Percival was lying in bed, his back pressed up against the wall, wand tucked beneath his pillow. He had struggled to sleep for the first few hours, mind full of thoughts of Grindelwald, of why he had chosen to give him Credence. He needed to get the other man to a legilimens, ensure that he wasn’t some kind of trap. He could feel Grindelwald’s curses ripping through him when he closed his eyes.
But the Director of Magical Security for MACUSA needed to be at the top of his game, and that meant he needed to rest. He would have to sleep. He couldn’t let himself get tired, because it would mean he thought slower, moved slower. Even when he had been imprisoned he had kept up a certain routine, exercising while Grindelwald was working, and then making himself sleep. He could hardly allow the routine to slip now that he was free, just because there was someone else in the house. This was his home. He couldn’t let Grindelwald taint it, either by his own actions or by this parting gift.
He slept, not because he wanted to but because he had to. His mind was filled with dreams of his aurors lying bleeding and broken, with Grindelwald wearing his face to destroy the world, to witnessing him choking the life from Seraphina. He didn’t scream. But he didn’t take a sleeping draught either. The thought of being too deeply into sleep was unbearable. He had to be able to wake up again. He lay on top of the covers, unable to stand their weight on him. It felt too much like being trapped, being pinned down again and unable to defend himself as his memories and secrets were torn away.
So he got what rest he could, when the nightmares weren’t so terrible that they woke him, and hoped it would be enough to keep him going for a little longer. He couldn’t let his aurors know he was struggling. If they thought he was weak, they might try and say something to the President, to force him to have more time off. Percival couldn’t think of anything worse.
He didn’t wake immediately as a weight joined him on the bed. Even he could only last a short time without sleep, and he was deep enough in unconsciousness to not notice as his pants were carefully slid down, his underwear unbuttoned. He began to wake at the sensation of hot breath against his cock, a shy tongue brushing over the tip. He could hear Grindelwald’s laughter in his mind, telling him that he knew he had unnatural desires, wondering if he was so repressed that he had never given into them. Grindelwald had never made good on those threats, but that seemed to be changing now. A slight flex of his wrist proved to him that for the moment, the bindings had been released.
He kicked out and brought up his fist in the same motion, slamming into the face of the man who was assaulting him. He threw out his magic, pushing the other figure away from him and against the wall, and sat up in bed, one hand keeping the man pressed to the far wall as the other reached for his wand. He wasn’t sure where he was or what was happening, heart racing. He gulped for air.
The room around him slowly came into focus, lit both by the light filtering through the curtain and the fire in his living room. The No-Maj boy was pinned to the wall by Percival’s magic, gasping and squirming, eyes wide in silent terror, as though he had seen the devil himself. Percival glanced down, seeing that his underwear had been undone. He fumbled to close it again. Adrenaline coursed through him but he tried to reconstruct what had happened.
The young man, Credence, had climbed into his bed. He had tried to pleasure him, and Percival had lashed out. Realising that, he dropped his magic, and saw Credence fall to the floor, panting for air. He tried to ignore the way the boy’s hand flicked in a movement he had seen before from No-Majs when things happened they couldn’t understand. “Credence?” “Mister Graves?” The young man asked nervously, blinking back tears. “Is something wrong?” “I don’t think you should do that again…” Percival answered, getting to his feet. He walked over towards Credence, studying the way the skin was reddening. His nose was broken. Percival sighed, reaching out and pointing his wand towards Credence’s face.
“Episkey.” Credence flinched away, but Percival watched as his nose reshaped. Credence’s hand darted up to touch the healed injury. “How-?” Credence gasped, and Percival shook his head, walking over to the bathroom and picking up a tube of bruise removal paste. “Credence...” Percival said softly. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”
***
“I’m sorry.” Credence whispered, shivering as Mister Graves smoothed the yellow gunk over where he had been punched. He was still trying to gasp for air, remembering how he had been trapped against the wall. He looked at his husband nervously, his head bowed. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be thrown out from this place. He was confused, uncertain. “Ma…Ma said that was how you wanted me to wake you. Did… did I do it wrong?”
“Not wrong.” Mister Graves said. “I just don’t want to be woken like that. Not now. Not…” He shook his head, and Credence felt his face heat up. “I’m sorry.” “Me too.” His husband said firmly, dropping his hand from Credence’s cheek. “Is there any other injury?” “No.” Credence admitted. “You… you fixed it.”
“There’s a lot I need to tell you.” His husband admitted. Credence shook his head minutely. “You… you helped me.” He murmured, ashamed. “Even though I… I messed up.” “You still deserve to get healed.” Mister Graves answered after a moment. “Just because you make a mistake doesn’t mean that you should get hurt for it.”
That was harder for Credence to believe than the way Mister Graves had fixed his nose. He’d failed his husband again. “I need to go to work.” Mister Graves answered. “We can talk… we will talk when I get back.” “I…” Credence swallowed, and looked up at him. “I made you lunch.” He walked from the bedroom, picking up the meal he had prepared. “I could make breakfast if you… if you would like?”
“Not now Credence.” His husband said quickly. “I have to go to work. Make breakfast for yourself. Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave the house today, do you understand? Not until we’ve talked.” “Yes sir.”
His husband smiled. “Thank you for the lunch Credence.” He walked out of the door, and Credence saw the bolts slide home. He was locked in. He knew his husband had thrown him against the wall. He knew the fire hadn’t burned down. He knew his husband had healed his nose.
He didn’t know what his husband was, but he knew he was still married to him, that he would stand by his side. His husband was showing him kindness, even after Credence had made a mistake with waking him up. He went to make himself breakfast like Mister Graves had said.
He was locked in the house, with nothing to do but wait and try to find a way to solve his mistakes. He went to the bathroom, observing his face in the mirror. The bruise was already fading.
Fill: Broken and Kept (Part 6/?)
But the Director of Magical Security for MACUSA needed to be at the top of his game, and that meant he needed to rest. He would have to sleep. He couldn’t let himself get tired, because it would mean he thought slower, moved slower. Even when he had been imprisoned he had kept up a certain routine, exercising while Grindelwald was working, and then making himself sleep. He could hardly allow the routine to slip now that he was free, just because there was someone else in the house. This was his home. He couldn’t let Grindelwald taint it, either by his own actions or by this parting gift.
He slept, not because he wanted to but because he had to. His mind was filled with dreams of his aurors lying bleeding and broken, with Grindelwald wearing his face to destroy the world, to witnessing him choking the life from Seraphina. He didn’t scream. But he didn’t take a sleeping draught either. The thought of being too deeply into sleep was unbearable. He had to be able to wake up again. He lay on top of the covers, unable to stand their weight on him. It felt too much like being trapped, being pinned down again and unable to defend himself as his memories and secrets were torn away.
So he got what rest he could, when the nightmares weren’t so terrible that they woke him, and hoped it would be enough to keep him going for a little longer. He couldn’t let his aurors know he was struggling. If they thought he was weak, they might try and say something to the President, to force him to have more time off. Percival couldn’t think of anything worse.
He didn’t wake immediately as a weight joined him on the bed. Even he could only last a short time without sleep, and he was deep enough in unconsciousness to not notice as his pants were carefully slid down, his underwear unbuttoned. He began to wake at the sensation of hot breath against his cock, a shy tongue brushing over the tip. He could hear Grindelwald’s laughter in his mind, telling him that he knew he had unnatural desires, wondering if he was so repressed that he had never given into them. Grindelwald had never made good on those threats, but that seemed to be changing now. A slight flex of his wrist proved to him that for the moment, the bindings had been released.
He kicked out and brought up his fist in the same motion, slamming into the face of the man who was assaulting him. He threw out his magic, pushing the other figure away from him and against the wall, and sat up in bed, one hand keeping the man pressed to the far wall as the other reached for his wand. He wasn’t sure where he was or what was happening, heart racing. He gulped for air.
The room around him slowly came into focus, lit both by the light filtering through the curtain and the fire in his living room. The No-Maj boy was pinned to the wall by Percival’s magic, gasping and squirming, eyes wide in silent terror, as though he had seen the devil himself. Percival glanced down, seeing that his underwear had been undone. He fumbled to close it again. Adrenaline coursed through him but he tried to reconstruct what had happened.
The young man, Credence, had climbed into his bed. He had tried to pleasure him, and Percival had lashed out. Realising that, he dropped his magic, and saw Credence fall to the floor, panting for air. He tried to ignore the way the boy’s hand flicked in a movement he had seen before from No-Majs when things happened they couldn’t understand.
“Credence?”
“Mister Graves?” The young man asked nervously, blinking back tears. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t think you should do that again…” Percival answered, getting to his feet. He walked over towards Credence, studying the way the skin was reddening. His nose was broken. Percival sighed, reaching out and pointing his wand towards Credence’s face.
“Episkey.” Credence flinched away, but Percival watched as his nose reshaped. Credence’s hand darted up to touch the healed injury.
“How-?” Credence gasped, and Percival shook his head, walking over to the bathroom and picking up a tube of bruise removal paste.
“Credence...” Percival said softly. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”
***
“I’m sorry.” Credence whispered, shivering as Mister Graves smoothed the yellow gunk over where he had been punched. He was still trying to gasp for air, remembering how he had been trapped against the wall. He looked at his husband nervously, his head bowed. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be thrown out from this place. He was confused, uncertain. “Ma…Ma said that was how you wanted me to wake you. Did… did I do it wrong?”
“Not wrong.” Mister Graves said. “I just don’t want to be woken like that. Not now. Not…” He shook his head, and Credence felt his face heat up.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” His husband said firmly, dropping his hand from Credence’s cheek. “Is there any other injury?”
“No.” Credence admitted. “You… you fixed it.”
“There’s a lot I need to tell you.” His husband admitted.
Credence shook his head minutely.
“You… you helped me.” He murmured, ashamed. “Even though I… I messed up.”
“You still deserve to get healed.” Mister Graves answered after a moment. “Just because you make a mistake doesn’t mean that you should get hurt for it.”
That was harder for Credence to believe than the way Mister Graves had fixed his nose. He’d failed his husband again.
“I need to go to work.” Mister Graves answered. “We can talk… we will talk when I get back.”
“I…” Credence swallowed, and looked up at him. “I made you lunch.” He walked from the bedroom, picking up the meal he had prepared. “I could make breakfast if you… if you would like?”
“Not now Credence.” His husband said quickly. “I have to go to work. Make breakfast for yourself. Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave the house today, do you understand? Not until we’ve talked.”
“Yes sir.”
His husband smiled.
“Thank you for the lunch Credence.” He walked out of the door, and Credence saw the bolts slide home. He was locked in. He knew his husband had thrown him against the wall. He knew the fire hadn’t burned down. He knew his husband had healed his nose.
He didn’t know what his husband was, but he knew he was still married to him, that he would stand by his side. His husband was showing him kindness, even after Credence had made a mistake with waking him up. He went to make himself breakfast like Mister Graves had said.
He was locked in the house, with nothing to do but wait and try to find a way to solve his mistakes. He went to the bathroom, observing his face in the mirror. The bruise was already fading.