fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #2

ROUND 2

Seeing as we've reached 4,000 comments in Round 1, it's time to make a new one. Same (lack of) rules apply. Gentle reminder to everyone to refrain from posting extremely long prompts, though. While no word limit will be imposed, take note that it is very unlikely for someone to fulfill your prompt if your prompt alone is already several paragraphs long and containing a number of specifications.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
-(01/14/2016) We now have a TRADING POST where you can exchange fills with people.
-The prompt freeze is over! You may resume posting prompts. The next freeze is scheduled on February 8, 12:00 AM (PST) or if this round reaches 4,000 comments; whichever comes first.
-Due to popular demand, we now have our first couple of rules!
RULE #1: No prompt must exceed 250 words. Any prompt that exceeds that WILL be screened.
RULE #2: Please state RPF in the subject line if your prompt involves real people.
RULE #3: No kinkshaming.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Every step forwards brings Percival closer to his fate. The two British men standing there. He hears the clicking of a camera's shutters, knows that tomorrow morning images from this ceremony will be splashed across the front page of every wizarding newspaper. No longer will he merely be the American wizard who fell to Grindelwald. Now he will be the American wizard handed over like a bargaining chip, the wizard expelled from the only land he had ever known as punishment. The wizard who was trading Azkaban for something worse.

He feels sick. The fear is worse than it was for Jauncey. Back then he had no comprehension of what might lie ahead. He wasn't a virgin, had fumbled his way through Ilvermorny with a number of handsome men and beautiful women who he studied alongside. But he had never had a serious relationship. He hadn't known back then that Jauncey had thought he was a virgin. Hadn't known what the man would do when he found out the truth.

He shudders, the room seeming to spin. He is in the Ministry of Magic. Jauncey is dead. The men he is walking towards are Theseus and Newt Scamander. He focuses on that.

Newt Scamander seems more interested in the floor and the patterns on his own robes than in Percival. He doesn't lift his head, fingers on his left hand brushing over the embroidery. Theseus is looking at Percival, a faint frown creasing his forehead. Percival tries not to let the fear twisting in his gut show. He must have done something wrong, angered him somehow. He hadn't even married the men yet and he was already transgressing.

He shifts his weight slightly, managing to move the silver matchbox so he can feel it pressing against his skin. It is his one link to his old life, his one way of conveying messages to the aurors he regards as his own family. He is standing before the two of them now, his heart thudding in his chest.

The American Officer is standing close by, waiting to sign the register when the time comes. To seal Percival's fate. Percival hasn't had a chance to look at the terms of the marriage yet. He isn't sure he wants to see his future written out on the page when he already knows enough. Better not to know, to find out by learning. If he had been given a contract of what Jauncey wanted, he doubted he would have survived. This was better.

It is the Minister of Magic himself who will marry them, and he is dressed in the finest robes of all. Percival stands, waiting, hearing the camera take another photograph of him. He holds his head high, not wanting the world to see him looking afraid. That wouldn't do. He might be losing the Graves name, but he could still damage his family's reputation further by showing fear. A long cushion appears on the step in front of the Minister, and it is Theseus who kneels first, on the left hand side. Newt mirrors his brother on the right. Percival kneels in the middle, focusing on looking calm, his jaw set firmly. He can't allow the terror that swirls to overwhelm him. If he does, he knows he might pass out in front of the assembled crowd, and that would be unthinkable.

***

The Minister stepped forwards, beginning to recite words. The English ceremony was more formal than the American, which startled Percival a little. The Minister slipped into Latin before returning to English, as he set out expectations and hopes for their future. Percival couldn't bring himself to listen to it.

When the time came, he stood, Newt and Theseus on either side of him. It was far too late to run. Theseus winked at him and smiled again, taking the first vow.
"I, Theseus Scamander, take you, Percival Graves, to be my husband. I will love and cherish you, and ensure that no bombs knock you flying. I will stand by your side in the trenches and in the street, and I promise to not always steal your breakfast. I will protect you with my magic as you have renounced your own, and I swear I will not tease you more than you deserve."

There were a few laughs at that comment, but Percival wasn't listening fully, too busy trying not to remember Jauncey's snarl as he had told him exactly what it was he deserved. With Jauncey he had officially kept his wand. The world would know he had lost it this time. He realised a few seconds later that he had missed the start of Newt's vow.
"...my husband. I will love and cherish you, staying by your side. I will protect you with my magic as you have renounced your own, and I will..." Newt's voice faltered for a moment before he continued. "I will do all I can to be a good husband and treat you as you deserve."

A little relieved that Newt had stuck to the traditional vows for a marriage of this kind, Percival spoke his own when the time came.
"I, Percival Graves, take you, Theseus Scamander, and you, Newt Scamander, to be my husbands. I will do all I can to ensure your happiness, and I will love, honour and obey you with my body mind and soul. I will care for you, and treat you as you deserve." He fell silent, and the Minister spoke a little longer. Percival's mind drifted, and he was called back to reality by Newt's lips brushing his cheek, and then Theseus leaning in.

Theseus kissed passionately, the way he had done in the war, when Percival had been a junior auror. Percival yielded as cameras photographed the two of them. Theseus pulled away, the same brilliant grin on his face. The one Percival remembered. Since leaving Ilvermorny, he had only kissed two people, and the other one was dead.

They turned to face the cameras and assembled crowd, before Theseus guided him over to the marriage certificates. The quill there was a vivid blue, and Percival cursed the British rejection of pens. He signed his new name as neatly as he could.
"Want to go home Perce?" Theseus asked, his eyes sparkling.

Percival nodded. It would be best to get it over with.

Aaw! Theseus is in love. Percy is too scared right now to realise it.
As for Newt, he seems a bit uncomfortable.
I'm curious to see how it will unfold.

Prompt Post #2

Fill: Who Pays The Piper (4/?)

Re: Fill: Who Pays The Piper (4/?)