out!”
“Stupefy!”
I see a large body jump in front of me, the haze of the curse outlining its frame. The force of the spell, however, pushes my saviour into me, sending me careening over the ledge - three-stories to my death.
19.
I land hard on my side, hearing almost every bone in my body break. Blood clouds my vision and soon, I’m too weak to keep my eyes open. Before I succumb to darkness, however, I see Aurors rushing to me. Then, I hear my brother - that beautiful, angelic voice - shouting.
“Don’t touch him - don’t you fuckin’ touch him or I swear to all I hold dear I’ll fucking kill you all!”
His voice is closer, now - smaller, softer. “P-Percy… please talk to me… please…”
I cough my response - a small bit of laughter - and feel blood spit out.
“I… I think I fell down, Charlie…”
My eyes close. Clear as day, I can see the Burrow off in the background; feel the damp grass tickling me from underneath; smell Mum’s glorious cooking. And then there’s Charlie, young as time yet already more than I could ever hope to be.
I hear his voice catch in his throat. “Yes, yes you did. Can you… can you move… anything?”
“I’m cold.”
I feel something drape over me; it smells of Charlie - like leather and dragons and all things I wanted to be yet couldn’t find the strength to become. If this is to be my pall, I think, I’m okay with that. I have little choice otherwise.
“Here you go, Percival.”
“Don’t -GAK-call me that…!” Even in death I’m little more than a spoilt brat, fighting to be seen - noticed - in a family of my superiors.
“Don’t worry, Perce… Mum will have you fixed in no time,” Charlie offers weakly through much stronger tears.
“She’s... going to -cough- be mad.”
“Yes, but not at you.”
And that’s the end of it, my story. What a rather lack-lustre way to go, I would think.
-EPILOGUE-