Fair Game | Foul Play : Chapter V, Part i

[qblackheart]

Jensen, to Jared, because he was: A: A prat, B: Not funny, C: An idiot, D: Not forgiven, or E: All of the above. As when Jared was writing exams at Hogwarts, when in doubt, it’s probably best to go with E.



When Ned died, Florence fluttered and burst into flower, but then she stilled, as if in mourning for her gruff little companion; Daphne just tucked her yellow head in between Florence’s branches and stayed there, silent.

Jared was beside himself, and he missed Jensen so fiercely in that moment that all the love he had inside him roiled and churned into something that felt a lot like hate, because Jensen should’ve been there with him, to share the loss, to help him heal, and yet, continents and oceans separated them and Jared hadn’t felt this lonely since he’d first started at Hogwarts.

The idea came to him when he conveyed the news to Neville: Ned needed a burial. Neville understood; he’d had Trevor once and toads made excellent companions, no matter what anyone else said. Great Aunt Augusta had scoffed when he’d told her - which was a better reaction than what he’d gotten from the team (outright laughter and pitying get-a-life-mate looks) - but her hard expression had softened a bit when he mentioned that Ned had found him at Great Aunt Callie’s funeral; she’d been buried next to Great Uncle Harfang, in the same cemetery as Jared’s parents.

Perhaps she’d seen things in his own eyes that Jared had been afraid to say. Like how he’d never been to his parents’ gravesides since that day, and how he felt something calling to him now, an aching loneliness, a sadness that grew inside him like an ever-widening abyss. She told him then that the house his parents had lived in had been remodelled and resold by the Ministry almost immediately, the Muggle neighbours Obliviated, and the proceeds from the sale deposited into Jared’s meagre account at Gringotts; it’d been that money, and the tiny sum Great Aunt Callie had left him, that had helped him afford Hogwarts and the living of life in between school.

The trip to Newlyn had been bittersweet. He couldn’t remember much of having lived there before, but snatches of memories came to him, especially when he’d left the cemetery - he’d buried Ned next to his dad, in a hole deep enough that he wouldn’t be dug up by scavengers or float up with the rains - and walked along the nearby streets, up the road to the house where he’d been born. The memories were the strongest there, because he knew that house, knew it because it’d haunted his dreams as a child, its once pristine white walls scorched from flame and smoke.

Now, it looked like someone’s home, and he was startled out of his staring by the friendly owners who’d been out in their garden; a family of three, a couple and their baby daughter, a lovely cherub who’d smiled and cooed up at him and held onto his finger with a grip that belied her age.

“You used to live here, you say?” the man asked him when he mentioned it. “Your name wouldn’t be - what was that name again, love? Pada-something?”

“Padalecki?” Jared blinked in surprise. “I’m Jared Padalecki.”

“Yes, that’s it!” the woman remarked, all smiles. “Someone’s been looking for you, sweetheart. A solicitor. He left his card - oh, ages ago now. I kept it, though…”

“She never throws anything out,” her husband said with a fond smile, and she swatted him on the shoulder before beckoning Jared in through the gate.

“Why don’t you come in and have a spot of tea with us while I look for it, Jared? You can play with Corinne; she’s obviously completely enamoured with you.”

It didn’t even occur to him how momentous that instant was until his foot crossed over the threshold and into his childhood home, but when he left an hour later, it was with a lighter heart and a spring in his step, and when he Apparated back into his flat in Falmouth to find Rogue and Penny waiting for him, along with that little note from Jensen that said so much more than the words on the page, his grief, while not gone yet, didn’t feel quite as crushing as it had before.



“Misha, you touch me again, and I’ll hex your bollocks off!”

Jared was standing, wand out and menacingly aimed at Misha’s lap as he roared the words, stunning the room into silence. He was breathing heavily, his blood boiling with anger, and in the corner of the room, Genevieve burst into tears; Kim glared daggers at them.

“I will stick my wand up the arse of the next person who says another word, and cast a Furnunculus Curse! See how you’d like having massive boils in there!” she exclaimed angrily. “What the bloody hell is the matter with you two?”

“Fuck off and stay out of this, bitch!” Misha shouted right back at her, with little concern for his life, obviously, because before Jared could even take umbrage at the insult to her, Kim was facing off against Misha herself, wielding her wand like a weapon.

“Just because you’ve tried and failed - pathetically, I might add - to bang him in Jensen’s absence, doesn’t mean you get to harass him all the time, you manky bastard! Get a fucking life!”

“How about I just take yours instead?” Misha yelled, at the same time that Beaver and Williams both bellowed Disarming spells.

“Expelliarmus!”

Kim’s and Misha’s wands landed in Beaver’s and Williams’ outstretched hands respectively as everyone froze; the threat of a Killing Curse tended to do that to normal people just enjoying what’d started out as a quiet evening in. Even Gen had stopped bawling, her eyes wide with disbelief; Sheppard had ceased rocking back and forth as he sat on the floor by the hearth, muttering nonsense, his knees drawn up to his chest; and Cindy’d finally turned away from staring at the potted palm next to her in an endless, morbid fascination. The others either looked liked someone had died or someone was going to die, and by their hand.

It made no sense whatsoever.

“Something’s very wrong here,” Jared muttered, more to himself than to the others.

“You think, y’idjit?” Beaver scoffed. “There’s Dark Magic afoot.”

“Having Death Eaters near us wouldn’t make us feel like this,” Williams pointed out. “They’re a lot less subtle; we’d probably all be dead by now.”

As far as Jared was concerned, he knew of only one thing that sucked the joy and life out of their surroundings. “Dementors,” he breathed, completely unashamed of his terror as everyone gasped in horror.

“No!” Misha exclaimed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “They’re the guards at Azkaban! Why would they…?”

“Bloody hell, Misha,” Kim growled. “Read the bloody paper once in a while! The Dementors aren’t the Ministry’s little minions anymore!”

“Shut it, you lot!” Cohan yelled as she and Devine made their way downstairs, some of the other players trailing after them, Jake sporting what looked to be the beginnings of a black eye while Sebastian’s nose was bleeding profusely and Katie was rubbing her bruised knuckles. Aldis huffed and went to help them out with his efficient healing spells; he wasn’t their new captain for nothing. Well, Jared thought, at least those of them who’d stayed downstairs hadn’t come to blows. He pointedly ignored the fact that Misha and Kim had almost killed one another; they had bigger problems right now. Cohan looked at him. “You’re right. About the Dementors.”

Devine nodded, and a chill went down Jared’s spine. “I saw them from the windows.”

“Them?” Sheppard suddenly asked, standing up and looking around shiftily. Gone was their stalwart coach of old; he looked like he’d aged a decade in the past few hours.

“At least three of them,” Devine confirmed, “slinking along the street on the north side of the building.”

“Bugger me,” Sheppard whispered, looking really fucking frightened. He hugged his arms around himself and started rocking in place. “They’re coming for me. They couldn’t get me before, so they’re coming for me now…”

“What the hell are you talking about, man?” Williams asked, looking as bewildered as everyone else likely felt.

Sheppard scrubbed a hand down his face and retreated as close to the fire as he could get. “They…they couldn’t carry out their sentence before,” he muttered. “The Ministry saved me, you see. New evidence was presented to the Wizengamot and I was finally proved innocent! That I was Imperiused when I…” He shook his head frantically, as if the memories were too much to bear. “The Dementors had to let me go before carrying out my sentence, before they could…take my soul with a Kiss.”

There was at least a minute of pin-drop silence as everyone digested the information and reeled from the horror of it. When they did recover, many voices rang out, but Misha’s was the loudest. “Let’s kill him,” he said, his eyes feverish and his voice reedy and scared. “Then they’ll go away and leave us alone!”

“Bollocks,” Beaver grumbled in disgust, rolling his eyes as he pointed his wand straight at Misha’s back. “Stupefy!” Misha crumpled like a limp noodle; no one bothered to catch him but the floor. “We’ll pick him up later,” Beaver muttered. “For now, Steven, Loretta - get a read on the location of those soul-sucking dishrags out there, and ward all the windows and doors while you’re at it. Jared, Jake, Seb - take the basement and do the same: Let’s seal and ward every way into this house. Lauren, Kim and I will take the upstairs; the rest of you lot - try not to kill each other.”

They all moved to do his bidding, Beaver giving Kim a gruff smile and her wand back as he went, and she returned it with a playful smirk of her own; it had Jared’s mouth quirking up, too. Those two were not subtle.

Luckily, warding the rest of the guest house didn’t take them very long, but the news waiting for them when they got back into the living room was anything but good.

“There are more than three,” Williams said, and for the first time since he’d met him, Jared saw him look utterly defeated. “A lot more.”

“We saw more from upstairs, too,” Beaver confirmed. “Maybe a dozen.”

Devine sighed, falling into an armchair as if she was a puppet whose strings’d just been cut. “Sounds about right.”

The coaches stared at each other as Sheppard whimpered in the corner; then Cohan spoke. “What do we do? Who here can cast a Patronus?” A few hands went up, including Jared’s and hers. “One strong enough to keep a dozen Dementors away? Corporeal Patronuses?” Every raised hand lowered, and Jared shut his eyes against the despair building in his chest. “Right then,” Cohan declared. “We’re fucked.”

“Maybe not,” Jared said, a sudden thought occurring to him. “Bunty!” he yelled out, and with a sharp, cracking sound, the Pride of Portee’s Visitor House’s house elf appeared before him.

“Yes, sir?”

“Bunty, we need your help, please.”

“Of course, sir. Bunty is at your service, sir.”

“Er…good.” Jared thought fast. “You wouldn’t be able to fight off Dementors, would you?”

“Sir?” The elf’s lower lip wobbled and his eyes got shiny and goggled even more than was usual for house elves. “Sir is wanting Bunty to fight the Dementors all alone?” There was a split second before Bunty wailed and threw himself at Jared’s feet. “Please, sir, don’t send Bunty out there with the nasty Dementors! Please, sir!”

“No!” Jared exclaimed, nearly tripping over Bunty’s prone body in his haste to get away from the grovelling little tyke. “I was just asking! We’d never expect you to fight off a dozen Dementors by yourself, Bunty!”

“A dozen, sir?” Bunty asked tremulously. Jared nodded, trying to look calmer than he was feeling, but the elf was shaking his head anxiously. “More than twelve, sir. More like thirty!”

Jared reined in his panic. “How do you know that?”

“Bunty knows,” Bunty assured him, and Jared was more than willing to take his word for it.

“Then we must send for help,” he said, thinking furiously, but when it came down to it, he really only had one choice. He pulled out his wand, conjured a piece of parchment into the palm of his hand, and got the Self-Inking Quill George’d given him on his last trip to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes from his pocket, scribbling down an address before he pressed it into Bunty’s hand. “There’s an Auror at this address who can help us. You must ask her to come quickly.”

“Yes, sir. Bunty will bring help, sir.”

“Thank you, Bunty. Go now, and hurry back!”

When Bunty Disapparated, Jared found everyone staring at him in awe, but it was Beaver who spoke. “You have contacts at the Auror Office?”

“There is no Auror Office anymore,” Jared told him. “But I do know some Order members; they’re the only ones who can help.”

“Well,” Cohan drawled, “I’m glad at least one of us has friends in high places.” She sighed and looked overwhelmed. “Still not sure how one Auror can fend off so many Dementors, but at least I’ll feel a bit safer right before I die.”

“Yeah,” Williams snorted. “It’s all good.”

A whole bunch of them chuckled, and the grave atmosphere in the room lightened considerably. Jared smiled. “Keep those happy thoughts going.”

“Good idea,” a wry male voice spoke from behind them, and all of them whirled around to face the newcomer, wands drawn.

“Remus!” Jared laughed in relief as soon as he recognised him, going to hug the man, and watching as a streak of white smoke curled into the space beside them as Tonks Apparated into the room. “Tonks!”

“Wotcher, Jared!” Tonks greeted him with a hug, her pregnant belly bumping into him before she did. Jared bit his lip in concern. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who else to call. The Weasleys are too far away,” Jared said, including Remus in his apology, but Tonks’ husband just shrugged and smiled. When Bunty materialized in the room a second later, bearing a big box of chocolate slabs in his skinny arms and then handing them out to everyone, Jared made quick work of the introductions.

“Well, we’re here to help, not to worry,” Tonks reassured everyone. “And don’t you be sorry, mate.” She punched Jared’s arm. “I’m just glad you thought of us. Thirty-odd Dementors is a feat not even Remus and I can take on by ourselves, but we’ve sent word to the ADU.”

Jared frowned. “The ADU?”

“Used to be the Anti-Dementor Unit of the Auror Office,” Remus explained. “Now they work with the Order.”

Tonks snorted. “They’re the happiest bunch of witches and wizards you’ll ever meet. Wonky, too, the lot of them.”

Jared and the rest of the Falcons gaped at each other in disbelief - surely their very survival didn’t rest in the hands and wands of a bunch of weird wizards? - but before any of them could comment, the room filled with dense silvery-grey streaks of smoke. Jared’s pulse spiked in fear as seven cloaked and hooded figures appeared before them, every one of them bearing wands and large metallic shields of black and silver festooned with a whorl of silver smoke coiling in on itself in an unending, mesmerizing spiral.

“Oh, excellent!” Jared heard Tonks exclaim beside him, but he paid her no mind, his eyes fixed on the Aurors in front of him as they whipped off their hoods as one, because suddenly, after more than two bloody years, he found himself, once again, face to face with Jensen.



Time stopped.

Jared was sure of it. He’d never experienced the like, but he was certain that this - as if the very flow of blood through his veins had ceased - was exactly what it felt like, and even though he wanted to yell and scream and pound Jensen into the floor with his fists and then pick him up and hug all the breath from his body, he found that he was frozen as he and Jensen stared at each other in shock.

Then, of course, Jensen went and opened his big, bloody mouth.

“Hello, Hufflepuff.”

Jared punched him in his pretty face, broke his nose, fixed it with an Episkey, and then punched him again, splitting his lip this time. Before he was quite done, he had the six wands of Jensen’s fellow Aurors pointed in his face, all of them practically frothing at the mouth in anger as Jensen held them off. Jared sneered and shrugged nonchalantly. “The Dementors made me do it.”

To his eternal surprise, Jensen chuckled. “I see your bristly Badger spirit has finally come into its own.” He waved a hand at his companions. “Stand down.”

“Wotcher, Jensen,” Tonks greeted after an incredibly awkward few seconds of silence wherein Jared refused to say a word; Jensen finally turned his gaze towards her and the rest of the room.

“Tonks, Remus.” He smiled and tucked his wand into the back of his shield before he hugged them both. “Falcons!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Wasn’t Quidditch season cancelled?”

Beaver looked like he was battling shock along with his disbelief. “It’s been on again, off again. It was on when we got here yesterday. Now, I’m assuming, it’s off.”

Jensen nodded, obviously not sure what to make of that news. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“The rest quit,” Williams spat with a pointed look at his former Beater; no need to ask how he’d felt about that. “You started a trend, pal!”

“Er… Right. Extenuating circumstances.” Jensen cleared his throat and looked to Tonks and Remus. “You mentioned a Dementor problem?”

Before Tonks could say a word, Jared found his voice. “You’re an Auror?”

“Yes,” Jensen replied, turning all his attention on Jared, as if he’d just been waiting for him to speak; it was more than a bit disconcerting to have that clear, green-eyed gaze so focused on him.

“Something else you did in your spare time?” Jensen shrugged and Jared seethed. “And you’re not in Australia?”

“No. Very observant, by the way.”

Jared ignored the sarcasm, because if he hadn’t he would’ve punched Jensen again. “You were here this whole time?”

“Not exactly.”

“How long have you been in England then?”

“Technically, we’re in Scotland,” Jensen quipped, grimacing as Jared gave him a withering glare.

“And you never told me.” Jensen opened his mouth, but Jared cut him off with a raised hand. “I went out of my mind when I didn’t hear from you! That ruddy owl you sent me wouldn’t even take a message out to you!”

“Because I had no choice!”

“You always had a choice! You just didn’t choose me.” Jared’s nostrils flared as he let that bit of information sink into Jensen’s thick skull. “I suggest you get on with it then. What you came here to do.” He stared at Jensen with the same resolute focus that Jensen directed at him. “And afterwards? You can leave again. Do what you do best and fuck off!”

“Oi!” The burliest of Jensen’s companions rounded on Jared, snarling. “That’s enough, lad! We’re Aurors with the Order of the Phoenix! You will show us the respect we deserve!”

Jensen sighed. “Stand down, Fuller. I know him - he can talk to me any way he likes.”

Jared growled at Jensen. “Or maybe he won’t talk to you at all, you rat bastard!”

Fuller whipped his wand out again, and Jensen put a hand out. “Kurt! I said stand down!”

“Not that this reunion isn’t…fascinating,” Remus ventured warily, “but let’s not forget the horde of Dementors we’ve yet to deal with.”

Tonks smacked her husband in the chest with the back of her hand. “Jared is totally justified in his anger!”

“And Jensen had an equally justifiable reason to leave,” Remus argued.

“Yes, but he came back and didn’t tell Jared. That’s the very definition of a prat move, darling.”

Remus snorted. “Right. A prat move. It’d nothing to do with the fact that he was sworn to secrecy by the Order! He took an oath! Dear.”

Tonks sniffed, impassive on Jared’s behalf. “Well, be that as it may…”

“There’s no ‘may’ about it!” Remus disputed, fully on Jensen’s side. “That’s the way it was! Those were the rules!”

“Rules are meant to be broken,” Tonks insisted, “or at least bent a bit.”

“No - rules are there for a reason.”

“Yes, do tell, Mr. Moony, since you seem to know so bloody much about always abiding by the rules!” Tonks retorted, narrowing her eyes at her husband who huffed in exasperation. Jared and Jensen stared at them, agape, before looking at each other again.

“Right,” Jensen said, sounding wryly amused. “Jared and I may not be married yet, but we can out-bicker the both of you any day, so if we could have our argument back? Cheers.”

Jared squinted at Tonks. “How do you two know so much about us?”

“Er…” Tonks looked anything but innocent; in fact, both her hair and her face turned bright pink. “Jensen may or may not have asked us to keep an eye on you.”

Sudden comprehension dawned on Jared. “Which is why…”

“I introduced myself to you at Dumbledore’s funeral,” she confirmed. This, of course, left Jared glowering at Jensen.

“Jared, please, babe…” Jensen pleaded softly.

Jared sputtered as the term of endearment spiked his heart rate. “Don’t you babe me!”

“I love you!”

Hope exploded in his chest, but he quashed it down ruthlessly. “Well, I…don’t…anymore.”

“That’s a lie.”

Jared couldn’t argue with that. “Well, I sure as hell don’t like you!”

“Oh.” Jared tried to ignore the absolutely gutted look on Jensen’s face. “Right.” Jensen drew in a quavering breath. “We’ll just be going then.”

As Jensen turned to his companions, Fuller threw up his hands in disgust. “You can’t go into battle against Dementors looking like someone just killed your puppy, Ackles,” he shouted, glaring at Jared over Jensen’s shoulder. “You! So you’re the infamous Jared, eh? And to think, I used to condone his psychotic, irrational, erotic obsession with you, because, by Merlin, I did not need to know that!” Fuller spat as Jared’s eyes goggled and Jensen buried his face in his free hand and groaned. “Whatever makes him happiest, I used to say! And now, here you are, sucking the life out of him like you’re in league with those Dark devils outside!”

Jared’s jaw dropped as another of Jensen’s team, a thin, pasty, scruffy bloke Jared could’ve probably picked up with his little finger, grinned at him. “Jared, eh? Somehow, I thought you’d be taller in person. You look a lot bigger in the picture Ackles carries around with him.”

Jared did a double take as Jensen gawked at his fellow Auror. “Shut it, Qualls! And how much taller do you want him to be? He’s already as big as bloody Yeti!” Jensen blinked and turned to give Jared a slow (and appraising) once over. “Seriously though, babe. You’ve gotten a lot bigger than you were before,” he whispered in awe, a stupid, lovesick look on his face that was absolutely not adorable. There were quite a few hushed snorts and giggles around them; Jensen shook his head as if to clear it. “Jared, Fuller’s got a point. It’s just that…well, I can’t do this unhappy.”

“You what?”

“I need to be happy to do this job well, and you just essentially broke my heart; that’s problematic in my current profession.”

Jared sputtered in disbelief. “Are you mad?”

“About you? Yes. Always.” Jensen smiled ruefully. “So it’d be really great if you could just forgive me, so we can kiss and make up, and I can go do my job and not get dead.”

“No, seriously,” Jared insisted. “Did Dementors dent your brain or something? It’s taking all my self control just to be in the same room as you right now!”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“You said you’d wait for me,” Jensen growled, finally letting his frustration show. “It’s not my fault I took your word for it!”

“Yeah, wait. For a few months, maybe!” Jared shouted. “It’s been two years, six months and twenty-five - no, twenty-six, now - days!”

“Oh,” Jensen said softly, his eyes lighting up a little.

Jared pointed a finger in his face, warning him off. “Stop looking so hopeful!”

“Stop giving me hope, then.”

And there you had it, Jared mused: this was the very essence of them. Because while Jared’d been trying to keep his anger alive, and Jensen’d increasingly looked like all the joy was being siphoned right out of him, all Jared could feel was the soul-deep glow of happiness that’d started like the flicker of a firefly in his chest when Jensen’d appeared before him, older and still gorgeous and more beloved than ever, and by now, it’d grown, and it felt like Fiendfyre racing through his body.

There was no way any judicial system, Muggle or Magical, would hold him accountable for his actions.

He grabbed Jensen and kissed him, hard and bruising and brutally perfect - his kiss both a brand and a punishment - before he pulled away and stared into stunned green eyes. Jared leaned in close and snarled. “You leave me again and I will do things to you that make dealing with Dementors seem like a Sunday stroll in the park, do I make myself clear?”

“As a crystal ball,” Jensen breathed, and then he blinked. “Er…you know, before it fills with smoke and visions and…stuff.”

Jared closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Just go kill some Dementors. And come back to me in one piece.” He sighed, cupping Jensen’s face in his hands and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his plump mouth. “And I’ll wait. Always. Every time. For an eternity if I have to.”

“Right.” Jensen cleared his throat, looking like he wouldn’t leave if You-Know-Who himself showed up to drag him away. “And I will always come back to you.”

“See that you do.” A thought occurred to Jared. “Wait, can you kill a Dementor?”

“We’re working on it,” Jensen said, still blinking up at him as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune. He held up his shield. “In the mean time, we drive them away.”