Credence didn’t mind being Mr. Grindelwald’s prisoner as much as Percival did. It was odd, to be physically caged and still freer than he’d ever been when he’d lived with Ma. As Mr. Grindelwald’s prisoner, he had decent meals and magic lessons and Percival and absolutely none of it was sinful or wrong or likely to result in a belting. Credence didn’t entirely believe that none of it was sinful or wrong; a couple weeks of magic lessons and leisure didn’t erase a whole lifetime’s worth of painful learning. But Percival kept insisting that it wasn’t, and Percival had never lied to him or hurt him, so Credence tried to believe it for his sake. Maybe someday he really would.
They settled into a comfortable routine. Breakfast and magic lessons, and then Percival would exercise while Credence told him stories from the Bible. He’d learned to read the faint crease between Percival’s dark eyebrows as confused disbelief; Percival found the Bible fairly confusing in general, and things people – No-Maj’s – were willing to take as gospel even more so. That seemed fair to Credence, seeing as he found the things wizards accepted as perfectly normal fairly confusing too.
They usually had more magic lessons after that, although sometimes they were lessons on How the Wizarding World Worked. Credence had a pretty good idea about how MACUSA was organized, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in particular, but the more practical aspects of wizarding life like the spells for cooking and cleaning and what wizarding currency was worth were all theoretical.
“You’re clever,” Percival told him. “You’ll pick it up in no time, once we’re free.”
“If you say so,” Credence said, ducking his head so Percival wouldn’t see how he glowed at the praise. Percival saw it anyway, if his smile was any indicator.
Credence liked the magic lessons, although none of the other spells came quite as easily as lumos had. The spell to lift objects with magic had a ridiculous number of nonsensical syllables, and learning to perform it properly had resulted in the accidental explosion of the pillow on their cot.
“This is stupid,” Credence said, frustrated. “I’m stupid, and I’m never going to be able to do this!”
“You’re not stupid,” Percival said, batting feathers away from his face. “You’re trying to learn magic without a wand, behind magic-suppressing wards. You’ll be a powerful wizard, away from both of those things, and one with very precise control. You just need to keep practicing.” He looked over at the pillow, which reassembled itself like it had never been damaged at all.
“How did you do that?” Credence asked.
“Fix the pillow? Just a simple repairing charm. Reparo,” Percival said.
“Can I learn that one instead? It seems … more useful, than being able to lift things.”
“We’ll have to come back to it eventually,” Percival warned, but he taught Credence the repairing charm anyway. It was much more useful than being able to lift things with magic, which Credence didn’t really see the point of. He had two perfectly good hands to lift things with; using magic seemed a little lazy.
Sometimes Percival told him stories after supper. He had a nice voice for stories, sonorous and deep and kind. He knew lots of stories about the Round Table and Camelot, but Credence’s favorites were the ones about cases Percival had worked and the people that he knew. Credence pictured Percival telling stories of the Round Table to their son, editing the gory bits in and out as he aged.
It should have been an impossible dream, but it was all too easy to imagine.
Nothing nice lasted forever, though. Credence had been stupid to believe it would.
Mr. Grindelwald appeared in a black swirl, wearing Percival’s face and a thunderous scowl. “Who the hell is Norton?” he demanded.
“No one,” Percival said, rising to his feet and shoving Credence behind him.
“He knows you well enough,” Mr. Grindelwald hissed. “He was suspicious when he stopped by your office today. Who is he?”
“Norton, you idiot,” Percival said, despair and rage thick in his voice. “Norton was my last protégé. He’s supposed to be in San Francisco, chasing potions smugglers. I was grooming him to head up the West Coast office, but I wanted him to get a little seasoning first. I sent him to San Francisco so he could learn about his territory. He was supposed to stay there.”
“He didn’t,” Mr. Grindelwald snarled. “He’s here, in New York. He wants to have lunch with you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” said Percival. “I can tell you whatever you need to know to fool him. It shouldn’t be any harder than fooling Picquery or my team.”
“Oh, Percival,” Mr. Grindelwald sighed, sounding a little pitying. “It’s far too late for that.”
“What did you do?” Percival demanded.
“It’s not what I’ve done,” Mr. Grindelwald told him. “So much as what I’m going to do.”
“He’s twenty-five – practically still a kid! He doesn’t know anything. All he has are suspicions, and those are easy enough to soothe. You don’t need to do anything to him. Just drop one or two in-jokes and send him packing. He’s no threat from the other side of the country.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Mr. Grindelwald said, and disappeared again.
Percival slammed his fists into the magical barrier, over and over again until his hands were raw and bloody. “Grindelwald!” he roared. “Come back here, damn you! GRINDELWALD!”
“Percival,” Credence said, frightened. “Percival, stop.” He tried to tug Percival away from the barrier, so he’d stop hurting himself, and Percival shook him off with enough force to send Credence sprawling.
“Shit,” Percival said, once he realized what he’d done. He knelt down next to Credence and reached for him.
Credence flinched. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t been hit in what felt like forever, but he was still afraid of the next blow, and Percival was already so angry.
“Fuck,” hissed Percival, moving away to punch the magical barrier straight on. Credence thought he heard the sound of bones breaking when the hit connected, but Percival didn’t seem to notice. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding wretched. “I didn’t mean to do that. It was – instinct. Which sounds like a stupid excuse. I told you I’d never hurt you and I meant it, it’s just – my body moves ahead of my brain sometimes. I’m so, so sorry, Credence. Are you alright?”
Credence got to his feet again and dusted his pants off. “I’m fine,” he said. His tailbone was a little sore, but it was nothing compared to what Ma used to do. He felt stupid. A little fall shouldn’t have startled him so badly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I fell.”
“Because I shoved you,” Percival said.
“I fell,” Credence insisted. “And I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“No,” Percival said, bleak. “I’m not going to be okay for awhile. Norton’s clever, is the thing. I wouldn’t have picked him for my protégé if he wasn’t. He’ll see through Grindelwald, and Grindelwald is going to murder him for it.”
“Were you and Norton…” Credence trailed off, because he didn’t know how to ask if they’d been lovers. Percival hadn’t mentioned any other lovers. He wouldn’t, because he was a gentleman, but he was powerful and handsome and kind, and Credence knew that he had to have had other lovers before.
“Intimate? No. That would have been an abuse of my position. He was my protégé; his life and his career were under my protection. It was my honor to train him, to make him a better Auror – one who could head up the West Coast office in a few years time, once he had the connections to make a difference. I suppose … I suppose I thought of him as a son. Or maybe a younger brother. My legacy, in MACUSA.” Percival laughed bitterly. “Grindelwald stole my face, my name, my rank. And now he’s going to steal that too. He’ll be my legacy. Percival Graves, kidnapped and held captive by the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, who traded information for safety until Grindelwald no longer had a use for him and killed him.”
“That’s not true,” Credence said. His fear had a panicked edge to it now, because Percival sounded defeated, like he’d given up on fighting, and that wasn’t who Percival was. Percival was a warrior; he didn’t know how to stop fighting, much less give up on it. “That’s not how history will remember you.”
“Isn’t it?” Percival asked, a sardonic twist to his mouth.
“No,” Credence said firmly.
What had Percival said? They were partners. That meant if Percival didn’t believe, then Credence would believe enough for both of them. That was what partners did.
“You’ll be remembered as the head of Magical Law Enforcement, who survived months and months as Mr. Grindelwald’s prisoner and escaped,” Credence said, with a surety he felt all the way down to his bones. He believed in Percival, without even the faintest smidgen of doubt. “And if that isn’t enough, then you’ll be remembered as a good man – a good father.”
“You sound very certain of that. For all you know, I’ll be a terrible father.” There was a glimmer of hope in Percival’s voice. He didn’t believe Credence, but he wanted to.
“No, you won’t. You look after me, and you’re nice to your nieces and nephews and the junior Aurors, even if you say you aren’t. You’re going to be the reason our son grows up loved and protected and safe.”
“My track record at keeping people safe isn’t all that great at the moment,” Percival said.
“Because you’re a prisoner,” Credence said. “It isn’t fair to think you can keep people safe when you aren’t.”
Percival sat down on the floor next to their cot. “Fuck,” he said. “Norton.”
“I’m sorry,” Credence said, taking a seat next to him. He wanted to hold Percival, but he wasn’t sure Percival would let him. Percival still seemed like he was a hairsbreadth away from lashing out again.
They sat together like that without speaking for what felt like hours. Eventually, Credence got up and fetched the water pitcher, pouring it over the rags from Percival’s old shirt and dabbing at Percival’s hands.
Percival seemed to notice that they were bloody and broken for the first time. “Damn,” he said, looking over the damage. He pulled his hands back and flexed his fingers experimentally, testing the range of movement with a wince.
“Let me help you,” Credence said quietly. “Please.”
Percival offered his hands up again and let Credence wash them clean without a sound.
“Can you heal them?” asked Credence. “The way you healed my back?”
“Bones are tricky,” Percival said. “Flesh wounds aren’t as complicated. It’s only a couple of metacarpals; those just need time to mend.” He sighed. “It does need splinting, though. Ferula.” Bandages and a splint appeared, wrapping his palm and forearm lightly.
Once that was taken care of, he looked Credence in the eye. “I’m sorry I lost control,” he said. “I regret my behavior. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
“You don’t need to be sorry for anything,” Credence told him. “You didn’t hurt me. And it’s alright to be upset sometimes.”
A muscle in Percival’s jaw tightened. “Not for me, it isn’t.”
“Why not?” asked Credence, baffled. Percival wasn’t like him. No one would hurt Percival, if he was upset or angry or frightened. Percival was strong enough to keep people from beating him.
“When I’m upset, I make mistakes. And I’m far enough up the chain of command that when I make mistakes, people die. Just like Norton.” Percival sighed. “I’m sorry, Credence. I’m poor company, right now. I think … I think I’d like to be left alone, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Credence said, swallowing hard around the sudden burst of hurt. “I’ll just be – quiet.”
Quiet was the best he could do, since it wasn’t like he could leave and give Percival space. He moved away from Percival and curled up on their cot, making himself as small a presence as possible.
He wished he’d been able to comfort Percival, the way Percival had comforted him. He felt stupid and useless. Percival would probably be better off without him.
Thinking about life without Percival hurt almost as bad as getting belted. Credence decided he wasn’t going to think about it at all. Not unless Percival said he wanted Credence gone when they were both free. For now, all he could do was pray for Norton’s soul, since praying for his safety didn’t seem likely to do much good.
Credence had no rosary of his own, but he could recall the weight of the one in the church, the way the smooth wooden beads felt in his hands. He closed his eyes and started praying the rosary, letting the familiar litanies was his mind clean of his hurts.
FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 16/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
They settled into a comfortable routine. Breakfast and magic lessons, and then Percival would exercise while Credence told him stories from the Bible. He’d learned to read the faint crease between Percival’s dark eyebrows as confused disbelief; Percival found the Bible fairly confusing in general, and things people – No-Maj’s – were willing to take as gospel even more so. That seemed fair to Credence, seeing as he found the things wizards accepted as perfectly normal fairly confusing too.
They usually had more magic lessons after that, although sometimes they were lessons on How the Wizarding World Worked. Credence had a pretty good idea about how MACUSA was organized, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in particular, but the more practical aspects of wizarding life like the spells for cooking and cleaning and what wizarding currency was worth were all theoretical.
“You’re clever,” Percival told him. “You’ll pick it up in no time, once we’re free.”
“If you say so,” Credence said, ducking his head so Percival wouldn’t see how he glowed at the praise. Percival saw it anyway, if his smile was any indicator.
Credence liked the magic lessons, although none of the other spells came quite as easily as lumos had. The spell to lift objects with magic had a ridiculous number of nonsensical syllables, and learning to perform it properly had resulted in the accidental explosion of the pillow on their cot.
“This is stupid,” Credence said, frustrated. “I’m stupid, and I’m never going to be able to do this!”
“You’re not stupid,” Percival said, batting feathers away from his face. “You’re trying to learn magic without a wand, behind magic-suppressing wards. You’ll be a powerful wizard, away from both of those things, and one with very precise control. You just need to keep practicing.” He looked over at the pillow, which reassembled itself like it had never been damaged at all.
“How did you do that?” Credence asked.
“Fix the pillow? Just a simple repairing charm. Reparo,” Percival said.
“Can I learn that one instead? It seems … more useful, than being able to lift things.”
“We’ll have to come back to it eventually,” Percival warned, but he taught Credence the repairing charm anyway. It was much more useful than being able to lift things with magic, which Credence didn’t really see the point of. He had two perfectly good hands to lift things with; using magic seemed a little lazy.
Sometimes Percival told him stories after supper. He had a nice voice for stories, sonorous and deep and kind. He knew lots of stories about the Round Table and Camelot, but Credence’s favorites were the ones about cases Percival had worked and the people that he knew. Credence pictured Percival telling stories of the Round Table to their son, editing the gory bits in and out as he aged.
It should have been an impossible dream, but it was all too easy to imagine.
Nothing nice lasted forever, though. Credence had been stupid to believe it would.
Mr. Grindelwald appeared in a black swirl, wearing Percival’s face and a thunderous scowl. “Who the hell is Norton?” he demanded.
“No one,” Percival said, rising to his feet and shoving Credence behind him.
“He knows you well enough,” Mr. Grindelwald hissed. “He was suspicious when he stopped by your office today. Who is he?”
“Norton, you idiot,” Percival said, despair and rage thick in his voice. “Norton was my last protégé. He’s supposed to be in San Francisco, chasing potions smugglers. I was grooming him to head up the West Coast office, but I wanted him to get a little seasoning first. I sent him to San Francisco so he could learn about his territory. He was supposed to stay there.”
“He didn’t,” Mr. Grindelwald snarled. “He’s here, in New York. He wants to have lunch with you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” said Percival. “I can tell you whatever you need to know to fool him. It shouldn’t be any harder than fooling Picquery or my team.”
“Oh, Percival,” Mr. Grindelwald sighed, sounding a little pitying. “It’s far too late for that.”
“What did you do?” Percival demanded.
“It’s not what I’ve done,” Mr. Grindelwald told him. “So much as what I’m going to do.”
“He’s twenty-five – practically still a kid! He doesn’t know anything. All he has are suspicions, and those are easy enough to soothe. You don’t need to do anything to him. Just drop one or two in-jokes and send him packing. He’s no threat from the other side of the country.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Mr. Grindelwald said, and disappeared again.
Percival slammed his fists into the magical barrier, over and over again until his hands were raw and bloody. “Grindelwald!” he roared. “Come back here, damn you! GRINDELWALD!”
“Percival,” Credence said, frightened. “Percival, stop.” He tried to tug Percival away from the barrier, so he’d stop hurting himself, and Percival shook him off with enough force to send Credence sprawling.
“Shit,” Percival said, once he realized what he’d done. He knelt down next to Credence and reached for him.
Credence flinched. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t been hit in what felt like forever, but he was still afraid of the next blow, and Percival was already so angry.
“Fuck,” hissed Percival, moving away to punch the magical barrier straight on. Credence thought he heard the sound of bones breaking when the hit connected, but Percival didn’t seem to notice. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding wretched. “I didn’t mean to do that. It was – instinct. Which sounds like a stupid excuse. I told you I’d never hurt you and I meant it, it’s just – my body moves ahead of my brain sometimes. I’m so, so sorry, Credence. Are you alright?”
Credence got to his feet again and dusted his pants off. “I’m fine,” he said. His tailbone was a little sore, but it was nothing compared to what Ma used to do. He felt stupid. A little fall shouldn’t have startled him so badly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I fell.”
“Because I shoved you,” Percival said.
“I fell,” Credence insisted. “And I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“No,” Percival said, bleak. “I’m not going to be okay for awhile. Norton’s clever, is the thing. I wouldn’t have picked him for my protégé if he wasn’t. He’ll see through Grindelwald, and Grindelwald is going to murder him for it.”
“Were you and Norton…” Credence trailed off, because he didn’t know how to ask if they’d been lovers. Percival hadn’t mentioned any other lovers. He wouldn’t, because he was a gentleman, but he was powerful and handsome and kind, and Credence knew that he had to have had other lovers before.
“Intimate? No. That would have been an abuse of my position. He was my protégé; his life and his career were under my protection. It was my honor to train him, to make him a better Auror – one who could head up the West Coast office in a few years time, once he had the connections to make a difference. I suppose … I suppose I thought of him as a son. Or maybe a younger brother. My legacy, in MACUSA.” Percival laughed bitterly.
“Grindelwald stole my face, my name, my rank. And now he’s going to steal that too. He’ll be my legacy. Percival Graves, kidnapped and held captive by the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, who traded information for safety until Grindelwald no longer had a use for him and killed him.”
“That’s not true,” Credence said. His fear had a panicked edge to it now, because Percival sounded defeated, like he’d given up on fighting, and that wasn’t who Percival was. Percival was a warrior; he didn’t know how to stop fighting, much less give up on it. “That’s not how history will remember you.”
“Isn’t it?” Percival asked, a sardonic twist to his mouth.
“No,” Credence said firmly.
What had Percival said? They were partners. That meant if Percival didn’t believe, then Credence would believe enough for both of them. That was what partners did.
“You’ll be remembered as the head of Magical Law Enforcement, who survived months and months as Mr. Grindelwald’s prisoner and escaped,” Credence said, with a surety he felt all the way down to his bones. He believed in Percival, without even the faintest smidgen of doubt. “And if that isn’t enough, then you’ll be remembered as a good man – a good father.”
“You sound very certain of that. For all you know, I’ll be a terrible father.” There was a glimmer of hope in Percival’s voice. He didn’t believe Credence, but he wanted to.
“No, you won’t. You look after me, and you’re nice to your nieces and nephews and the junior Aurors, even if you say you aren’t. You’re going to be the reason our son grows up loved and protected and safe.”
“My track record at keeping people safe isn’t all that great at the moment,” Percival said.
“Because you’re a prisoner,” Credence said. “It isn’t fair to think you can keep people safe when you aren’t.”
Percival sat down on the floor next to their cot. “Fuck,” he said. “Norton.”
“I’m sorry,” Credence said, taking a seat next to him. He wanted to hold Percival, but he wasn’t sure Percival would let him. Percival still seemed like he was a hairsbreadth away from lashing out again.
They sat together like that without speaking for what felt like hours. Eventually, Credence got up and fetched the water pitcher, pouring it over the rags from Percival’s old shirt and dabbing at Percival’s hands.
Percival seemed to notice that they were bloody and broken for the first time. “Damn,” he said, looking over the damage. He pulled his hands back and flexed his fingers experimentally, testing the range of movement with a wince.
“Let me help you,” Credence said quietly. “Please.”
Percival offered his hands up again and let Credence wash them clean without a sound.
“Can you heal them?” asked Credence. “The way you healed my back?”
“Bones are tricky,” Percival said. “Flesh wounds aren’t as complicated. It’s only a couple of metacarpals; those just need time to mend.” He sighed. “It does need splinting, though. Ferula.” Bandages and a splint appeared, wrapping his palm and forearm lightly.
Once that was taken care of, he looked Credence in the eye. “I’m sorry I lost control,” he said. “I regret my behavior. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
“You don’t need to be sorry for anything,” Credence told him. “You didn’t hurt me. And it’s alright to be upset sometimes.”
A muscle in Percival’s jaw tightened. “Not for me, it isn’t.”
“Why not?” asked Credence, baffled. Percival wasn’t like him. No one would hurt Percival, if he was upset or angry or frightened. Percival was strong enough to keep people from beating him.
“When I’m upset, I make mistakes. And I’m far enough up the chain of command that when I make mistakes, people die. Just like Norton.” Percival sighed. “I’m sorry, Credence. I’m poor company, right now. I think … I think I’d like to be left alone, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Credence said, swallowing hard around the sudden burst of hurt. “I’ll just be – quiet.”
Quiet was the best he could do, since it wasn’t like he could leave and give Percival space. He moved away from Percival and curled up on their cot, making himself as small a presence as possible.
He wished he’d been able to comfort Percival, the way Percival had comforted him. He felt stupid and useless. Percival would probably be better off without him.
Thinking about life without Percival hurt almost as bad as getting belted. Credence decided he wasn’t going to think about it at all. Not unless Percival said he wanted Credence gone when they were both free. For now, all he could do was pray for Norton’s soul, since praying for his safety didn’t seem likely to do much good.
Credence had no rosary of his own, but he could recall the weight of the one in the church, the way the smooth wooden beads felt in his hands. He closed his eyes and started praying the rosary, letting the familiar litanies was his mind clean of his hurts.
This, at least, was something he could do.