Everybody Wants to Rule the World: 1/3
Author: mozarts_piano
Title: Everybody Wants to Rule the World
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 26, 250
Pairing(s): Teddy/James
Warnings: substance abuse, heavy swearing, power abuse, roughsex, rape, torture, character death
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Power was worth it. He could lie and cheat and steal but if he was at the top, if he hit the roof of the hierarchy, then everything was worth it in the end.
Prompt: 55.
Author's Note: Quick thanks to my beta LikeAVision for unwavering support even if she couldn't' help through some tough spots, Oscar Peterson for his gorgeous piano skills, and the strange German soap opera I watched every time I got writer's block. I owe you all.
*This was written for a fest over at nextgendarkfest*
Welcome to your life
There's no turning back
Even while we sleep
We will find you
Acting on your best behaviour
Turn your back on mother nature
Everybody wants to rule the world
-Tears for Fears
There was a room in the Department of Mysteries that monitored dreams. Night after night the room would play host to three men, all dressed in dark blue robes, who watched as the dreams of all the wizards in Britain flashed by on screens. These men had only one job, analyze the tales and make sure no one was dreaming too big, make sure there wasn't a Voldemort with cunning plans in our midst. They bottled the good ones and the bad, making it impossible for the people to remember the dreams in the morning. Stacks of vials sat in shelves next to the room with the brains, filled to the brim with people's aspirations, their deepest desires and strangest fantasies.
It was here that Teddy Lupin lived his second life.
It was also here that Teddy Lupin began to lay the foundations for his third.
-.-
Teddy had wanted to be an Unspeakable since the day his godfather took him down to the Department of Mysteries to show him the prophecy room. He'd only been 13 at the time, a child desperate for information about the Great War, but the epiphany came just the same. He wanted to do this, work under cover and understand strange things that no one else would be able to comprehend.
He'd made plans, doing great work in all his classes, just like Remus, all the teachers would say. He was proud of his dad, his godfather and his mum. Teddy worked through Hogwarts, the top of his class for years, friends coming and going.
After graduating from school he did accomplish it, 23 and eager, and began to work at one of the most compelling jobs in the Ministry. After hearing the stories of Harry Potter's journey he had wanted to work in the prophecy room -where it all started for him- but instead was sent to work with dreams.
Now, after years of training, he could control a person's dream easily, could make a man in Liverpool stop thinking about elephants and start dreaming about the next Arrows match instead, all from his office in London. He adored dreams, loved the obscurity of them, the variety of nightmares and the truth behind R.E.M. His mind was filled with other people's stories, tapping into a woman's fantasy proposal, allowing a boy's football championship to rule his world. Teddy did his job well, could be engrossed without attachment, could have other priorities and still get to work on time.
James would always ask how he did it; how he managed to schedule his life around his job instead of the other way around. Teddy would just laugh at him, tease about his Auror training, make them breakfast in their tiny flat, kiss him on the nose and go back to sleep.
They'd been dating for a little over a year, but had been best friends for much of Teddy's life. There wasn't a person Teddy liked spending time with more than James and every morning they could be seen entering their apartment, often at the same time, and spending the day sleeping and eating, before jetting off to work as the sun sank below the horizon.
Their dates were almost always at lunch; unless it was the weekend. Uncharted and broad, their weekends gave a whole new definition for magical. They were perfectly suited for one another; James with his bravery and kindness, Teddy with his intelligence and patience. The flat they lived in was small, the acceptance for them being together even smaller, but they managed to live life with everything that was thrown at them.
He was 29 years old, had a good job and was in love with a man who loved him back equally.
Life was good.
-.-
She'd have given her life up for the stuff.
And in a way, she did.
It was overwhelming really, the strength, the goodness she felt as she tipped her head back, felt the burn on her tongue, down her throat, in her brain. It trickled through her and made her feel like she was floating; the dream took her by her hands and threw her to the wind.
It was absolutely incredible and terrifying at the same time.
Like being in love - but she didn't want to think about that because she was over her, completely over that slut who was all talk and no commitment. It didn't matter if she had nothing left, nothing and no one.
This was the only important thing now.
-.-
It could have happened while he was walking to work. It could have appeared in one of his listless nights, in the cool space on the other side of the pillow, in the maze of freckles between James's shoulder blades.
It could have happened anywhere, but it ended up happening as Teddy watched countless dreams flash by his eyes, one night at work. He'd been eating Thai food, his favourite type of takeout, when a sudden notion sprung up in his brain. Teddy wasn't rich; he made slightly more than minimum wage in a job that took a lot out of a person. James wasn't making hardly anything at all, as a brand new Auror in his field. There were millions of plans they had made: start up a book store, rent a cabin for a weekend, cross America on a motorbike, swim the Channel without any spells. They had aspirations and hopes, things they could write down and promise to each other.
They had all of these things, but with no means of doing them.
And that's why, on a cold day in September, with wind howling thousands of feet above him, Teddy Lupin came to a conclusion about money.
He needed some.
-.-
Arty Turnsing died on a cold, wet day.
He was found in a dumpster by a couple of his friends from the soup kitchen. A few of them were devastated; Kim in particular as he'd known him the longest. Most were repulsed by the state of his clothes. No one was surprised.
He had been one of the oldest on the block, nearly forty years old. He'd started out with Gillyweed, like most kids do, but this was just to be a gateway drug as he started taking potions, knock-off Felix Felicis cut with some Pepperup Potion. He then dabbled in some Muggle substances, before finally setting on the one he died with, a tiny glass vial by his side.
His friends, while going through his clothes for any spare change - or drugs if they got lucky - could only remark on one thing: it was amazing he lived as long as he did.
-.-
Teddy liked his co-workers far better than he liked his job. They weren't always straight shooters, and tended to give him a hard time about him being with another man, but made the long nights bearable, drinking all sorts of bizarre Muggle drinks like cream soda and root beer. They were all rogues by some means, sent here after trying to get into something useful, like finding out the mysteries of magic instead of surveillance duty every night. But it was because of this that they all got along: they all knew they were at the bottom of the chain, but they have rather been sitting there than out on the streets.
It's a harsh life but at least we've got a pot to piss in, eh? Denver, a close mate of Teddy's, liked to say. It was true that the economy had fallen years before, and jobs were pretty scarce now, what with people living longer and no manmade plague (like war) to kill them off. Someone in the office was constantly complaining about the lack of crime rate, talking about how the Death Eaters were all sorts of evil, but at least they had an economy to be killers in. Teddy, the son of war heroes, didn't know if he agreed with that, but he could attest to the lack of activity happening anywhere through James.
Those cold nights, watching screen after screen show people's deep, subconscious thoughts, there was only one thing that kept Teddy going: The stories they told were excellent.
His mate Daniel was always mentioning his mum, how she insisted on making his lunch even though he was 39, married and had 2 kids. He liked to talk about this one time when she insisted on choosing his clothes for his first day on the job, and he ended up half hour late because he was too busy arguing to his mum that no, he didn't need new robes.
Stan had problems with the women, and always ended his latest rejection stories with some comment to Teddy about skipping out on girls and taking on blokes for a bit. He even said, every once and a while when he was properly intoxicated, how he wouldn't mind borrowing James for the night, but that statement always ended quick, with a punch to the shoulder, arm or groin, from Teddy.
Denver was full of proverbs and funny jokes he had heard. He was by far the oldest, nearly fifty years old, but he could party with the best of them and always had a quick story to tell about various things he'd done over the years.
The last of them, Benny, a man who was always far away for comfort, frequently mentioned how he'd been trying to get away from this bird for months, and the only reason they weren't ialready/imarried was because he had no goddamn money. Of course Benny wasn't exactly the most honest type and probably blew it all on the afternoon hookers or drugs in Knockturn Alley, swallowing and snorting and fucking away his Sickles.
They weren't much. But they were as close to family as Teddy had after he'd been thrown out of the Potter's house along with James, damned for their relationship.
Looking back later in life Teddy wondered if Benny had been the sole reason behind everything he did, or if he'd just been the final push.
-.-
Arnold Grievings and his wife Anita were just heading down the Muggle streets by the Leaky Cauldron when it happened. Arnold was holding a large coat rack over one shoulder, saying quick sorrys to anyone he passed on the nearly empty street. In his other hand was his wife's hand. They were married eight months at this point, both eager and fresh eyed, with a helpful smile to assist.
So when they heard the woman groaning in the alley it was only natural for Arnold to immediately drop the rack, head in to the alleyway first and crouch beside the horrendous woman. With Anita next to him they both tried to speak to the lady but she was garbling, not able to put word in sentence.
A loud crash came out of nowhere and in the next second two tall, gangly, wild eyed wizard had appeared, shoving Arnold against the wall and covering his mouth, intent on his galleons and the pretty woman next to him.
Arnold could only hear the shrieks of his beautiful wife as she was violated, pleading beyond herself as they raped her. The old woman who had once seemed lame scrambled over his immoveable body, taking all his money and racing down the street quickly.
Over his wife's dying screams he heard the fragile wench muttering, saying words beyond his comprehension -need it, fix, need to sleep, sweet dreams, sweet dreams-
Arnold blacked out and didn't wake until the next morning when he found himself on a stretcher, quickly being taken away from the alleyway, where a zipped up bag held Anita Grieving's dead body.
-.-
Teddy usually worked the 21:45 to 6:10 shifts, Monday to Friday. James worked the same as him, patrolling the empty wizarding streets of London on a good day, and making sure the Ministry was safe while filling reports on a bad one.
Every other Tuesday was a day off for him however, so Teddy, on this particular Tuesday, walked James to work, chatting and laughing before a short kiss next to the phone booth. Teddy then set off to a pulsing club right near the Leaky Cauldron, where Stan was waiting for him, the only co-worker who got the same night off. They didn't always get along but Teddy was pretty short on friends. The ones he'd made at Hogwarts were either living the dream or regular Joes, terrified of his chosen life - the decision to leave a fucking goddess for her skinny, freckled cousin - and they judged too quick.
Even if Stan was an ass sometimes, all talk and no commitment, he at least always thought James was a good feature to Teddy's life. Maybe just a bit too much.
"I'm just saying Ted," Stan yelled over the loud music of the club, sucking down his fourth glass of whiskey "your boyfriends pretty fit! If he's ever interested in some threesome shit with me and this tight little bird I met the other day-"
"We're fine thanks!" Teddy yelled back, rolling his eyes. It took far too early for Stan to become drunk.
"Must be something though, eh?" Stan laughed loudly, competing with the music, "Pushing inside the same arse Harry fucking Potter spanked when he was a kid! What the fuck's that like?"
"Stan. Leave my personal shit alone, yeh?" Teddy wasn't really angry, just amazed at how many boundaries Stan would leap over that night.
"Such a pretty one though. You're fucking lucky, eh? I wouldn't mind going fairy for him. Nicest body, tight arse, yeh? Although I'm not too sure about that age gap, what is it, eight years between you?"
"It's seven," Teddy gritted his teeth; finally feeling pissed off, "And shut the fuck up okay. I've had enough."
Stan seemed to understand Teddy's tone and backed off, shooting back the last shot on the tray they had ordered. "Sorry mate. It's this fucking thing Benny made me take, messing up my mind. It was my fault for taking the bloody thing but I'm just saying - I'm not going to do anything to your little boyfriend."
"Damn right you're not." Teddy practically growled back, but he was intrigued, "And what're you talking about? What'd Benny do now?"
"Oh nothing, just mentioned this wild fucking thing when we were on duty on Saturday. I finally got around to trying it tonight, when I had to go get my coat back from the office."
Teddy looked around the packed club, growing more interested by the second. He watched as a man danced round this woman, grinding into the man next to him before returning back to her.
"What is it then?"
Stan grinned and leaned closer to Teddy, "Great fucking idea. Okay. Y'know how we watch the dreams yeh? Just watch?"
"Of course."
"Well Benny had this idea. Brilliant fucking idea."
"Merlin," Teddy sighed, where was this going? "Tell me the point Stan."
"Yeh, yeh I'm getting there. Anyway, Benny's all curious on the job you see, making eyes at all the pretty vials we've got in the cases, row after row. And he asks me, he says, 'Eh Stan, what the hell does the Ministry do with these?' and I say, 'hell if I know, yeh?' and he says, 'what you imagine it to be like, taking a fucking dream?' and I says, I says, 'try it then, eh big man on deck' so he does."
Teddy eyes were wide, trying to see if what Stan was telling was the uttermost truth, or just a drunken haze, "And? He could get fucking fired at the drop of-"
"He said it was like heaven," Stan's eyes droop down, "like heaven on earth, he said. Someone else's dream, y'know, dreaming without trying. So I tried it about hour or two ago, and he's right. Itis like heaven. Like the best thing that's happened to me since four summers ago when I fell in love with Christine. But without that feeling that it's going to end, you know? This shit stays with you. It's fucking quality stuff."
"Quality? Quality stuff?" The only time Teddy had heard those words it had been about products, stuff the made your toast for you, that made your acne go away.
"Fuck yes," Stan was truly gone now, slumping his shoulders and resting his head on the stained table. "I'd pay for that. Any money, man it's like happiness in a shoot. Brilliant."
Stan mumbled a few words after that, mostly of the same, but Teddy wasn't listening anymore. His thoughts were focused on that bit about quality. What made something a product in the long run? Could he, Teddy Lupin, make this thing - this job he'd been working for years - something more?
His mind whirled, ideas flashing in front of his mind. Buying, selling, trafficking this stuff for others. The Ministry had a powerful moneymaker in their grasp all along and they never knew - would never know.
Teddy had the resources; he could forefront this, make every person in Wizarding London starving for a taste of someone else's dreams. And then he and James would finally be able to do what they had always wanted. To soar into the unknown, make their presence clear to the universe, leave nothing behind.
If this wasn't fate he didn't know what it was.
-.-
Tony Anderson's funeral was a pretty sad affair, but that goes without saying.
His mother was crying in the front, all ruffles and curls and black skirt. She was leaning heavily on his father, proud and tall with a strong mustache.
The surrounding people in their wooden, magicked seats were all family, cousins he hadn't seen in years, great aunts and uncles that only seemed real on trees and in portraits. They all had matching umbrellas, black with a carbon stem - so there'd be no accidental lightning attack.
None of Tony's friends were around, which was strange as he'd had so many, funny, smart, atrocious men and women who cared about him deeply. Who always let him take the first shot at parties. Who begged him not to drive that bloody Muggle car because, hey Tone you're fucking wasted-
Annie and Jacob and Scorpius and Marlene sat near their car on the other side of the graveyard, passing a flask full of Dragon's Gin between them, watching as their friend was lowered into the earth.
After it was over Annie, Jacob and Marlene went back to their flat, intent on getting stoned quick and easy. But Scorpius stayed, smoking a cigarette in the graveyard far after the sun went down.
-.-
A week later Teddy screwed up the courage.
It was a normal night by any means. He'd had lunch with James that afternoon, gone back home for a quick shag after dessert and then they both took off to work. Teddy sat in front of the monitors, listening to Denver go on about his wife, the kids, how he didn't understand why Hogwarts started at 11, because he'd pay good money for them to take Justin at 4. Teddy asked polite questions to the younger man, how his wife Hermione was doing what with another baby on the way.
It always seemed strange to him that people like Denver and his wife would only ever look upon the golden war heroes as untouchable, brave statues. Yet Teddy, growing up in their houses, had seen Harry spray himself with the kitchen faucet, toss gnomes round in his garden, and kick his own son out for falling in love with his godson.
Didn't they understand that people like Harry and (once upon a time Aunt) Hermione were just normal humans? Didn't they see that being great wasn't about the things you did, but about how much you wanted it?
He waited ten minutes after Denver left to pick up food before he headed over to the racks of vials.
His eyes flitted along all the tags, names, dates, classification. He wondered, not for the first time, what the Ministry was planning on doing with them. So far Teddy and his colleagues had filled two rooms to the brim, shelf after shelf filled with little memories, stories, daydreams.
He shuffled through them; white tags meant they were good, black bad, and grey was for the obscure ones. Teddy had never been one for drugs at school, always the farthest from the Gillyweed circles, preferring to drink and talk to friends. It never occurred to him that something like this, that had the effect of a drug, could actually intoxicate him to want more, to make him an addict, control him and leave him powerless. This was all curiousity.
He picked up a white-tagged vial, his own handwriting scribbled along it, Julia Schoe - 47 - Liverpool. Teddy looked into the glass vial, seeing images in the golden liquid, swirls of pink and blue and green. All it took was a second of hesitation before he had unscrewed the stopper, threw his head back and poured the vial down his throat.
He dropped the glass, not hearing it shatter, and fell to his knees, unaware of the glass poking into him or the race of his heartbeat. He could only feel one thing:
His mind whirling.
The first taste was incredible, like a shot of happiness straight to the gut, pure adrenaline took control and all he could see was a bright light. Slowly an image found its way into his mind; the clouds of imagination broke through, a single beam of that light, chocolate rabbits skipping through the air. He felt a pull and all of a sudden he was flying, swear to Merlin flying, without a broomstick in sight.
There seemed to be a field of green beneath him, a powerful sensation of peace came over him, and then he was falling.
The ground came up to meet him, but gravity didn't kill him, his weight slowed and retired onto the bed that was resting just beneath him now, a comfy four poster that he eased himself down on. He looked to his right and there was James, healthy and smiling and beautiful and more well-rested than he'd looked in a while. He smiled brightly, but for once in Teddy's life he didn't want to kiss the grin off his face. His eyes were too distracted by a large pile of money on the floor next to him.
Stacks of galleons, heaps of sickles all greeted him, twinkling like the stars. He jumped off the four-poster, sliding down the bed. He felt the ground pull up around him and found himself on a pirate's boat, with his money in a chest, as he leaped in after it.
The galleons didn't hurt, the sickles didn't cause any bruises and in the next second James had joined him on the ground, laughing and shouting with happiness.
"It's all yours," he grinned, auburn hair blinking in the sun, "All yours Teddy."
-.-
Bruce Highlander didn't know where he was.
The last thing he remembered doing the night before was mugging some bloke on the street. After that he figured he must have headed to that place in the alleys, found the blue-haired man, and gotten his fix.
He usually felt fantastic the morning after, those dreams stayed with you for a while, but by the pulsing in his head it hadn't been like that at all.
He looked around himself, took in the broken bottles, the scruffy blankets, the flannel jackets he had kept from being stolen by stuffing them up his shirt at night. Bruce definitely couldn't remember the dream, could barely think of how he got there.
And then it came flushing back, the knuts he managed to scrounge, the pathetic look the man with the sky-blue tresses gave him, throwing some small stopper full of amber liquid. He'd scurried away, happy with anything he could get.
Now, as he rolled on the ground clutching his searing head, his pierced stomach, he knew never to buy cheap drugs again.
If there was going to be an again, that is.
-.-
"I thought you were off this weekend?" James asked, from his spot on the couch. He was reading one of his Muggle sci-fi books, probably Asimov as he was his favourite, quill and ruler next to him for the moments when he liked a passage so much he underlined it. Teddy thought his reading was incredibly endearing, but also a little crazy, as there were so many paperbacks in the flat already, and James hardly ever read the same one twice.
"Benny had a problem the other day with some labels or something. He's working now and Stan can't come in to control him so…" Teddy trailed off, unable to think of a legitimate excuse for breaking off their plans to spend time with a man he would see the next night anyways.
"Benny… he's the supposed druggie, right?" James smiled, kicking his feet up on their coffee table, knocking off a couple coasters in the process.
"Yes."
"And Stan, that's the one that always hits on me," Teddy laughed, nodding, wondering -not for the first time- if James truly thought all his friends were mad. "Is he actually playing for our team, or…"
"He likes sex. It's pretty simple." Teddy threw on his traveling cloak, midnight blue to match his hair.
"Well," James said picking up his book again, and smiling wide, "he certainly has good taste, eh?"
Teddy laughed again, "You cheeky bugger!" and gave the same bugger a quick kiss on the forehead, yelling his goodbye as he left the flat.
A second later he was in the Atrium of the Ministry. He followed a small group of witches into the lift to the right of the great statue of the heroes. As the doors closed he could just see the point of Hermione's golden hat, shimmering in the light reflected off the fountain.
It was a chatty ride to the last level, the women at the Sports Department tended to be a little gossipy, but Teddy reached his destination without consequence. He passed all the Unspeakables chatting near the courtrooms, heading straight for the spinning room. He'd heard story after story when he was a kid about the fiery Xs that helped Harry find the right door and then how he just iasked/i politely, but Teddy knew the spell the worked. It was out of his mouth before the door he had climbed through even stopped, directing him immediately to the Department of Dreams.
Benny and two blokes that Teddy had met once or twice were sitting by the monitors, excessively quiet because of the time, playing a round of toss the knut in the bottle (the object of the game was self explanatory).
Teddy walked swiftly, feeling childish as he looked down and saw his robes swirling around his legs. "Hey Benny! Give me a minute, yeh?"
Benny, small and skinny with huge eyes, turned in his chair and took a glance at Teddy, "Oy! How you been Ted? Hey, have you seen the new batch of rubber stoppers? The glass ones keep breaking."
"Search me," Teddy sighed, wondering if it would turn into one of those conversations, where Benny asked questions and then left Teddy with nothing in return.
"Too bad about Danny, eh?" Their co-worker's wife was pregnant. Again.
"Yeh, we should make him a fruit basket or something," Benny laughed, as Teddy continued, "Last thing that poor bloke needs is another kid."
"I just can't believe they're still together!" exclaimed Benny, shaking his head while aiming for the butterbeer bottle. "Jesus Christ, it's been awhile."
Teddy nodded, moving closer to the group, nudging Benny in the shoulder. "Hey Ben, can I talk to you over there for a minute?"
Benny looked confused but he went with it, following Teddy over to the other side of the room, where they could just see the glint of the glass vials, stacked atop one another like books.
"What can I do you for?" the shorter man asked as Teddy looked around nervously, hoping there weren't any secrecy or bugging charms placed around the area. He knew of a couple security measures, but none that would actually record their conversation, unless of course-
"Merlin, Ted, what the fuck is it? Y'know I can't be here forever or Tweedle Dee and Dum over there are going to report me."
"Benny, y'know the thing you were talking to Stan about the other day?"
"Ted," he began slowly, giving him a well aren't you thick look. "I see Stan almost every day. You're going to have to give me more than that."
"The thing about… taking the dreams. Swallowing and then actually fantasizing other people's dreams."
"Oh."
There was an awkward silence, as if what they were saying really truly meant more than just curiousity in ambitious hands.
"Yeh." Benny wrung his wrists together, making them harsh, red and angry, "It was just an idea, really. And fucking fun too, if you've never tried it. You should, honest. But if you're going to tell the boss or the fucking Aurors, then please Ted, you got to believe me I didn't-"
"Merlin," Teddy hissed, trying not to get mad, but it was so easy to with Jump-To-Conclusions-Benny. "For fuck's sake, keep your voice down. I'm not going to tell anyone."
Benny breathed a sigh of relief but Teddy wasn't done yet.
"But I need your help."
-.-
The birds were chirping, the grasshoppers had finished their final tune and Mrs. Willum was bustling around her kitchen, getting ready for a new day. She worked at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in the Ministry, had been working there for many years. She lived in downtown London, about five minutes from St. Paul's; in the old, rich home her family had had for generations.
Having been widowed years before Mrs. Willum was accustomed to quiet mornings and waited until her eggs and bacon had been eaten, dishes washed and papers read, before going to wake her son Daniel up. He was 18, out of school for the Easter holidays, and she dotted on him obsessively, her only child and recollection of the husband she missed very much.
Daniel's room was on the third floor so she carefully climbed the rickety old stairs with hash browns in hand, pushing the door to his bedroom open with a smile.
Her scream was heard the next building over where two men shared a flat. These two men, Herald and Garrett but that's hardly important, were out their door in seconds and knocking on Mrs. Willum's door. She was incredibly kind to them, always lending things to them, bread and milk and books.
With a quick charm the door opened, allowing Garrett to push it aside and run up the stairs while Herald shouted her name, announcing their presence. Garrett reached her quickly, immediately asking the woman what could possibly be wrong and if she was hurt-
He stopped dead as he followed her horrified eyes to the scene.
The young man, Daniel, was lying on his bed, lifeless eyes, pale skin, with deep, angry cuts in his arm. There was a bloody knife next to him, and a handful of empty glass vials. A patch of sick was next to him, the smell wafting through the room to disguise the eager smell of death.
Garrett could only watch helplessly as Mrs. Willum began sobbing, falling to the floor, unable to do a thing while she mourned over the corpse that had been her son.
-.-
The abrupt change between the light, colourful shops of Diagon Alley and the harsh, dreadful ruins of Knockturn Alley startled Teddy. He'd heard of the first time Harry had been there, an accident with floo powder that had ended with Borgin & Burkes, but had never been there himself. The cacklings down dark laneways made the hair stand up on the back of his neck and it began to turn black in warning. A cold breeze riffled through the seemingly empty streets and old newsprint flew past Teddy as he clutched his thin robes to his body, internally cursing himself for forgetting his cloak.
A noise behind him made him flinch and speed up his pace, looking anxiously from the corner of his eye. He had always been a Ravenclaw at school, seeing the smartest options before anyone, used to having common sense. What he was doing now, thought Teddy as his feet echoed down the cobblestone walk, was definitely not smart.
As he passed people's faces in the shadows, deftly dodging a woman's bony hand, Teddy made a desperate prayer for James to appear. If James appeared he could take him home, lead away from this horrible place, convince him that he didn't need to do this, that they could figure things out together.
But James wasn't there, so Teddy continued on.
He arrived at the same shop the man had detailed, a shabby looking potions supply store called Eye of Newt, and hesitated before pushing the door open and walking inside.
The best word to describe the place was dingy. Half a dozen dead rats hung from strings attached to the cave like ceiling. A chill ran up Teddy's spine as an earsplitting ting of sorts was released at the closing of the door. Black soot brushed against the floor, skirting around him before flying towards the stone fireplace across the room.
There wasn't a single soul in the store that Teddy could see. He could hear conversation though, a dull hum of dialogue behind closed curtains at the back of the shop. Teddy was tempted to flee right then, make a run for it while the door handle was still warm. However during his moment of hesitation a man came silently from behind the curtain, dressed in dark robes of mahogany, and all plans in his head were forgotten.
At first glance the man appeared old, like any shopkeeper at Diagon he'd had years of back-biting mothers, hawk-shrieking children, and the odd customer that he counted as an equal. This was just a playing of his mind, because as Teddy watched the man walk closer he saw clear skin, white -not grey- hair and a smug tone about him, one that must have taken years to perfect.
"Can I help you with anything?" asked the strange man, a voice of gravel coming through his dry, crackled lips. He stood about three feet from Teddy, giving him curious, body-binding leers, making self consciousness flare up in the riddled gent.
"I'm looking for a Mr. Burke? Do you know where I might find him?"
The man spat on the floor, a grey tinge of wet goo that didn't resemble much of anything, and leant forward a little, "'Course I fucking do. Why the hell do you need him?"
Teddy smiled for the first time that morning and, with the knowledge that things were going moderately well, said in a secretive voice,
"I have something that just might interest him."
-.-
The man's arched eyebrows rose and he turned around, heading behind the dusty curtains to find the man Teddy sought after.
Salem Henderson had been a great girl growing up. Her dad would tell everyone he knew about the amazing drawings she drew, unicorns at 6, landscapes at 12, and portraits at 17. She was a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts, loyal and happy and fun - there wasn't a person who didn't like her.
Salem had a big, great smiling face. She wasn't particularly pretty, her eyes too wide apart, too goofy a grin, but she had had a long-term boyfriend, John, since school. They lived near Euston station, which they always took, because John was a Muggleborn and liked the tube far better than Apparation.
Salem was all these things and more, until the day of her twentieth birthday. She took the vial her friend offered her because everyone else was, and wasn't this just great? It was a fucking dream, she could see rainbows and sparkling fires, cute boys who just wanted to hold her hand. It was good stuff, costing a number of Sickles for a nice, easy trip.
Three months later James Potter found her on the street, ninety eight pounds with her hair falling out, standing on a street corner waiting for costumers. Selling her body to the night so she could get her fix later that day.
James, who had known her through school, could barely hold the bile in his throat as she collapsed in his arms.
-.-
They met up for lunch the next day, through word of the strange man. Teddy was tired, as always and really just wanted to get the meeting over with. He wasn't entirely sure he needed this man, although Benny was persistent in his story. Apparently this bloke, this Dominatus Burke, was the success behind every mass-drug trafficking in the past thirty years. That made him pretty old by Teddy's count, but wizards lived longer than Muggles anyways, so it wasn't unusual to see old blighters at the forefront of successes.
Teddy had tried to do a little research on the man, see how exactly he'd gotten his edge. From what he could tell, searching through one of the old Pureblood books in the Magical London Library, the Burkes had owned a large part of Knockturn once upon a time and Dominatus, being the son of the brother of Borgin & Burkes had apprenticed at the Apothecary. Some family matters had gone down right after the war and they now owned a very small part of the area.
And that's all he could find out.
The meeting was set for a bar just on the edges of Knockturn, some place named Firestone and Sons. It was bleary enough on the inside to easily guess you wouldn't be finding Honeydukes counter girls there, but clean enough - begging for Diagon shoppers to rest their feet in there awhile.
Teddy was at a table near the back, surrounded by grim looking people and even more depressing curtains. Although he'd grown up knowing that there were poor people in the world, and they were no different rich ones once you took away the money, he still had to hold back a nose wrinkle and the state of people around him. His Muggle Studies teacher back at school was a huge fan of the '60s punk movement and was always talking about this place in New York, Max's Kansas City - some kind of club. The 'Warhol people' went there until it became pretty commercial, and although Professor Feldman ranted about the beauty of Lou Reed and Danny Fields arguing over drinks, Teddy imagined it was a lot similar to the bar.
A scruffy waitress in red robes took his order for a Firewhisky and fish & chips, as they were probably the only things that couldn't be contaminated with anything, germ wise or drug he didn't care. He sat back in the chair, trying to touch as little as possible.
The bell rang as the front door opened and a man entered. Teddy looked away; he was far too young to be the old man he looked after. However, barely a second passed before the man walked up to his table, putting out a hand.
"Dominatus Burke. You must be Teddy. Saw the hair."
Teddy started, looking up at the man who was, Merlin, couldn't be much older than thirty. Of course magic was a part of it, but it couldn't claim the dusty-dirt brown hair, the solid grey eyes, strong looking chest and tall, graceful legs. His mouth was set in a wide smile, inviting Teddy to instantly throw a hand out, shaking the man's quickly.
"Quite the locks you've got there," the man said, sitting down in the chair opposite him. "Any specific reason for the blue? You like those punk kids?" he asked, not unkindly, vaguely waving his fingers to the bar at the front.
"Well," Teddy contemplated, shifting his hair to red, green and then back to the blue, "not exactly."
Dominatus laughed, the action lighting up his whole face. He gave Teddy an appreciative look, accepting him almost instantly. "Clever," he grinned, turning to the waitress that had hurried her way over. "Very clever." He looked up at the woman, handing her the menu on the table without so much as glancing at it. "Jeanie, sweetheart. I'd love some fish. Do you have salmon, by chance? Maybe some trout?"
The waitress nodded quickly, "We'll find some for you sir. The salmon"
"Good, good. I want it fried, with some lemon on the side. No potatoes, some steamed asparagus instead, in a creamy cheese sauce. Understand?"
"Yes sir," she wrote furiously in her little notepad, ink splattering her nose a little. Teddy was a little stunned.
"Excellent. Now I'd love some wine, good Muggle stuff - Peter Lehman, 2006. The Stonewell Shiraz. And one for my friend here, that's two glasses. And the bottle, if you please."
He looked back at Teddy and leaned forward, clearly showing his desire for conversation. The woman left quickly, hurrying to the kitchen.
"I-" Teddy began then stopped himself and took a breath, "How did you…? None of that was on the menu, I don't understand how-"
Dominatus chuckled, bringing a hand up to his hair to push it away from his face. "When you get to be as infamous as me in this town, you'll see why I can do this."
Teddy watched, astounded, as he leaned back in his chair, reeking of wealth and power, of good food and a strong mind. Teddy felt an inkling in his stomach, something he had only felt twice in his life: when Victoire would talk about Weasley get-togethers that were ijust/i for family and the year James was 15, when he brought a friend home with him for the week and Teddy found him and Adam shagging in his room.
It was jealousy. Pure, uncontrollable jealousy.
Here was this man, rich, powerful, literally the Al Capone of Knockturn Alley. He ordered what he wanted and got it quick, easy, with no mess-ups. If he wanted you, he got you. If he thought you were worth something, you got some of his time.
The way Dominatus held himself made Teddy more envious then watching Adam's head roll back, his hips thrusting into James's pretty mouth. His smirk, so careful and classy, makes more of an impact on the monster in his stomach than Adam's did when he saw Teddy standing in the doorway, watching his fingers clenched in James's hair. Teddy is more jealous at the way Dominatus can drum his fingers on the table twice to get attention, than when he watched James swallow as Adam came.
"So. My friend up at Newt's says you have something for me, a proposition. I don't mean to be rude, but there are places to be and people to see, all that and more." He smiled charmingly, gesturing with one hand for Teddy to start talking. "Floor's yours."
Teddy clears his throat, wanting this man to believe him, wanting for once in his whole stupid life that he'll get everything right without messing things up.
"You see, Mr. Burke, I have this idea…"
A week later they were trafficking.
-.-
They were young, barely legal, stepping out onto the shoeless streets of London with nothing in mind except a wild, unforgiving night. They were flawless in their arrogance, megalomaniac, heartbreaking, seizing the day before the carpe diem mug hit the floor with a crash.
The drugs were only a small part of what they faced everyday. They were the beauty, not the drugs. They were beautiful in their youth, immortal, it didn't matter what they were swallowing, what sort of images ran through their heads.
They were violent, untrustworthy and numbing under the influence, running past the dark alleys every night with galleons to pay. They had high expectations, low expectations, great expectations for the world to grab them, shake them, say ithis generation is fun/i And they were fun, they exploded and cheered; they were fireworks.
Bright glares and stolen moments.
Lighting up the sky.
Dying young and burning out.
-.-
The partnership of Burke & Lupin ran 24 hours, 7 days a week. Behind stores, in alleyways, wherever, whenever. You came to them, unless you had the galleons for a home delivery. For the extra they'd come to your choice of location; a blue haired man in dark, nearly black robes; his face always slightly different. There were three prices for the dreams, but only one size they came in. At the factory they were known simply as 1, 2, and 3. On the streets they had different names, however.
First was Piss-Poor, the cheapest and worst one to buy. Only completely addicts bought this, when they had nothing else to pay with. The drug was half dream and half whatever they found to cut it with. They weren't vivid; they just left your brain jumbled for a long time afterwards. It was like jake in probation.
The next was called anything from Norm to Meh. These dreams were pretty good, kept with you in the morning and didn't make you throw up unless you overdosed. They had a good appeal to most addicts and teenage kids who ran around with their parent's money and the moot hope that going into Knockturn on a Friday night would ease their mischievous streak.
The last, and best drug, was like the strongest, cleanest, purest heroin. It was extremely expensive but possessed a long-lasting taste that was rumoured to stay with you for weeks at a time. It was called Mag - for magnificent or magnanimous, nobody knew.
However, no matter how much the drugs cost or what they did to your mind, they all had the same quality; extremely addictive.
Teddy worked in dealing, meeting people, selling them the stuff they wanted. His Metamorph abilities made him the best for the job and he gladly worked it. The Department of Mysteries held his curiousity streak, but he had never been able to run awhile - was chained down to his desk and his strange but clean colleagues.
Dominatus held down the fort, assigning friends of his to various jobs he needed to get done. He managed the stock, keeping the bottles in check, writing and managing inventory, paying rent and dividing the money at the end of the day.
He was also striving for something that Teddy thought ridiculous: he was working on international communications - trying to bring this new London phenomenon global.
Some nights, early-late in the morning when all Teddy wanted to do was go home, sneak into bed and make James cuddle him - or suck him off, whichever was easier - Dominatus would call him into his office.
Teddy would kneel by his side, looking over at the parchment strewn across the desk. Dominatus, like a lot of people in Teddy's life, adored his hair and constantly wanted to stroke it.
He would speak in a clean, even voice while stroking Teddy's hair, or let him brainstorm while Teddy's calloused hands rubbed on his shoulders, or promise Teddy he'd be involved in the next meeting, as he cautiously ran a hand down Teddy's side, his eyes searing for something more.
Then he'd let him run back home to James, expecting to see him earlier the next day for more work.
They predominately worked out of the top floor of Newt. There was a system set up, similar to the one in the Department of Mysteries, but much larger. There weren't any panels to view the dreams, only a tiny meter running out of the satellite-like device that received the dream frequencies. It used a special charm in order to determine whether the dream was good or bad, and how good the good dreams were.
The nice ones were sent to the right of the machine, where they were put through another detection charm. Both types, marvelous and good, were immediately bottled and stored in the crates at the bottom of the machine - ready to be sold.
The undesirable lot - dull dreams of camping and math class - went to the left, where they eventually went through another device, sending them back to their owners or catching another mind on the way and claiming that person's dreams.
-.-
Teddy Lupin spent every day watching hollowed eyes and shrunken skin approach him. He knew the consequences of the drugs, saw how it ruined people's lives, how deep they got, how quitting wasn't even a thought in their mind.
He ran the streets with them, continuing their habit, prodding them to buy more, to use what little money they had on more vials, more delicious bits of happiness that could make them feel whole again.
But sometimes, when the harsh reality of his own choices came upon him, Teddy would pop the stopper on a dream, glance down into the golden liquid and swallow it.
Every time was as amazing as the last; they made him pure and golden and float like he was weightless, like nothing would ever come crushing down. He couldn't curb it, was just as helpless with the freedom the dreams gave him, was just as pathetic and drugged and addicted as the young women with their veiny hands and wrinkly skin.
The only difference between him and the addicts was his stock.
He never had anything less than Mag.
-.-
"What's up with you?" James asked Teddy one night after he'd come home late again, tired and angry, with broken knuckles after punching that guy Arty in the face because goddamn it -where was his money?- It was hard to meet worried eyes, knowing what Teddy knew about the day. Sometimes he wished that James would just give it up, make a mistake or two in their relationship so that every one he created didn't make him feel so bad.
"Nothing," he tried to say in an offhand way, never mind that he was never good at lying, wrapping a dirty, tainted arm around James's clean, pure waist. "Just met up with Benny in Diagon, got into a stupid fight with some pricks at the bar, you know how that can be."
Teddy watched his boyfriend smile, never doubting Teddy for a second, and kiss the bruised knuckles.
"You need to watch yourself. I'm not very good at healing charms, and I don't want you broken Teddy," James grinned, giving Teddy a kiss on the cheek and waltzing back to the pea soup bubbling away on the stove element.
Broken? Was that what he was? Snapped, chiseled, shot? Was he a write-off? And if yes, what would James do about that? He fell in love with good, strong, Potter-loved Teddy, but what about this new person that had taken over his body?
He wasn't too sure about James feelings, especially now that his were changing. He'd never wanted anything more than a lazy Sunday morning with James, but now as he watched his boyfriend bustle around their tiny kitchen his mind flooded back to his afternoon.
He remembered the way he put his hand on Burke's knee, something bigger than their previous entanglements, something more than a tumble after hours. The older man had leant forward, clutching at Teddy's head as he breathed down his neck. As Teddy felt the pants across his skin he came to the realization that he couldn't do shit all without Dominatus. He could not do a fucking thing without the man's connections, his charisma, the way he made others fall powerless around him. Teddy's rise for power would have to be a dual effort.
So when Dominatus took his elbow and led him outside he did not refuse. He followed the older man, let himself be pushed up against the hideous wall, attacked by hungry kisses. Teddy stayed quiet as he was forced down to his knees, taking him with no complaint. There wasn't a thought in his mind about cheating or lies or even fucking James, only pleasing this man.
And after, with his mouth all swollen, he had managed to choke out an iI have a boyfriend/i, not sure what it would do to the other man. Dominatus laughed, biting Teddy on his neck, as if to prove that it didn't matter if he had someone else - only he could take Teddy like that.
The afternoon had been a mistake and he needed to move past it.
With his collar high to cover the mark he had already magicked away, he joined his boyfriend in the preparations for dinner, laughing along with him easily, almost like nothing had happened that day.
Later that night, with James breathing heavily underneath him while Teddy forced himself into the younger man's body, he came to the conclusion that maybe - just maybe - it wasn't all about the gold. Perhaps, Teddy thought as he kissed James messily, pushing his cock harder into the man and watching him wriggle, there was something more that mattered.
Teddy became positive of this at his moment of climax, when, unintentionally, he lost control of his powers. This wasn't very unheard of, James tended to do strange things to his body, and he was used to going down on James as a brunette and rolling off him with purple hair, green eyes glowing.
This time though, it was his hands that decided to freak out. Just as Teddy's breathing went back to normal and he began pulling out of James so they could have their post-shag smoke, he heard a noise. Looking down, he noticed a very uncomfortable expression on James face, which only confirmed his fear that something bad had happened. And then the noise came once again, a little whimper that sounded a lot like Teddy?
He rolled off James in the next second, watching as the man squirmed before grasping a hand to his shoulder, and giving Teddy a mock-glare.
"You didn't hear me the first time?" James asked as he shifted his muscles, a tiny flash of pain crossing his face, "Didn't even know you could do that with your fucking nails."
Teddy shrugged helplessly, feeling something big and important growing in the pit of his stomach. He glanced down, watching the deep, dark, red crescents on James's shoulders move with his bones.
"Fuck, that hurt," James grinned, curling into Teddy's side and throwing an arm around his stomach. "I'll get you back for that, you bloody werewolf, Metamorph bloke-thing." He sighed, "I'm fucking knackered, mind if we go without the fag?"
Teddy nodded or shook his head, a bit of both and watched as James's eyelashes fluttered shut, then stared back at the ceiling.
Holy shit. Teddy hadn't felt that good in awhile. He had made James whimper. He'd made him hurt. Teddy Lupin had made Auror-training, little-sister-defending, Quidditch dominating, boundary jumping, Harry fucking Potter's son say ow.
Nothing ever felt that good, the knowledge that he was on top. He had power over someone that had always been untouchable to him.
And so, on a late February night, with the wind howling past his bedroom window and James Potter curled into his side, Teddy had an epiphany.
It wasn't all about the money. It was all about what the money brought him, what kind of power he received when he was worth more than the person under him.
-.-
It wasn't exactly unusual to see Scorpius Malfoy in the Auror office. He'd been into a couple scuffles before, and tended to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when parties were busted. But this time it wasn't his fault.
The death of Tony Anderson had many inquires on it, and as Scorpius had been a good friend of his, it was only natural that he go in for questioning. So while Scorpius sat in the interrogating room in the Auror office, a trainee sat in the chair in the corner from him, filling out the Daily Prophet's crossword.
"6 letters," the man mumbled under his breath, tickling his own chin with his own quill. "Famous heroes."
Scorpius could not help but roll his eyes and he said quite clearly, "Potter."
It took a second but then - "Oh. Thanks mate." Scorpius caught the end of the wink sent to him.
Coughing awkwardly he tried again, "Um, well… Potter. Good lot. Yeh. Speaking of, I don't suppose you remember my earlier request-"
"Look mate," the man sighed, standing up. The badge on his robes proudly displayed AUROR RICHARDS. "You can't exactly choose your interrogator. It's not exactly… allowed."
"Richards. I mean, Mr. Richards." Scorpius wasn't above begging. "Auror Potter and I go back. We're old friends. I'm sure he'd love to see me-"
"Psh, even more reason why he can't be here," Richards smartly said. "Honestly, I can't-"
Scorpius also wasn't above sexual favours, "How about a blowjob? I give a mean blowjob. D'you want one?"
"Merlin!" exclaimed Richards, laughing a little but looking altogether uncomfortable. "Why don't you save it for White when he gets here? Or get some drinks with Potter later, eh?"
The door opened, cutting Scorpius on his retort and Richards looked up, praying Auror White was there.
However, a tousled hair, sleepy-eyed James Potter stood in the doorway instead, walking quickly into the room with two folders under his right arm.
"Joseph had to go home early," he said tiredly. "Something about his mother. I'm all we got apparently."
"Merlin Potter." Richards gave James a quick one-over. "When's the last time you slept mate?"
James just smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he took the seat opposite Scorpius, riffling through the files. Richards left with a sigh and as the door slammed shut brown eyes caught pale blue ones with a grin.
"Been awhile, eh Scorp?"
Scorpius smiled widely. Although it was he and Al who had been in the same year, James was the brother he liked better. Scorpius was a party animal and though James tended to be kind of quiet at time, Al brought a whole new definition to bookish. "You know me. Hell if I ever keep an address book."
James laughed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. Scorpius looked on with a quiet smirk,
"Lupin treating you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," James trailed off, shooting Scorpius a sarcastic smile. "He's doing fine. Work's driving me mad though. All they're talking about is the mass-murderer in Edinburgh - as if there are no problems in London…"
"About that," Scorpius began, a little awkwardly as he scratched his neck with one hand. "A friend of mine, well, he was killed about-"
"Tony Anderson." James's eyes turned sad, frown starting on his face, "Yeah, I was there when they checked out the crime scene. COD was accidental overdose, right?"
"No. It wasn't accidental."
Scorpius leaned back, looking away from James and his understanding eyes. He'd gotten over Tony's death, just like he'd been taught to by his father, who always used to say some old Dumbledore quote, something about pitying live people, not the dead and yada yada.
"It wasn't an overdose. I know him; he wouldn't have done something like that. Besides, he was cleaning up - getting into less harmful drugs, you know?"
James sighed, running a hand through his auburn hair, eyeing Scorpius, "So you're saying it was a straight, no-hitting murder. Someone wanted Tony dead?"
"They weren't clean drugs. They were like dirt, purposely bad for you and..." he trailed off at the look James gave him. Scorpius swallowed. "Look, I know you can't take my word for it. I get that, no one believes a Malfoy. But I swear on my life - Tony's death wasn't an accident."
James sighed again, "Scorp, mate, I want to help you out but we don't even have a case on it yet, and even if we did, I don't know where to begin-"
"I can show you," Scorpius said desperately. "I can bring you to the place where he bought it."
Part 2