WISHLISTS: The Secrets We Keep (Percy/Audrey)
Title: The Secrets We Keep
Pairing: Percy/Audrey with Aberforth Dumbledore as unlikely matchmaker! Sort of.
Request: You know me, you know my secrets
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1492, I don't know why this got so long! :(
Summary: Looking for a way to fight back, Percy finds more than that.
Author's Notes: Apparently, I liked this prompt a whole lot! I hope you like the story, hondagirll.
TRAITORS!
Three Ministry Employees Caught Aiding and Abetting Criminals! Fourth Still At Large.
Percy stared at the three familiar faces. Milford Mayweather - the nebbish man from the Floo Network Authority who had once talked his ear off about his coin collection - Kissed. Next to his picture was that of Sophia Greengrass-Drachenblutt. She had worked for the Azkaban Oversight Division. He had been to her office only once but he remembered the pictures on her desk of her husband and baby daughter. Beside her was a picture of Edgar Preece, a long-time friend of his father. Preece had taken Percy out for lunch when he had started at the Ministry. Knowing that he would be working with Umbridge on the Muggle-born Registration Committee had given Percy hope that it would be fair, that justice would be served.
Both he and Drachenblutt had “died in questioning.” Much the same way Scrimgeour had “resigned.”
Tossing the paper into the fire, he paced about the room. He was tired of standing by helpless while everyone around him had picked their side, he was tired of waiting for a signal that might never come. The wild, giddy idea of just walking into work tomorrow morning and hexing every Death Eater he saw tempted him. He would never it do it though, he knew that. Charlie might. Fred and George would, they'd get as many at once with some hexing bomb they invented just for that purpose. Percy was certain even his dad had to restrain himself from going after the likes of Yaxley and Runcorn.
Not him though. No, he would go in tomorrow, do as he was told and come back to his flat at night and swallow down the impotent fury with large gulps of Firewhiskey.
So lost in these thoughts was he, that Percy was nearly knocked off his feet by the silvery goat Patronus that leapt from his fireplace.
“If you were serious about wanting to help, meet me behind the Hog's Head in an hour.”
***
Aberforth thrusted a two-way mirror into his hands. “Your contact will have the other half. They'll get in touch with you first. Don't ask too many questions of them and stick to whatever they ask of you. Don't overreach. If they don't get in touch with you within the next three days, come talk to me. If your contact ever changes and you haven't heard anything from me about it first, it's a trap - don't tell them anything. What's your name going to be?”
“My - my what?” Percy blinked in confusion, overwhelmed by the information.
“And I heard you were the smart one,” the barkeeper scoffed. “Your name, son, your name. A fake one, you can't very well give them your real one, can you?”
His mind drew a blank and Percy blurted the first thing that came to him. “Galahad.”
There was a long silence then Aberforth mumbled something that might have been, “God help us.”
“All right, Galahad. Keep that on you at all times. You'll be waiting for a Sabrina to get in touch with you. If she does, go somewhere private before you talk to her. If someone who is not Sabrina tries to contact you, don't answer. Got it?”
“Right. Got it.”
***
It happened on Tuesday morning while he was walking down the halls of the Ministry. The soft, feminine voice calling “Galahad” from the left pocket of his trousers caused him to startle before he caught himself. Calmly walking towards the supply closest as if voices from his trousers was an everyday occurrence, he slipped inside and pulled out the mirror. Like Aberforth had told him, he didn't look into it, turning it to the side to protect his identity before speaking.
“Here. It's Galahad. I'm here.”
“Good.” What he first noticed about her voice wasn't how pleasant it was (though it was) but the accent. She sounded like she might be American or Canadian, he wasn't certain.
“You're not British,” he said, wincing as soon as the words left his mouth. Don't ask too many questions of them!
There was a long silence and Percy worried he had ruined everything before he had even started. “Sorry, I just - sorry. What do you need?”
“ I need a list of people who will be tried before the Muggle-born Registration Committee starting next week. Can you do that?”
“I'll try. What about the people being brought in this week?” Or the ones already in Azkaban for that matter.
Realizing he had once again asked more than he should, Percy apologized.
“Just get me that list, ok?”
***
“You don't think the whole damn Continent has its eyes on us right now? Or the whole Wizarding world for that matter?” Aberforth said as he poured slop for the goats milling around out back. “The French and Germans are talking containment, the Americans haven't decided whether or not they want to invade yet and we've been trying to convince the Russians to stay out of it.”
Percy thought this over, yanking his robes from the mouth of one curious goat. Most foreign wizards had been ordered out of the country in September, aside from a select few who had “special permission” to stay. Those who hadn't listened and lacked that permission were accused of spying, stripped of their visas, and thrown in Azkaban when caught. “She asked me for a list of Muggle-borns--”
The older wizard turned quickly, holding up a hand to quell him. “Stop right there. Don't tell me.”
“But--”
“I don't need to know. If I know too much and they catch me, it could jeopardize a lot of missions. Just try to do whatever they ask.”
***
He did what was asked of him, updating Sabrina whenever he had some new information. It was never much. Dozens of Muggle-borns and others with “questionable heritage” were dragged before the Committee each week but at most he only ever had a few names to pass along.
It bothered him that he couldn't do more.
“It's enough,” Sabrina told him when he mentioned this. “You have to believe that.”
“Why are you doing this?” Knowing he had once again stepped over the line, he barreled on anyway, his curiosity overtaking his common sense. “You could have left. Gone home and forgotten about all this. Why stay?”
He expected her to tell him that he was asking too many questions again.
“Because I could. Because I wanted to do something and when I saw my chance, I took it.”
Later, Percy realized that was the answer he would have given if asked.
***
By late April he was ready to give up hope. His family had gone into hiding after his brother was spotted with Potter and the Burrow had ransacked by Death Eaters. Percy had heard them talk, laugh about it in the halls of the Ministry. He had never before thought he was capable of holding the kind of blind hatred that filled him then.
They had questioned him about their whereabouts, several times, both formally and informally. Telling them he didn't know and lying to them about what he did know had helped, made him feel better about being rendered useless once again.
Sabrina hadn't contacted him in over a month. He had asked Aberforth about it one night and was met with an indifferent shrug. “Maybe she ran into trouble.”
Percy didn't give the mirror back and Aberforth didn't ask.
***
It's been three months since the final battle, three months since they buried his younger brother. Today was an awards ceremony-slash-memorial for all those who had fought and those who had died. Percy had been asked to give a speech and despite not knowing what to say, he did.
As he spoke, he locked eyes with one witch in the audience. She was about his age, with sandy blonde hair and light eyes, pretty. He couldn't recall ever having met her but she seemed familiar to him all the same.
His speech done, he shook hands with Kingsley and the others before exiting the stage. When a soft, familiar voice called from the pocket of his trousers, he had to grip the banister so he wouldn't fall down the stairs in shock.
Out of habit, he racked his mind for somewhere private to go before answering until he remembered that he didn't have to do that anymore. The war was over, they had won.
“Sabrina?” he said into the mirror and his shoulders slumped when he was greeted with silence.
“I'm here.” Percy's head snapped up to see the sandy-haired woman from the audience holding a two-way mirror identical to his own in her hand.
“It's nice to meet you, Percy Weasley,” she extended her hand to him with a smile. “I don't think we've met, I'm Audrey Bergeron.”
Pairing: Percy/Audrey with Aberforth Dumbledore as unlikely matchmaker! Sort of.
Request: You know me, you know my secrets
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1492, I don't know why this got so long! :(
Summary: Looking for a way to fight back, Percy finds more than that.
Author's Notes: Apparently, I liked this prompt a whole lot! I hope you like the story, hondagirll.
TRAITORS!
Three Ministry Employees Caught Aiding and Abetting Criminals! Fourth Still At Large.
Percy stared at the three familiar faces. Milford Mayweather - the nebbish man from the Floo Network Authority who had once talked his ear off about his coin collection - Kissed. Next to his picture was that of Sophia Greengrass-Drachenblutt. She had worked for the Azkaban Oversight Division. He had been to her office only once but he remembered the pictures on her desk of her husband and baby daughter. Beside her was a picture of Edgar Preece, a long-time friend of his father. Preece had taken Percy out for lunch when he had started at the Ministry. Knowing that he would be working with Umbridge on the Muggle-born Registration Committee had given Percy hope that it would be fair, that justice would be served.
Both he and Drachenblutt had “died in questioning.” Much the same way Scrimgeour had “resigned.”
Tossing the paper into the fire, he paced about the room. He was tired of standing by helpless while everyone around him had picked their side, he was tired of waiting for a signal that might never come. The wild, giddy idea of just walking into work tomorrow morning and hexing every Death Eater he saw tempted him. He would never it do it though, he knew that. Charlie might. Fred and George would, they'd get as many at once with some hexing bomb they invented just for that purpose. Percy was certain even his dad had to restrain himself from going after the likes of Yaxley and Runcorn.
Not him though. No, he would go in tomorrow, do as he was told and come back to his flat at night and swallow down the impotent fury with large gulps of Firewhiskey.
So lost in these thoughts was he, that Percy was nearly knocked off his feet by the silvery goat Patronus that leapt from his fireplace.
“If you were serious about wanting to help, meet me behind the Hog's Head in an hour.”
***
Aberforth thrusted a two-way mirror into his hands. “Your contact will have the other half. They'll get in touch with you first. Don't ask too many questions of them and stick to whatever they ask of you. Don't overreach. If they don't get in touch with you within the next three days, come talk to me. If your contact ever changes and you haven't heard anything from me about it first, it's a trap - don't tell them anything. What's your name going to be?”
“My - my what?” Percy blinked in confusion, overwhelmed by the information.
“And I heard you were the smart one,” the barkeeper scoffed. “Your name, son, your name. A fake one, you can't very well give them your real one, can you?”
His mind drew a blank and Percy blurted the first thing that came to him. “Galahad.”
There was a long silence then Aberforth mumbled something that might have been, “God help us.”
“All right, Galahad. Keep that on you at all times. You'll be waiting for a Sabrina to get in touch with you. If she does, go somewhere private before you talk to her. If someone who is not Sabrina tries to contact you, don't answer. Got it?”
“Right. Got it.”
***
It happened on Tuesday morning while he was walking down the halls of the Ministry. The soft, feminine voice calling “Galahad” from the left pocket of his trousers caused him to startle before he caught himself. Calmly walking towards the supply closest as if voices from his trousers was an everyday occurrence, he slipped inside and pulled out the mirror. Like Aberforth had told him, he didn't look into it, turning it to the side to protect his identity before speaking.
“Here. It's Galahad. I'm here.”
“Good.” What he first noticed about her voice wasn't how pleasant it was (though it was) but the accent. She sounded like she might be American or Canadian, he wasn't certain.
“You're not British,” he said, wincing as soon as the words left his mouth. Don't ask too many questions of them!
There was a long silence and Percy worried he had ruined everything before he had even started. “Sorry, I just - sorry. What do you need?”
“ I need a list of people who will be tried before the Muggle-born Registration Committee starting next week. Can you do that?”
“I'll try. What about the people being brought in this week?” Or the ones already in Azkaban for that matter.
Realizing he had once again asked more than he should, Percy apologized.
“Just get me that list, ok?”
***
“You don't think the whole damn Continent has its eyes on us right now? Or the whole Wizarding world for that matter?” Aberforth said as he poured slop for the goats milling around out back. “The French and Germans are talking containment, the Americans haven't decided whether or not they want to invade yet and we've been trying to convince the Russians to stay out of it.”
Percy thought this over, yanking his robes from the mouth of one curious goat. Most foreign wizards had been ordered out of the country in September, aside from a select few who had “special permission” to stay. Those who hadn't listened and lacked that permission were accused of spying, stripped of their visas, and thrown in Azkaban when caught. “She asked me for a list of Muggle-borns--”
The older wizard turned quickly, holding up a hand to quell him. “Stop right there. Don't tell me.”
“But--”
“I don't need to know. If I know too much and they catch me, it could jeopardize a lot of missions. Just try to do whatever they ask.”
***
He did what was asked of him, updating Sabrina whenever he had some new information. It was never much. Dozens of Muggle-borns and others with “questionable heritage” were dragged before the Committee each week but at most he only ever had a few names to pass along.
It bothered him that he couldn't do more.
“It's enough,” Sabrina told him when he mentioned this. “You have to believe that.”
“Why are you doing this?” Knowing he had once again stepped over the line, he barreled on anyway, his curiosity overtaking his common sense. “You could have left. Gone home and forgotten about all this. Why stay?”
He expected her to tell him that he was asking too many questions again.
“Because I could. Because I wanted to do something and when I saw my chance, I took it.”
Later, Percy realized that was the answer he would have given if asked.
***
By late April he was ready to give up hope. His family had gone into hiding after his brother was spotted with Potter and the Burrow had ransacked by Death Eaters. Percy had heard them talk, laugh about it in the halls of the Ministry. He had never before thought he was capable of holding the kind of blind hatred that filled him then.
They had questioned him about their whereabouts, several times, both formally and informally. Telling them he didn't know and lying to them about what he did know had helped, made him feel better about being rendered useless once again.
Sabrina hadn't contacted him in over a month. He had asked Aberforth about it one night and was met with an indifferent shrug. “Maybe she ran into trouble.”
Percy didn't give the mirror back and Aberforth didn't ask.
***
It's been three months since the final battle, three months since they buried his younger brother. Today was an awards ceremony-slash-memorial for all those who had fought and those who had died. Percy had been asked to give a speech and despite not knowing what to say, he did.
As he spoke, he locked eyes with one witch in the audience. She was about his age, with sandy blonde hair and light eyes, pretty. He couldn't recall ever having met her but she seemed familiar to him all the same.
His speech done, he shook hands with Kingsley and the others before exiting the stage. When a soft, familiar voice called from the pocket of his trousers, he had to grip the banister so he wouldn't fall down the stairs in shock.
Out of habit, he racked his mind for somewhere private to go before answering until he remembered that he didn't have to do that anymore. The war was over, they had won.
“Sabrina?” he said into the mirror and his shoulders slumped when he was greeted with silence.
“I'm here.” Percy's head snapped up to see the sandy-haired woman from the audience holding a two-way mirror identical to his own in her hand.
“It's nice to meet you, Percy Weasley,” she extended her hand to him with a smile. “I don't think we've met, I'm Audrey Bergeron.”