Weasley and Weatherby

Weasley and Weatherby

by Icarus

Ron's eyes were deadly serious. And, Draco knew, he was feeling quite dangerous at the moment. He couldn't blame him.

"Do you think he's done it?" Ron asked softly, oh-so-softly. Yes. Draco knew that voice from when Ron was particularly angry. It was time to take cover.

Draco cautiously didn't say anything for a moment. He didn't want to attract Ron's ire to himself for one thing. He wasn't a fool. But the line of Ron's mouth hardened, a subtle sign his temper was about to break, so he answered -- if only to be sure Ron remembered it was Lucius Malfoy who'd done this to his brother.

"I think it likely."

He had really debated telling Ron at all, but once Percy had joined their little rebellion Ron had to know the ways Lucius might have compromised their 'partner.' It would have been better if Percy had stayed out of it altogether.

"Invite him over tonight. There will be a keyword of some kind, a trigger." Draco sighed in relief as Ron relaxed somewhat and clearly set his fury aside for later.

~*~*~

Promptly at half past six, there was a knock at the door. Draco answered it, while Ron fussed over dinner. If he was right, it was probably best if Ron missed the first part of this. Knowing his father, it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Good evening, Percy." Draco gave him a falsely bright smile and tried his first guess. "Marvolo." Nothing happened.

"What? Um, good evening. I think." A puzzled frown crossed Percy's face.

Oh. This was going to be harder than he had expected. "A fine night, isn't it? Riddle."

Percy squinted at him as he pulled off his outer robe and stepped into the sitting room. "Yes, it is, I suppose."

"Fabrege, Cartier. Gaudin, Gustave Dore, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse." Draco threw out a long string of guesses, which he realised was a tactical error, as he wouldn't know which triggered it. But nothing happened.

"Excuse me?" Percy draped the robe across their ugly little couch. The robe was of a rather fine cloth, imported; though probably Percy didn't know that. Gifts from Lucius were an almost certain sign Draco's suspicions were correct. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Has Lucius given you many things? Besides that robe?" He nodded in its direction and folded his arms.

"I don't see that it's any of your business, but yes," Percy said, giving him a steady, appraising glance. "There's that Muggle painting in my flat you saw..."

Yes. 'A' Muggle painting of course, just any painting. A Van Gogh, probably left over from the looting back in Grindelwald's days in Germany. Percy was an ignorant, uncouth commoner not to recognize what he had; every now and then even primitive Muggles produced something of rare beauty. It was something Lucius would only give to one of his favourite 'pets,' and it had been Draco's first clue there might be a problem.

"...some bath soaps -- he said the Ministry issued soap was too harsh on fair skin --"

"He complained about your skin?"

This was bad, very bad.

Percy shrugged. "He just said it was drying out, that I should take better care of myself. The sheets were from him, too."

"Let me guess. Silk satin, probably a three-hundred thread count." Draco's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Ron stepped into the room, wiping his hands on the apron. "What are you on about, Draco?"

"He's complaining about my sheets."

Ron's eyes shifted to Draco uncomfortably. "Sheets? What does that mean?" His face was anxious.

Draco shook his head and tried another guess. "Red-haired Idiot."

"Hey -!" Percy squawked. "You have no call to insult --" They ignored the complaint.

"Red-haired Idiot? What was that?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"It would be something specific to Percy, that wouldn't be said accidentally." Draco shrugged. "And probably insulting, given my father."

"Now see here, I didn't come to be called names, and if you can't be civil I will just leave."

Draco ignored his indignation. "It was all I could think of. I'm fresh out of guesses."

"Specific to Percy?" Ron asked, while Percy glanced between them in confusion. He stared off in the distance, eyes suddenly glazed with recognition. "I know what it is."

"What what is? You two are acting very --"

Ron said, "Weatherby."

Percy suddenly cried out, a strangled animal wail, and collapsed with a thump to the floor. His arms were stretched out along the carpet, wrists together as if held by unseen bonds. He squirmed helplessly and turned back towards them, eyes wide with fear.

"Sir... I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to --"He blinked up at them, suddenly aware of his surroundings. "How... did I get here?"

Draco ignored that question. "What just happened to you a moment ago?" He meant, of course, from Percy's perspective.

Percy crumpled. "I'm dressed. How did you do that? Where's Lucius?"

"What happened?" he pressed.

"Lucius..." Percy whimpered. "It's no more than I deserve." He licked his lips and wouldn't say anything more; his eyes studied the floor. He sat up and let his wrists separate as if he'd just realized he was no longer tied up. "Where is -? This is Ron's flat." His scanned the room fearfully as if searching for someone, then his shoulders gently relaxed.

"Percy. You need to listen to me carefully." He squatted down next to Percy and Draco's eyes bored into his, trying to get the confused man to focus. "You are leading a double life. Lucius has partitioned your memory with the Pars Divinanum enchantment."

"Divinanum? He can't do that. It's illegal." Percy got an odd look on his face as if he suddenly realised this was a moronic statement. "Or at least... it used to be." Of course, from Percy's point of view he'd probably just teleported from the middle of who-knew-what. He was an annoying prick, but not normally this simple.

"What has he been doing to you?!" Ron exploded. Percy's hands covered his face. Whatever it was, it was bad.

"Shush, Ron, stop. That doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!"

"It doesn't! Now, stop it! You're confusing him."

Percy curled against the couch and asked plaintively from behind his hands. "Could someone please tell me what's going on?"

Draco swallowed. He was not proud to be related to Lucius Malfoy at the moment. Ron's eyes blazed, but he held his peace.

"There are things in this life that you don't remember in the other. And there are things in the other that you don't remember in this one," Draco explained carefully. "We have no way of knowing which of you we're dealing with at any given time. You need to know this in both of your lives. If this goes on too long, your personality will develop along two separate lines, until integration is nearly impossible." Best to be honest and hit him with it cleanly so he could deal with it in his own way. "In the other life you have certain... things... that must be kept private." Now was the important part, since Percy had already been let in on their plan to attack the Ministry from the inside. Hopefully they hadn't told this Percy anything. "Are you able to keep anything private from Lucius? Right now?"

The look Percy gave him was wide open and fearful, and answered his question even before he shook his head. His normal arrogance, so evident before that keyword, had completely evaporated. This Percy had little left. "I don't... no. I don't think so. Please. Whatever it is, don't tell me."

And that was quite something, that Percy still had enough will left to say even that much. It was remarkable, in fact. These Weasleys were made of tough stuff. But he wasn't about to make it harder for Percy. "It's nothing really. Just that Ron and I are... together."

Percy sagged against the couch with a sigh of relief. "Oh. Thank goodness; he already knows that."

Draco nodded distractedly and glanced over to see how Ron was taking this. He'd been awfully quiet. His face was frozen, his eyes dark and lips slightly parted as though there was something he couldn't quite say. "Now. Lucius stops you mid-scene, well, because the bastard finds it entertaining. But he also does it so he can tell if anyone has tampered with you. So I need you to put your wrists together and stretch out like you were before, and start apologizing for whatever it was, though it's likely not your fault. Do you need a rest first?"

Percy shook his head briefly. "Not now. It wasn't too bad this time, I think he was a little distracted." Draco began to speak but Percy grabbed his arm before he could say anything. "Promise me one thing? Bring me back, from time to time. Please. I need to know there's something else." Draco swallowed and nodded, and Percy stretched out the way they'd found him and began apologizing...

"Weatherby."

Ron shut his eyes.

"What am I -" Percy blinked, looked around. His confident, imperious manner had returned in spades. Yes. Lucius would need him like that, unbroken, for his job as his personal assistant at the Death Eater Ministry. Or prison, which was the more honest term, even if light-security prisoners did handle the drudgery of running the country, pushing quills and endless paperwork. "You two have been acting really strange this evening. How did my clothes get so sweaty, and what in hell's name am I doing on the floor?"

Draco looked at Ron, who was slowly shaking his head in horror. "Percy. We have something to explain to you. I know it's going to be difficult to believe..."

Finis.