(no subject)
Now that the OR exchange is over, I'm going to assume it's okay to post my 'fic here.
First, however, a word from our sponsors a note about how this 'fic came to be:
I started writing a couple of days after the accident, and in a few minutes I was staring at "The affair hadn't started until after Molly's death" and wondering how the hell I could get A/M from that. Then Monty sneaked in with his indignation at being wrongfully accused of murder, and suddenly it occurred to me the lengths he'd go to to clear his name.
I was very happy with the twists I came up with, but also very worried that I wouldn't pull it off right. redcandle17 can avow to the number of times I made her read and re-read scenes for consistency. But I can now say that I'm actually very happy with how this 'fic turned out, and I'm thrilled that luckybrans liked it, because I consider her the patron saint of the ship, and I was very worried it wouldn't be worthy of her.
Anyway, even if you commented at overcomingrvlry, I'd appreciate comments here just so I can have them in my memories!
Title: I'll Show You What I Can Be
Author: juju_bean
Rating PG-13 for themes and language
Pairings: Angelina/Arthur, Angelina/Montague
Summary: Hunted by the Ministry on charges of murder, Montague will do anything to clear his name... even if it means blackmailing an old girlfriend.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters were created by JK Rowling and are copyrighted to their rightful owners. There is no copyright infringement intended.
-?
Angelina Johnson never thought that she'd work in an office. She'd loved Quidditch so much in school that she couldn't have ever imagined a future without it. It wasn't the fame that she wanted; it was the freedom of flying. The exhilaration of doing something she loved for the rest of her life.
But then school had ended, and the Second War had begun in earnest. No one had time for Quidditch; they were all too busy trying to stay alive. Trying to defeat a monster and his minions bent on enslaving both the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds.
She was lucky to have landed even a job at the Ministry. With the War raging, everyone was looking for measures of security. The Ministry, as unreliable as it had proved to be in the past, shone like a beacon of hope for the Wizarding world. With Harry Potter in hiding, possibly even dead, people needed something to pin their hopes on. So they turned to the Ministry, looking to Rufus Scrimgeour to lead them through it. And, to the surprise of many skeptics, the new Minister of Magic had proved competent enough. He had tightened the Ministry, cutting away departments and offices that seemed superfluous. Leaks had cost lives in the last war, and they couldn't afford that this time.
Strangely enough, Arthur Weasley's new office, the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Object, had proved itself to be incredibly useful. In the two years that it had been around, the office had made innumerous arrests of war profiteers who sold fake products and false hope, and had even exposed a Death Eater or two.
She had, of course, landed the job because of her connection to Arthur's sons. Angelina and the Weasley twins had all been in Gryffindor, had played on the same Quidditch team. She had even briefly dated Fred. After Hogwarts, however, they had each gone their separate ways. The Weasley twins had founded their own joke shop, and Angelina, against the better wishes of her parents, had rented a flat in London and gone to work as a paper pusher.
Angelina supposed it would've been measurably exciting to be more active in the office, going out on raids and making arrests, but after a year of working for Arthur, she found that she rather liked the quiet part of working behind the scenes.
Before her first year was up, she was promoted to Arthur's assistant.
It was a big promotion, and one that set tongues talking all around the Ministry. Rumors surfaced, but none of them carried any truth. The affair hadn't started until after Molly's death.
-?-
If they found him, he was dead.
Montague had always thought himself a likable fellow. Certainly his fellow Slytherins had never had any trouble getting on with him in the seven years that he had attended Hogwarts. That cordiality, however, didn't seem to extend to the Wizarding World.
But then, after the attack on Hogwarts, after Dumbledore's death and Harry Potter's subsequent disappearance, the Ministry of Magic was out of blood, and it didn't particularly care whether or not the blood was innocent. As long as the person could be tied to the Slytherins, and by association the Dark Lord, the Ministry was looking to kill someone. Their victim, should he be a widely known Death Eater, would be a trophy, and a monument to Scrimgeour's ability to lead the Wizarding World out of this war.
Of course, Montague himself hadn't even known he was an infamous Death Eater until wanted posters began showing up, even in Muggle towns, offering a reward for his capture. Montague hadn't been in the group that had entered Hogwarts that night, but somehow his involvement in the scheme to breach the castle had leaked out. These days people fed on gossip like it was a life-sustaining substance, and over the last two years the facts of what had happened the night of Dumbledore's death didn't even resemble the truth of what had happened. And before Montague knew it, people placed him as one of the Death Eaters not only present at Dumbledore's murder, but also one of the Death Eaters instrumental to the conspiracy to invade Hogwarts.
It had taken over a year, but Montague had finally found a way to clear himself. He knew he wasn't entirely innocent, but there was no chance in hell that he was going to let himself die for Draco Malfoy; because he was certain that was what the little ferret had in mind. Rumors had recently begun to circulate about Potter's disappearance, and what the Boy Who Lived was really up to. And in the rumors Potter's name became linked with Malfoy's with more and more frequency. Having been a Slytherin himself, Montague had a pretty good idea of what Malfoy was up to. But he'd be damned before he'd let Malfoy use him as a scapegoat to clear his own name.
The cells at Azkaban sat empty. Without the dementors there was no certain way to detain prisoners for prolonged periods of time. Most trials happened almost immediately after arrests, and Interrogators for the Wizengamot weren't always present. Witches and wizards disappeared with alarming frequency, but it was war and those things happened; especially, the Wizarding World thought, when the opponent was Lord Voldemort.
Montague had no intention of dying so young. And, being the Slytherin he was, he had already formulated a plan to turn the tide against him.
-?-
Angelina stared at the scroll and picture in her hands in disbelief. The owl who'd delivered it was no where in sight; having taken off into the dark night after dropping the small package on her desk. The scroll merely read, "How much is your secret worth? Meet me in Knockturn Alley at 9PM. Do not be late."
The picture was even less innocuous. It showed a laughing Angelina sitting in Arthur Weasley's lap. From the decorations around the office in the photo, she knew it had been taken around Christmas time. She also remembered the necklace Arthur was placing around her neck. She wore it everyday under her robes. He had given it to her Christmas Eve, when they’d both been working late on a particularly challenging case. The entire floor had been abandoned except for them. How had anyone managed to take the picture without their knowledge?
The affair had only been going on for three months, and they were extremely careful not to let it show. They met very discreetly at inns or muggle hotels. The incident at Christmas, when the building had been entirely empty, had been the closest they'd ever some to flaunting their relationship publicly. Molly's death was still too recent, and Angelina liked the Weasleys enough that she didn't want to inflict any pain on the surviving Weasley children.
Working closely with Arthur these past few years, however, had lent her a new respect and a new opinion of him. Although he was certainly old enough to be her father, Angelina had to admit that there was something to his absent mindedness and boyishness that drew her to him. And lately his grief had made her own heart hurt until all she'd wanted to do was comfort him.
But a meeting for a drink in a respectable pub had led to drinks in her flat the next night and a few hours later she was lying awake in bed, listening to his soft snores in her ears. She knew Arthur had probably only meant it to be a one night fling, and he'd seemed apologetic the next day. He carefully avoided her eyes for a week until she invited him back over for drinks. Before she knew it, it had been a weekly ritual. Every Wednesday, just like clockwork.
She supposed that Arthur might want to know of this, but with the war at its height, he was so preoccupied with work that he frequently ended up sleeping in his office. Finally she decided that the best course of action would be to handle it herself.
Angelina stayed late at work that night, finishing up paper work and tidying reports for the event that she never returned and a new person took over her job.
-?-
Knockturn Alley was exactly like he'd remembered it. As dark and dreary as before the war. Perhaps the only difference was an increased flow of shady characters. But that had been Montague's reason behind choosing this as their meeting place. In his dark cloak he looked like any other wizard scurrying along the line of shops.
He only noticed Angelina because of the way she paused every few steps and looked around, as if expecting to be accosted. Montague almost smiled. Just for the laugh, he ducked into a dark shop entrance and reached out to grab Angelina's shoulders and pulled her into the shadows. He clamped a hand against her mouth to muffle the inevitable scream. Naturally, however, Angelina simply bit his hand.
Gritting his teeth, Montague growled, "Be still if you know what's good for you!"
When she finally settled down, Montague moved his hand from her mouth to her robes. Resisting the urge to search her for weapons Montague knew she wouldn't have remembered to bring, he reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand. He was slipping the slim length of wood into his own robes when her elbow connected to his jaw and sent him reeling.
He recovered quickly and glared at her, wishing their location was better lit so that she could feel the full force of his stare. "That was a stupid thing to do. I have no qualms about releasing those photos to the Daily Prophet."
Pinning him with a glare of her own, Angelina replied, "Obviously you do, or else you wouldn't have set up this little "meeting." You need something from me."
Not bothering to deny it, Montague chuckled. "Still a clever witch, Johnson."
Angelina was suddenly very thankful for the darkness because it meant he didn't see her jaw drop. "Montague? You're the bastard blackmailing me?"
"Yes," he replied cheerfully as he took hold of her elbow and began walking. "And now that we no longer need introductions, let us retire for a nice pint of butter beer. Just like old times."
"Old times?" Angelina echoed. There were some "old times" between them, but drinking butter beer was not among her memories of her time with him.
Glancing down at her, Montague murmured, "Only if you're good."
-?-
They went to a pub on Knockturn Alley. It was as dark and seedy as the rest of the establishments lining the street. Montague chose a corner near the back and made sure to seat her against the wall furthest away from the door.
"How did you get those pictures?" Angelina asked as soon as Montague pushed a glass of butter beer in front of her.
He waved a hand dismissively at the question. "That's not really important. What is important is that you were right. I do need your help."
"Help? What could you possibly need help with? The last time anyone credible heard from you, you were evading arrest on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and overthrow the Ministry."
Montague leaned back against his chair. Angelina almost shivered as she felt his blue eyes move over her. "That's precisely what I require help for. The Ministry, to no surprise, is entirely wrong. I had no part in Dumbledore's murder, or in the attack on Hogwarts. You're going to help me clear my name, and in return I'll give you all the copies of those incriminating photographs."
"I don't see of what use I'd be to you," Angelina said with a frown. "I'm not an auror, and I don't work for the Magical Law Enforcement."
"I know. You work for Arthur Weasley. You aid in the arrests and executions of war profiteers. Well, war profiteers who aren't named Weasley," Montague sneered and his icy gaze turned even colder. "Tell me, Johnson, how does it feel to work for such a corrupt boss? But then, you're sleeping with him, so it must feel pretty good, huh?"
Livid, Angelina returned his sneer with a hot glare. "Who I sleep with isn't any of your damn business. And the Weasleys have suffered beyond naming during this war. I won't have you accusing any of them of corruption, do you hear me? I don't know where you've been this last year, where you've been hiding from the Dark Lord, but I do know that the Weasleys have given up everything to help defeat that monster!"
"Is that why you work for the Ministry, Johnson? Fighting the good fight? Trying to bring down the Dark Lord without actually having to confront him?"
She sneered at him this time. "Don't even try to tell me that you've been "confronting" the Dark Lord this last year. That I should take pity on you because of what a tough time you've had, you poor, ickle Death Eater."
"Save your pity, Johnson," he said harshly. "The only sympathy I want from you is in the form of you crawling into bed with me."
Angelina laughed. "We were seventeen and horny. It isn't a mistake I'm looking to repeat."
"As I remember," Montague said, glowering at her, "You liked making those mistakes. Liked it enough to come into the dungeons. Or was it just the cheap thrill? Is that what your affair with Weasley is? Breaking the rules because you're a Gryffindor and thus so morally superior that you've above us all?"
Taking a gulp of the butter beer, Angelina quipped, "Why so bitter, Monty?"
"Because I'm innocent! Because the Ministry is out for blood and it damn sure isn't going to be mine!"
"That brings us back to the question, then, of how exactly you think I'm going to be able to help you."
Reining his anger, Montague downed the rest of his butter beer. "You have access to the Ministry. Access to files and other resources I need to prove my innocence."
"You want me to steal a file?" Angelina asked incredulously. "Why not break in to get it? Or put someone under the Imperius Curse?"
"If you're questioning the rationality of my plan, don't. I have a flawless plan that will work so long as you cooperate and do everything you're told."
"And if I resist?"
"Those pictures make the front page and you can kiss good-bye to your reputation. Not to mention," he added with a fake pout, "What would the Weasleys think of you fucking their widowed father?"
Swallowing back a sharp remark, Angelina forced herself to ask calmly, "What files do you need?"
Happy at how quickly he'd been able to wrestle her into control, Montague replied, "I need one file in particular. It's guarded and I can't be sure where in the Ministry it's hidden. It contains testimonies and affidavits about what really happened that night. Normally those files would be open to the public, but since it's started on a stricter road of corruption, the only way to access the file would be to publicly announce my return and allow them to arrest me."
"Then why not just do that?"
Montague slanted a look at her that suggested she already knew the answer. "In the past eight months, how many people have been given a fair trial, in front of Interrogators and with the chance to call witnesses and present evidence?" When Angelina failed to answer, he pressed on. "If I was captured that file would disappear and I'd be executed before the day was out."
"How would you explain having the file?"
He smiled. "You can't expect me to give away all my secrets."
Angelina nodded. "So now what? I just bring you the file and you hand over the photographs?"
"I'll give you a week to find the file. The morning before I will send another owl with a time and location."
"Are you going to return my wand?"
Standing, Montague placed his hands on the table beside Angelina and leaned over her so that she was forced to tilt he head backwards to meet his eyes. "If you attempt to betray me, I will destroy you." Slipping her wand from his robes, he placed it on the table beside her numb fingers. "Sweet dreams."
-?-
Montague watched from a hidden alley as Angelina exited the pub. Her hood was pulled firmly over her head, hiding everything except her mouth. Forcing his thoughts away from bad memories of the past, Montague suddenly wished he hadn't given her a whole week. It was too long to wait. For the file and for her. But he'd spent months perfecting his plan, and he couldn't afford to deviate from it. He felt a twinge of guilt over what he had done, but he was ultimately convinced that in time he could persuade her to forgive him.
He was innocent, after all. And to a Gryffindor like her, that had to count for something.
-?-
The week passed in a blur for Angelina. One day bled into another, but to her it felt like no time passed. Arthur gave her many distracted, worried looks, but she barely noticed. In fact, she didn't even register the fact that Arthur hadn't shown up for their usual Wednesday night tryst, until the next morning. When Arthur stopped her to ask if everything was okay.
It wasn't. Everything was completely wrong. Montague had thrown her world into a loop, and she couldn't seem to make heads or tails of things. She'd been shocked to realize just how right he had been about the Ministry. It had been like pulling teeth to find the file, but once she’d ascertained its location, it had been appallingly easy to use Arthur’s status to get the file. Perhaps it had been a bit risky to use memory modifying charms, but Angelina didn't want any of this traced back to her.
Friday morning dawned with a dreary overcast, and it did nothing to lift her mood. She spent the day in nervous agitation until a small, brown owl delivered a note that gave instructions to a pub and lodging house deep in Knockturn Alley.
The day seemed to drag on forever, but when it ended she almost breathed a sigh of relief. Angelina was so consumed with the thought of giving Montague the file and getting him out of her life that she didn't notice as Arthur stalked behind her, following her to Montague.
-?-
Her destination was a small and dirty pub that hadn't appeared to have been swept since it had opened. Small torches adorned the walls, lending little light to the empty room. Behind the bar an old wizard spat into goblets and shined them with a ratty rag. Resisting the urge to gag, she pulled the edges of her cloak closer and prayed that nothing lived on the floor, waiting to attack her hem. The stairs squeaked and groaned as if they were about to collapse as she made her way to the chamber Montague had directed her to.
Montague was already waiting in the room when she entered. She took a second to note that a heavy film of dust covered the lone bed and desk that occupied the room. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it.
Hoping to keep conversation to a minimal, Angelina handed wordlessly handed him the file she had kept hidden under her robes.
He took the file from her and began examining each page. He looked them carefully, giving Angelina enough time to look over him. His hair, she noticed, was longer than it'd been at Hogwarts. It curled to his shoulders, and he kept it slicked back over his head, presenting all his features starkly. She also took note of the fact his robes seemed to be of a better quality than one would expect of a wizard on the run, but Angelina chalked it up to pureblood pride. And if she wasn't entirely mistaken, she thought she also smelled a faint hint of sandalwood.
Her first thought was that he'd dressed up for her, but she immediately dismissed the idea when his head snapped up to glare at her. "The last page, the most important page, it's missing."
"Insurance," Angelina said, and even to her own ears it sounded a bit breathless. She would not remember the feel of his hair against her hand; she chided herself, let alone his lips against her skin. But the one memory led to another and suddenly she wished the room was better ventilated.
Montague had only been partially right last night. Their fling had started as a cheap thrill, but as she'd gotten to know him, as he became Montague and not just a rival Quidditch captain and a Slytherin, Angelina had found that she liked him in spite of all of that. But she hadn't properly seen him since graduation, and hadn't actually interacted with him since before his accident at the hands of his twins. They'd had a stupid argument over who the best Quidditch player of all time was, and before they'd resolved it, the twins had played their trick.
She'd been too scared to visit him in the hospital. And she couldn't be sure if he even remembered her. Or would want to see her after what the twins had done. Then the war had started and there'd been little time to pick a side. She'd chosen the side she'd known in her heart was right, and Montague had disappeared from her life. And later her mind.
"Insurance," Montague repeated slowly, catching her attention. "May I ask against what?"
"The pictures. When you hand over the last of the pictures and swear that it's the last of them, I'll give you the last page."
Angelina thought he might have rolled his eyes, but the lighting was poor and she couldn't be sure. He reached into a pocket in his robes and produced a small packet tied up in string. He presented them to her in a mocking bow. "Your virtue is safe once more. Now hand over my page."
Having ascertained that the negatives were indeed her negatives, she tapped her wand against the packet and whispered, "Incendio!" before dropping it into the dormant fireplace.
Once Montague had the last page, he carefully tucked the file into his robes and gallantly held the door open. "Beauty first."
Angelina, however, had other ideas. "What's going to happen now?"
"Well I had intended to return to my real rooms, but if you'd rather we return to your flat--"
"That's not what I meant, Montague, and you know it."
Before he could reply, Arthur Weasley appeared in the door way, dust smudges on the shoulders of his robes.
Montague immediately levered his wand at Angelina's throat. "What's going on, Johnson?"
Arthur was a bit slower in raising his wand; his voice was steady as he said, "Montague! Let go of her at once!"
"How did you get here?"
"I followed Angelina. You'd best lower your wand now and come peacefully, or you'll regret the consequences."
"Very sloppy, Johnson," Montague said. "Had I been anyone else your lover here would already be dead. As it is, I have need of him."
He saw confusion enter her eyes as immediately as he saw her reach for her wand. "Weasley, take her wand."
Arthur removed her wand from her numb fingers and handed it to Montague, who carelessly threw it over his shoulder. It rolled until it hit the wall behind the desk. All the while Arthur was babbling an apology to her. But her there seemed to be an echo in her ears, and she couldn't quite get past the realization that Arthur was taking orders from Montague.
"Weasley, shut up." Montague commanded, and Arthur immediately quieted. Montague turned back to Angelina. "It was never you, Johnson."
"Arthur," Angelina whispered, tears clouding her vision. "All this time, it was Arthur."
Montague nodded cheerfully, his wand still pointed at her throat. "I've had him under the Imperius Curse for months now. Why else would he start up with you?" His eyes flicked over her, making her want to lash out at him in fury. "You're a good lay, Johnson, but the man had been happily married for decades. Besides, ask yourself how else I could've gotten the pictures."
"But why me? Why not have Arthur get you the file?"
"Because now I have leverage," he explained. "This file is good, but not enough own its own. You, my dear, are going to make sure I get cleared of everything, because if I don't, you'll face the Wizengamot for treason."
"And Arthur?" Angelina asked. "What'll happen to him?"
"He'll stay under the curse. And if you don't cooperate, he'll hang for treason as well."
Angelina laughed, and it was harsh, uneven sound. "All this to prove that you aren't a Death Eater. But how are you really any different? You've just destroyed two lives, and you probably also killed Molly."
"I'm only trying to end what the Weasley twins started years ago. I am not guilty of murder, nor did I participate in the attack on Hogwarts. Helping me helps yourself and Weasley without truly compromising any Gryffindor morals. I mean, other than cooperating with a Slytherin," he added with a smirk.
After several deep breaths to calm herself, Angelina finally replied, "Okay. I'll help you, but only if you agree to release Arthur after you're acquitted."
Montague stared at her with an unfathomable look in his eyes. "Do you really care for the old man?"
"Yes," she said, and didn't elaborate.
"Then after I modify his memory, you're going to quit your job at the Ministry, and you're going to finish our deal."
"I don't need to quit my job to testify for you. In fact I think it'd lend credibility to the story if I was still employed by the Ministry."
"You are going to marry me," Montague informed her pleasantly. "That will add all the credible air your testimony will need."
"You've planned this entire thing. You even have the small detailed arranged to your advantage," Angelina said in amazement as the full impact of the situation dawned on her.
"I'm not the villain here, Angelina. If you're bent on looking for one, ask yourself how the Ministry is any different from the Dark Lord these days.”
"And what would we do after you're cleared? Retire to the country? Tour the continent and wait for the war to end?"
"I'll make another deal with you, Johnson," Montague said, lowering his wand. "Give me six months after the trial to show you what I can be, and we'll go from there."
Angelina looked at Arthur, who stood in the corner, silent with a glazed look in his eyes. His red hair looked even duller in the dim light, and his face looked aged beyond his years.
She looked at Montague again. "How long have I been under the effects of a love potion?"
"I'd say since about November. I had him slip it into your coffee."
She nodded slowly. "And how did I manage to miss you slipping me one last week?"
"Oh, that was quite easy. I didn't."
Angelina stared at him in disbelief. "Of course you slipped me one. There's no other reason that I would-" But as she remembered her own reaction to him tonight, Angelina realized that he must be telling the truth. And that Montague was too clever to use a love potion that might be detected when she testified.
"Are you thinking of me naked?" Montague asked his eyes lit with laughter, interrupting her chain of thought.
It dawned on Angelina that not only had she slept with a Slytherin, but she was actually considering doing it again. Scowling, she said, "You're mental. Absolutely, without a doubt, mental."
"What've you got to lose by agreeing to the new deal?"
Glancing once more at Arthur, Angelina realized that she didn't have anything to lose by agreeing. And looking at Montague, who had actually been as tame as a duck aside from blackmailing her, Angelina thought that she had a good deal to gain.
"But why me?" She asked. "Why not anyone else who worked under Arthur?"
Montague shrugged. "I have my reasons."
"It's revenge. For what the twins did -"
"What if I said I just wanted you?" He said, interrupting her. "We were great together in Seventh Year. I could have loved you if our relationship had been able to last longer. Why couldn't you believe that?"
"Because you tricked me, used me," she choked out. "You violated me with that love potion. Made me sleep with my friends' father!"
"Okay, so I did. But think of it this way: you gave a grieving man a few months of happiness."
Angelina shook her head. "When did you become so sentimental?"
"I meant what I said. And I know you feel it too."
She opened her mouth to argue, but then stopped. He was right. As usual. "Okay," she said. "Six months."
Montague bent and retrieved her wand from under the desk. Angelina accepted it from him and slipped it into her pocket. Around them another cold wind swept through the corridor, making the torches sputter. Angelina tightened her cloak around herself and quietly followed Montague and Arthur from the chamber.
-END-
A/N:
- "The only sympathy I want from you is in the form of you crawling into bed with me" is a variation of a lyric from the FallOut Boy song, "Dance Dance."
- The title comes from the Nickelback song "Saving Me."
First, however, a word from our sponsors a note about how this 'fic came to be:
I started writing a couple of days after the accident, and in a few minutes I was staring at "The affair hadn't started until after Molly's death" and wondering how the hell I could get A/M from that. Then Monty sneaked in with his indignation at being wrongfully accused of murder, and suddenly it occurred to me the lengths he'd go to to clear his name.
I was very happy with the twists I came up with, but also very worried that I wouldn't pull it off right. redcandle17 can avow to the number of times I made her read and re-read scenes for consistency. But I can now say that I'm actually very happy with how this 'fic turned out, and I'm thrilled that luckybrans liked it, because I consider her the patron saint of the ship, and I was very worried it wouldn't be worthy of her.
Anyway, even if you commented at overcomingrvlry, I'd appreciate comments here just so I can have them in my memories!
Title: I'll Show You What I Can Be
Author: juju_bean
Rating PG-13 for themes and language
Pairings: Angelina/Arthur, Angelina/Montague
Summary: Hunted by the Ministry on charges of murder, Montague will do anything to clear his name... even if it means blackmailing an old girlfriend.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters were created by JK Rowling and are copyrighted to their rightful owners. There is no copyright infringement intended.
-?
Angelina Johnson never thought that she'd work in an office. She'd loved Quidditch so much in school that she couldn't have ever imagined a future without it. It wasn't the fame that she wanted; it was the freedom of flying. The exhilaration of doing something she loved for the rest of her life.
But then school had ended, and the Second War had begun in earnest. No one had time for Quidditch; they were all too busy trying to stay alive. Trying to defeat a monster and his minions bent on enslaving both the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds.
She was lucky to have landed even a job at the Ministry. With the War raging, everyone was looking for measures of security. The Ministry, as unreliable as it had proved to be in the past, shone like a beacon of hope for the Wizarding world. With Harry Potter in hiding, possibly even dead, people needed something to pin their hopes on. So they turned to the Ministry, looking to Rufus Scrimgeour to lead them through it. And, to the surprise of many skeptics, the new Minister of Magic had proved competent enough. He had tightened the Ministry, cutting away departments and offices that seemed superfluous. Leaks had cost lives in the last war, and they couldn't afford that this time.
Strangely enough, Arthur Weasley's new office, the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Object, had proved itself to be incredibly useful. In the two years that it had been around, the office had made innumerous arrests of war profiteers who sold fake products and false hope, and had even exposed a Death Eater or two.
She had, of course, landed the job because of her connection to Arthur's sons. Angelina and the Weasley twins had all been in Gryffindor, had played on the same Quidditch team. She had even briefly dated Fred. After Hogwarts, however, they had each gone their separate ways. The Weasley twins had founded their own joke shop, and Angelina, against the better wishes of her parents, had rented a flat in London and gone to work as a paper pusher.
Angelina supposed it would've been measurably exciting to be more active in the office, going out on raids and making arrests, but after a year of working for Arthur, she found that she rather liked the quiet part of working behind the scenes.
Before her first year was up, she was promoted to Arthur's assistant.
It was a big promotion, and one that set tongues talking all around the Ministry. Rumors surfaced, but none of them carried any truth. The affair hadn't started until after Molly's death.
-?-
If they found him, he was dead.
Montague had always thought himself a likable fellow. Certainly his fellow Slytherins had never had any trouble getting on with him in the seven years that he had attended Hogwarts. That cordiality, however, didn't seem to extend to the Wizarding World.
But then, after the attack on Hogwarts, after Dumbledore's death and Harry Potter's subsequent disappearance, the Ministry of Magic was out of blood, and it didn't particularly care whether or not the blood was innocent. As long as the person could be tied to the Slytherins, and by association the Dark Lord, the Ministry was looking to kill someone. Their victim, should he be a widely known Death Eater, would be a trophy, and a monument to Scrimgeour's ability to lead the Wizarding World out of this war.
Of course, Montague himself hadn't even known he was an infamous Death Eater until wanted posters began showing up, even in Muggle towns, offering a reward for his capture. Montague hadn't been in the group that had entered Hogwarts that night, but somehow his involvement in the scheme to breach the castle had leaked out. These days people fed on gossip like it was a life-sustaining substance, and over the last two years the facts of what had happened the night of Dumbledore's death didn't even resemble the truth of what had happened. And before Montague knew it, people placed him as one of the Death Eaters not only present at Dumbledore's murder, but also one of the Death Eaters instrumental to the conspiracy to invade Hogwarts.
It had taken over a year, but Montague had finally found a way to clear himself. He knew he wasn't entirely innocent, but there was no chance in hell that he was going to let himself die for Draco Malfoy; because he was certain that was what the little ferret had in mind. Rumors had recently begun to circulate about Potter's disappearance, and what the Boy Who Lived was really up to. And in the rumors Potter's name became linked with Malfoy's with more and more frequency. Having been a Slytherin himself, Montague had a pretty good idea of what Malfoy was up to. But he'd be damned before he'd let Malfoy use him as a scapegoat to clear his own name.
The cells at Azkaban sat empty. Without the dementors there was no certain way to detain prisoners for prolonged periods of time. Most trials happened almost immediately after arrests, and Interrogators for the Wizengamot weren't always present. Witches and wizards disappeared with alarming frequency, but it was war and those things happened; especially, the Wizarding World thought, when the opponent was Lord Voldemort.
Montague had no intention of dying so young. And, being the Slytherin he was, he had already formulated a plan to turn the tide against him.
-?-
Angelina stared at the scroll and picture in her hands in disbelief. The owl who'd delivered it was no where in sight; having taken off into the dark night after dropping the small package on her desk. The scroll merely read, "How much is your secret worth? Meet me in Knockturn Alley at 9PM. Do not be late."
The picture was even less innocuous. It showed a laughing Angelina sitting in Arthur Weasley's lap. From the decorations around the office in the photo, she knew it had been taken around Christmas time. She also remembered the necklace Arthur was placing around her neck. She wore it everyday under her robes. He had given it to her Christmas Eve, when they’d both been working late on a particularly challenging case. The entire floor had been abandoned except for them. How had anyone managed to take the picture without their knowledge?
The affair had only been going on for three months, and they were extremely careful not to let it show. They met very discreetly at inns or muggle hotels. The incident at Christmas, when the building had been entirely empty, had been the closest they'd ever some to flaunting their relationship publicly. Molly's death was still too recent, and Angelina liked the Weasleys enough that she didn't want to inflict any pain on the surviving Weasley children.
Working closely with Arthur these past few years, however, had lent her a new respect and a new opinion of him. Although he was certainly old enough to be her father, Angelina had to admit that there was something to his absent mindedness and boyishness that drew her to him. And lately his grief had made her own heart hurt until all she'd wanted to do was comfort him.
But a meeting for a drink in a respectable pub had led to drinks in her flat the next night and a few hours later she was lying awake in bed, listening to his soft snores in her ears. She knew Arthur had probably only meant it to be a one night fling, and he'd seemed apologetic the next day. He carefully avoided her eyes for a week until she invited him back over for drinks. Before she knew it, it had been a weekly ritual. Every Wednesday, just like clockwork.
She supposed that Arthur might want to know of this, but with the war at its height, he was so preoccupied with work that he frequently ended up sleeping in his office. Finally she decided that the best course of action would be to handle it herself.
Angelina stayed late at work that night, finishing up paper work and tidying reports for the event that she never returned and a new person took over her job.
-?-
Knockturn Alley was exactly like he'd remembered it. As dark and dreary as before the war. Perhaps the only difference was an increased flow of shady characters. But that had been Montague's reason behind choosing this as their meeting place. In his dark cloak he looked like any other wizard scurrying along the line of shops.
He only noticed Angelina because of the way she paused every few steps and looked around, as if expecting to be accosted. Montague almost smiled. Just for the laugh, he ducked into a dark shop entrance and reached out to grab Angelina's shoulders and pulled her into the shadows. He clamped a hand against her mouth to muffle the inevitable scream. Naturally, however, Angelina simply bit his hand.
Gritting his teeth, Montague growled, "Be still if you know what's good for you!"
When she finally settled down, Montague moved his hand from her mouth to her robes. Resisting the urge to search her for weapons Montague knew she wouldn't have remembered to bring, he reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand. He was slipping the slim length of wood into his own robes when her elbow connected to his jaw and sent him reeling.
He recovered quickly and glared at her, wishing their location was better lit so that she could feel the full force of his stare. "That was a stupid thing to do. I have no qualms about releasing those photos to the Daily Prophet."
Pinning him with a glare of her own, Angelina replied, "Obviously you do, or else you wouldn't have set up this little "meeting." You need something from me."
Not bothering to deny it, Montague chuckled. "Still a clever witch, Johnson."
Angelina was suddenly very thankful for the darkness because it meant he didn't see her jaw drop. "Montague? You're the bastard blackmailing me?"
"Yes," he replied cheerfully as he took hold of her elbow and began walking. "And now that we no longer need introductions, let us retire for a nice pint of butter beer. Just like old times."
"Old times?" Angelina echoed. There were some "old times" between them, but drinking butter beer was not among her memories of her time with him.
Glancing down at her, Montague murmured, "Only if you're good."
-?-
They went to a pub on Knockturn Alley. It was as dark and seedy as the rest of the establishments lining the street. Montague chose a corner near the back and made sure to seat her against the wall furthest away from the door.
"How did you get those pictures?" Angelina asked as soon as Montague pushed a glass of butter beer in front of her.
He waved a hand dismissively at the question. "That's not really important. What is important is that you were right. I do need your help."
"Help? What could you possibly need help with? The last time anyone credible heard from you, you were evading arrest on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and overthrow the Ministry."
Montague leaned back against his chair. Angelina almost shivered as she felt his blue eyes move over her. "That's precisely what I require help for. The Ministry, to no surprise, is entirely wrong. I had no part in Dumbledore's murder, or in the attack on Hogwarts. You're going to help me clear my name, and in return I'll give you all the copies of those incriminating photographs."
"I don't see of what use I'd be to you," Angelina said with a frown. "I'm not an auror, and I don't work for the Magical Law Enforcement."
"I know. You work for Arthur Weasley. You aid in the arrests and executions of war profiteers. Well, war profiteers who aren't named Weasley," Montague sneered and his icy gaze turned even colder. "Tell me, Johnson, how does it feel to work for such a corrupt boss? But then, you're sleeping with him, so it must feel pretty good, huh?"
Livid, Angelina returned his sneer with a hot glare. "Who I sleep with isn't any of your damn business. And the Weasleys have suffered beyond naming during this war. I won't have you accusing any of them of corruption, do you hear me? I don't know where you've been this last year, where you've been hiding from the Dark Lord, but I do know that the Weasleys have given up everything to help defeat that monster!"
"Is that why you work for the Ministry, Johnson? Fighting the good fight? Trying to bring down the Dark Lord without actually having to confront him?"
She sneered at him this time. "Don't even try to tell me that you've been "confronting" the Dark Lord this last year. That I should take pity on you because of what a tough time you've had, you poor, ickle Death Eater."
"Save your pity, Johnson," he said harshly. "The only sympathy I want from you is in the form of you crawling into bed with me."
Angelina laughed. "We were seventeen and horny. It isn't a mistake I'm looking to repeat."
"As I remember," Montague said, glowering at her, "You liked making those mistakes. Liked it enough to come into the dungeons. Or was it just the cheap thrill? Is that what your affair with Weasley is? Breaking the rules because you're a Gryffindor and thus so morally superior that you've above us all?"
Taking a gulp of the butter beer, Angelina quipped, "Why so bitter, Monty?"
"Because I'm innocent! Because the Ministry is out for blood and it damn sure isn't going to be mine!"
"That brings us back to the question, then, of how exactly you think I'm going to be able to help you."
Reining his anger, Montague downed the rest of his butter beer. "You have access to the Ministry. Access to files and other resources I need to prove my innocence."
"You want me to steal a file?" Angelina asked incredulously. "Why not break in to get it? Or put someone under the Imperius Curse?"
"If you're questioning the rationality of my plan, don't. I have a flawless plan that will work so long as you cooperate and do everything you're told."
"And if I resist?"
"Those pictures make the front page and you can kiss good-bye to your reputation. Not to mention," he added with a fake pout, "What would the Weasleys think of you fucking their widowed father?"
Swallowing back a sharp remark, Angelina forced herself to ask calmly, "What files do you need?"
Happy at how quickly he'd been able to wrestle her into control, Montague replied, "I need one file in particular. It's guarded and I can't be sure where in the Ministry it's hidden. It contains testimonies and affidavits about what really happened that night. Normally those files would be open to the public, but since it's started on a stricter road of corruption, the only way to access the file would be to publicly announce my return and allow them to arrest me."
"Then why not just do that?"
Montague slanted a look at her that suggested she already knew the answer. "In the past eight months, how many people have been given a fair trial, in front of Interrogators and with the chance to call witnesses and present evidence?" When Angelina failed to answer, he pressed on. "If I was captured that file would disappear and I'd be executed before the day was out."
"How would you explain having the file?"
He smiled. "You can't expect me to give away all my secrets."
Angelina nodded. "So now what? I just bring you the file and you hand over the photographs?"
"I'll give you a week to find the file. The morning before I will send another owl with a time and location."
"Are you going to return my wand?"
Standing, Montague placed his hands on the table beside Angelina and leaned over her so that she was forced to tilt he head backwards to meet his eyes. "If you attempt to betray me, I will destroy you." Slipping her wand from his robes, he placed it on the table beside her numb fingers. "Sweet dreams."
-?-
Montague watched from a hidden alley as Angelina exited the pub. Her hood was pulled firmly over her head, hiding everything except her mouth. Forcing his thoughts away from bad memories of the past, Montague suddenly wished he hadn't given her a whole week. It was too long to wait. For the file and for her. But he'd spent months perfecting his plan, and he couldn't afford to deviate from it. He felt a twinge of guilt over what he had done, but he was ultimately convinced that in time he could persuade her to forgive him.
He was innocent, after all. And to a Gryffindor like her, that had to count for something.
-?-
The week passed in a blur for Angelina. One day bled into another, but to her it felt like no time passed. Arthur gave her many distracted, worried looks, but she barely noticed. In fact, she didn't even register the fact that Arthur hadn't shown up for their usual Wednesday night tryst, until the next morning. When Arthur stopped her to ask if everything was okay.
It wasn't. Everything was completely wrong. Montague had thrown her world into a loop, and she couldn't seem to make heads or tails of things. She'd been shocked to realize just how right he had been about the Ministry. It had been like pulling teeth to find the file, but once she’d ascertained its location, it had been appallingly easy to use Arthur’s status to get the file. Perhaps it had been a bit risky to use memory modifying charms, but Angelina didn't want any of this traced back to her.
Friday morning dawned with a dreary overcast, and it did nothing to lift her mood. She spent the day in nervous agitation until a small, brown owl delivered a note that gave instructions to a pub and lodging house deep in Knockturn Alley.
The day seemed to drag on forever, but when it ended she almost breathed a sigh of relief. Angelina was so consumed with the thought of giving Montague the file and getting him out of her life that she didn't notice as Arthur stalked behind her, following her to Montague.
-?-
Her destination was a small and dirty pub that hadn't appeared to have been swept since it had opened. Small torches adorned the walls, lending little light to the empty room. Behind the bar an old wizard spat into goblets and shined them with a ratty rag. Resisting the urge to gag, she pulled the edges of her cloak closer and prayed that nothing lived on the floor, waiting to attack her hem. The stairs squeaked and groaned as if they were about to collapse as she made her way to the chamber Montague had directed her to.
Montague was already waiting in the room when she entered. She took a second to note that a heavy film of dust covered the lone bed and desk that occupied the room. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it.
Hoping to keep conversation to a minimal, Angelina handed wordlessly handed him the file she had kept hidden under her robes.
He took the file from her and began examining each page. He looked them carefully, giving Angelina enough time to look over him. His hair, she noticed, was longer than it'd been at Hogwarts. It curled to his shoulders, and he kept it slicked back over his head, presenting all his features starkly. She also took note of the fact his robes seemed to be of a better quality than one would expect of a wizard on the run, but Angelina chalked it up to pureblood pride. And if she wasn't entirely mistaken, she thought she also smelled a faint hint of sandalwood.
Her first thought was that he'd dressed up for her, but she immediately dismissed the idea when his head snapped up to glare at her. "The last page, the most important page, it's missing."
"Insurance," Angelina said, and even to her own ears it sounded a bit breathless. She would not remember the feel of his hair against her hand; she chided herself, let alone his lips against her skin. But the one memory led to another and suddenly she wished the room was better ventilated.
Montague had only been partially right last night. Their fling had started as a cheap thrill, but as she'd gotten to know him, as he became Montague and not just a rival Quidditch captain and a Slytherin, Angelina had found that she liked him in spite of all of that. But she hadn't properly seen him since graduation, and hadn't actually interacted with him since before his accident at the hands of his twins. They'd had a stupid argument over who the best Quidditch player of all time was, and before they'd resolved it, the twins had played their trick.
She'd been too scared to visit him in the hospital. And she couldn't be sure if he even remembered her. Or would want to see her after what the twins had done. Then the war had started and there'd been little time to pick a side. She'd chosen the side she'd known in her heart was right, and Montague had disappeared from her life. And later her mind.
"Insurance," Montague repeated slowly, catching her attention. "May I ask against what?"
"The pictures. When you hand over the last of the pictures and swear that it's the last of them, I'll give you the last page."
Angelina thought he might have rolled his eyes, but the lighting was poor and she couldn't be sure. He reached into a pocket in his robes and produced a small packet tied up in string. He presented them to her in a mocking bow. "Your virtue is safe once more. Now hand over my page."
Having ascertained that the negatives were indeed her negatives, she tapped her wand against the packet and whispered, "Incendio!" before dropping it into the dormant fireplace.
Once Montague had the last page, he carefully tucked the file into his robes and gallantly held the door open. "Beauty first."
Angelina, however, had other ideas. "What's going to happen now?"
"Well I had intended to return to my real rooms, but if you'd rather we return to your flat--"
"That's not what I meant, Montague, and you know it."
Before he could reply, Arthur Weasley appeared in the door way, dust smudges on the shoulders of his robes.
Montague immediately levered his wand at Angelina's throat. "What's going on, Johnson?"
Arthur was a bit slower in raising his wand; his voice was steady as he said, "Montague! Let go of her at once!"
"How did you get here?"
"I followed Angelina. You'd best lower your wand now and come peacefully, or you'll regret the consequences."
"Very sloppy, Johnson," Montague said. "Had I been anyone else your lover here would already be dead. As it is, I have need of him."
He saw confusion enter her eyes as immediately as he saw her reach for her wand. "Weasley, take her wand."
Arthur removed her wand from her numb fingers and handed it to Montague, who carelessly threw it over his shoulder. It rolled until it hit the wall behind the desk. All the while Arthur was babbling an apology to her. But her there seemed to be an echo in her ears, and she couldn't quite get past the realization that Arthur was taking orders from Montague.
"Weasley, shut up." Montague commanded, and Arthur immediately quieted. Montague turned back to Angelina. "It was never you, Johnson."
"Arthur," Angelina whispered, tears clouding her vision. "All this time, it was Arthur."
Montague nodded cheerfully, his wand still pointed at her throat. "I've had him under the Imperius Curse for months now. Why else would he start up with you?" His eyes flicked over her, making her want to lash out at him in fury. "You're a good lay, Johnson, but the man had been happily married for decades. Besides, ask yourself how else I could've gotten the pictures."
"But why me? Why not have Arthur get you the file?"
"Because now I have leverage," he explained. "This file is good, but not enough own its own. You, my dear, are going to make sure I get cleared of everything, because if I don't, you'll face the Wizengamot for treason."
"And Arthur?" Angelina asked. "What'll happen to him?"
"He'll stay under the curse. And if you don't cooperate, he'll hang for treason as well."
Angelina laughed, and it was harsh, uneven sound. "All this to prove that you aren't a Death Eater. But how are you really any different? You've just destroyed two lives, and you probably also killed Molly."
"I'm only trying to end what the Weasley twins started years ago. I am not guilty of murder, nor did I participate in the attack on Hogwarts. Helping me helps yourself and Weasley without truly compromising any Gryffindor morals. I mean, other than cooperating with a Slytherin," he added with a smirk.
After several deep breaths to calm herself, Angelina finally replied, "Okay. I'll help you, but only if you agree to release Arthur after you're acquitted."
Montague stared at her with an unfathomable look in his eyes. "Do you really care for the old man?"
"Yes," she said, and didn't elaborate.
"Then after I modify his memory, you're going to quit your job at the Ministry, and you're going to finish our deal."
"I don't need to quit my job to testify for you. In fact I think it'd lend credibility to the story if I was still employed by the Ministry."
"You are going to marry me," Montague informed her pleasantly. "That will add all the credible air your testimony will need."
"You've planned this entire thing. You even have the small detailed arranged to your advantage," Angelina said in amazement as the full impact of the situation dawned on her.
"I'm not the villain here, Angelina. If you're bent on looking for one, ask yourself how the Ministry is any different from the Dark Lord these days.”
"And what would we do after you're cleared? Retire to the country? Tour the continent and wait for the war to end?"
"I'll make another deal with you, Johnson," Montague said, lowering his wand. "Give me six months after the trial to show you what I can be, and we'll go from there."
Angelina looked at Arthur, who stood in the corner, silent with a glazed look in his eyes. His red hair looked even duller in the dim light, and his face looked aged beyond his years.
She looked at Montague again. "How long have I been under the effects of a love potion?"
"I'd say since about November. I had him slip it into your coffee."
She nodded slowly. "And how did I manage to miss you slipping me one last week?"
"Oh, that was quite easy. I didn't."
Angelina stared at him in disbelief. "Of course you slipped me one. There's no other reason that I would-" But as she remembered her own reaction to him tonight, Angelina realized that he must be telling the truth. And that Montague was too clever to use a love potion that might be detected when she testified.
"Are you thinking of me naked?" Montague asked his eyes lit with laughter, interrupting her chain of thought.
It dawned on Angelina that not only had she slept with a Slytherin, but she was actually considering doing it again. Scowling, she said, "You're mental. Absolutely, without a doubt, mental."
"What've you got to lose by agreeing to the new deal?"
Glancing once more at Arthur, Angelina realized that she didn't have anything to lose by agreeing. And looking at Montague, who had actually been as tame as a duck aside from blackmailing her, Angelina thought that she had a good deal to gain.
"But why me?" She asked. "Why not anyone else who worked under Arthur?"
Montague shrugged. "I have my reasons."
"It's revenge. For what the twins did -"
"What if I said I just wanted you?" He said, interrupting her. "We were great together in Seventh Year. I could have loved you if our relationship had been able to last longer. Why couldn't you believe that?"
"Because you tricked me, used me," she choked out. "You violated me with that love potion. Made me sleep with my friends' father!"
"Okay, so I did. But think of it this way: you gave a grieving man a few months of happiness."
Angelina shook her head. "When did you become so sentimental?"
"I meant what I said. And I know you feel it too."
She opened her mouth to argue, but then stopped. He was right. As usual. "Okay," she said. "Six months."
Montague bent and retrieved her wand from under the desk. Angelina accepted it from him and slipped it into her pocket. Around them another cold wind swept through the corridor, making the torches sputter. Angelina tightened her cloak around herself and quietly followed Montague and Arthur from the chamber.
-END-
A/N:
- "The only sympathy I want from you is in the form of you crawling into bed with me" is a variation of a lyric from the FallOut Boy song, "Dance Dance."
- The title comes from the Nickelback song "Saving Me."