Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/203373.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Percy_Weasley/Draco_Malfoy
  Character:
      Percy_Weasley, Draco_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Implied_Relationships, Dark, Power_Dynamics
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-05-23 Words: 2033
****** Paper Cuts ******
by Etrangere
Summary
     After Voldemort wins the war, Percy does what he must to survive and
     tells himself it really could have been worse.
Notes
     Done for hp_springsmut 2007 for eliminate. Much love to kethlenda for
     the emergency beta she did for me ♥
On the third day after the official end of the war, Lord Voldemort visits the
Ministry.
He is quite courteous, and doesn't curse anyone, requesting smoothly the
changes and adaptations required by the new world order. Some high ranked Death
Eaters are with him, glaring and sneering at the long rows of Ministry agents,
who shuffle nervously.
Percy has been expecting it. Governments, Lords or Ministers, come and go.
Bureaucracy always remains. It is the tool that every regime needs to establish
its authority.
There are, of course, some buzzes and whispers, and shouldn't we fight back?
Then Scrimgeour is dragged down the alley in front of them, hexed stuck to the
fountain and cursed repeatedly until the end of the day. They can hear him
screaming for hours before he mercifully stops, until only a trail of drool
falls down his chin and someone finally kills him.
There are no more whispers after that.
                                     * * *
Percy remembers Draco Malfoy as a snotty brat, as likely to brag rudely about
his father's wealth as to lick the boots of a teacher he liked. No one of
consequence, really, if not for the shadow of his name. The hollow-eyed young
man he's become is another thing altogether. There's a perpetual smirk, more a
grimace than anything, disgracing his lips, and his hands often grasp at his
robes in a nervous tic. Draco Malfoy is in charge of his sector of the Ministry
right now, though, so it wouldn't do to show anything but efficient obedience.
Percy is good at this; he's got a lot of practice. He says "sir" a lot, looks
neutrally blank, and works late at night, blackening feet and feet of paperwork
traducing whatever fancy crosses the mind of the Dark Lord and his lackeys into
proper administrative regulations and directives.
Malfoy likes to come at unlikely times to make impromptu inspections Percy
secretly thinks are to relieve his insomnia. Malfoy wouldn't recognise what
he's looking for even if he found it, Percy thinks, not even if there were
secret signs of the resistance hidden in the paperwork. He paces up and down
the corridors and says various nasty things that Percy doesn't particularly try
listening to.
(Yes, sir. No, sir. Do you, sir? At once, sir.)
Mostly Percy tries not to think about Ron, who was in Malfoy's class back then,
and whether he's alive or not. He hasn't had any news from the (non) family
since he didn't go to Charlie's funeral two years ago, and he's intentionally
avoided looking at the casualty list appearing in the Daily Prophet for the
last 9 months (it's not like he could have trusted anything written on it so
what was the use anyway?).
Malfoy, Percy decides, is still really no one of consequence, the only
difference is that, now, Malfoy realises it. It is so similar to Percy's own
circumstance that he lets out a dry laugh, and he only realises he did it aloud
when silence weighs down on the room.
"Do you find me funny, Weasley?"
Percy straightens at once, cursing himself. "No, sir."
"Out, all of you!" Malfoy orders, and the rest of the employees present scatter
away.
Malfoy narrows his eyes at him and speaks self importantly. "I don't like you,
Weasley. Don't think I've forgotten what kind of blood traitor family you
belong to. You better be extra careful that you please me, and maybe you'll
have a chance to keep your post – and life."
Percy looks at Malfoy warily. Malfoy might not matter much in the great scheme
of things, certainly not by his own merit, but he does have ties to the right
people. While Percy's work basically makes him irreplaceable (he's very good at
what he does or he wouldn't have survived so many changes of Ministers), it is,
however, not beyond Malfoy's incompetence not to realise this; and if he kills
Percy, irreplaceable or not, Percy will still be dead.
"How could I please you, sir?" Percy says carefully.
Malfoy wets his lips nervously. He's not very good at it, Percy thinks, not for
the first time. Much better at school yard insults than at being a sadistic
tyrant. He could almost pity him.
"On your knees!" Malfoy says.
All thoughts of pity go away from Percy's mind as he stammers.
"What?"
"I said, get on your knees!"
There's no real choice, so, reddening, Percy lowers himself to his knees. The
pretty marble of the floor is cold through the thin, high-quality material of
his robes.
"Much better," Malfoy smirks. "Your kind should learn their place. You aren't
worth more than the mud you're walking on." He starts pacing around Percy. "I
know you're hiding something. I know you've still got some ties with the scum
of the Order. You think you can still win, you idiots, you still haven't
realised what it is you're up against! The Dark Lord is just playing with you,
do you realise? And soon you'll all be feeding worms."
Percy is watching him intently so he sees the blow coming, and still doesn't do
anything to avoid it. Malfoy's boot catches him in the right side of the chin
and he hears his glasses clattering down the floor. He desperately tries to
think of a way to turn this around. Malfoy is in such a state he could easily
beat him bloody, and (he's heard worse stories already) possibly even kill him.
"How can I please you, sir?" he repeats. His throat is dry and his voice comes
out hoarse. It does stop Malfoy.
The Death Eater looks down at him, breathing harshly. "You will do everything I
ask you." It should be a demand, but it comes out as a question.
That's what makes Malfoy dangerous, Percy realises, he's too insecure to know
where to stop to assert his power. That's why Percy should keep him happy. He
gets back to his knees, hands behind his back, eyes lowered. A picture of
submission. "Yes, sir."
Malfoy steps closer to him. "God, you're just eager for it. You were always
such a prissy stickler for the rules, weren't you? I remember you."
Percy decides that answering 'yes, sir' at this point would probably be too
obviously sarcastic, so he says nothing.
"Remove your clothes," Malfoy drawls.
Percy pauses imperceptibly. Malfoy could be merely trying to humiliate him, but
even if he isn't, getting raped would probably be better than a true beating
(he still has nightmares about the look of Scrimgeour's body when they were
finished), and it could even provide him with some opportunities. Yes, lie down
and think of the opportunities, he tells himself dryly. He starts undressing
slowly, every gesture carefully measured.
"Faster," Malfoy says. There are two spots blushing feverishly onto his cheeks.
"Yes, sir," Percy says, getting rid of his outer robe. He doesn't wear much
underneath and his nipples harden in the cold.
Malfoy looks at him vaguely as Percy finishes undressing. Absurdly, Percy feels
ashamed of his too-pale, too-freckled skin, at the obvious lack of shape that
too much working and feeding mainly on coffee and take-outs has left him in.
Malfoy is silent, appearing to have forgotten him. Percy wonders if he should
prompt him.
"Sir?"
Malfoy startles back and frowns. "Much better… you don't look so smug, now, do
you?"
No, Percy thinks, I look bloody naked and bloody cold.
Malfoy opens up his robe to free his cock. He's only half-hard, Percy notices.
He swallows audibly. It's okay, he thinks, to look scared. That's probably what
Malfoy wants.
"Yes," Malfoy sneers, "get your throat to work."
Percy takes a bit of inspiration and swallows Malfoy's cock. It is not in
itself such a horrible thing, he tells himself. The shape and the taste of a
cock between his lips brings him back to Hogwarts and happier days of sucking
Oliver in the Quidditch showers. He was so self-important back then, so
righteously ashamed of himself. He wants to laugh at it. There's much worse
things than to turn out a poof, he would tell his fifteen-year-old self, you
could be the sucking the cock of a Death Eater in order to save your own life.
Malfoy starts moving his hips, his flesh filling Percy's mouth. Percy is
surprised to find himself getting hard. He doesn't know if it's because of the
half-memories of Oliver or because it's been so long since he had the occasion
to touch another human being intimately. It's all for the best, he tells
himself, all for the better to satisfy Malfoy and be left alone. It really
could be much worse. Malfoy is clean, at least, and young, and even rather
handsome if one likes blonds. In other circumstances, Percy might have looked
forward to finding himself in this position, especially given the Malfoys'
wealth.
"Harder," Malfoy mutters. Percy obeys, sucking harder and deeper. He gags a
little bit, but it's all right. He's always liked it rough and forceful anyway.
There's no reason he can't like this. He's kept his hands behind his back, he
realises. He shudders slightly at the thought.
It seems to encourage Malfoy, who pumps erratically. "I hate you," he says
suddenly. "I hate you. You're weak and you're nothing. You're no better than a
Mudblood. You can't even stop this. Repulsive… cowardly… pathetic…. idiot."
Percy finally feels the bitter taste of cum fill his throat, and Malfoy
staggers out of his mouth and half-falls, half-sits against the wall.
Percy breathes harshly, still kneeling, naked and hard. He's certain his cock
looks ridiculous, as red and obvious as his freckles against the white of his
skin, but Malfoy doesn't seem in the mood to mock him. He lets out a sound that
sounds a somewhat like a sob and a somewhat like a laugh. "You're pathetic,"
Malfoy repeats. "You deserved it."
"Yes," Percy says soothingly. It seems to shatter Malfoy's composure even more,
though. He curls up onto himself and buries his face inside his hands.
I'm dead, Percy thinks. Now that I've seen him like this, there's no way he's
not going to kill me.
He crawls up to Malfoy and pats his shoulder awkwardly, and Malfoy actually
clamps onto his arm and puts his head in the crook of Percy's neck, making
little helpless noises. Percy feels terribly silly, and says "hush, hush", and
remembers comforting Ginny when she was a baby a long time ago. Everything is
wrong, and he's still painfully hard. "It's going to be all right," he tells
Malfoy. "It's going to be all right."
"Aunt Bella," Malfoy says distinctly, after a while, "is going to kill me."
"No," Percy says, "she won't."
Malfoy looks up at him, frowning, already ready to get angry again, so Percy
adds hastily: "We're going to give her names."
                                     * * *
The day after, Percy works all night through the archives of the last two years
to find properly suspicious material to incriminate enough people from the
Ministry. It's not too difficult, there's no way to follow entirely the rules,
after all, and Percy is very good with paperwork. He navigates it like it was
his own private swimming pool.
He hands the names to Draco, who gives them to Bellatrix. People disappear and,
eventually, confess. Or go mad, which is just as good to make Bellatrix happy.
Which means that Draco looks less nervous and his eyes shine a little with some
of his old arrogance. They fuck in Percy's little apartment, and it's not too
bad at all, Percy thinks.
Then at night, after Draco's sound asleep (and with a quick spell to make sure
of that), Percy gets out to that little pub he knows of, and he repeats some of
what Draco tells him to the sallow-skinned man in the dark corner. It's just
business, he tells him. It's not about saying he was wrong and they were right.
Just to make sure that he's got all sides covered.
The man smiles thinly at that and says that he understands entirely.
Governments will come and go, but bureaucracy always remains. Percy, as a very
good bureaucrat, makes sure to remain. Thus order prevails.
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