Note: Takes place at the Quidditch World Cup when the Death Eaters make their appearance, and Bill, Charlie and Percy go charging off after them =) Missing scene type scenario ficlet. Thanks as always to the wonderful Weasleytwin2 *hugs*

Percy weaved almost aimlessly between the dense trees, boots crushing the autumn leaves that littered the ground with little thought. Violent shadows seemed to merge from the darkness, whispering to him, taunting him with their false fear. Yet, they could hardly be heard over the terrified screams that seemed to mingle in the air with the growing panic. How was it that the desperate cries seemed to echo, when they were surrounded by a forest? How was it they seemed to seep deep into his bones, to ring continuously even when he was sure that they must have stopped by now? But still, the voices seemed to almost bounce back at him, smothering him in a blind panic that belonged not simply to those being preyed upon.

You are out of your depth, Percy.

He tried to pinpoint the closest cry, cursing himself as he did for letting himself get separated from his elder brothers. Over eager, overly confident. What a fool to believe he could handle a Death Eater on his own! He spared his wand a brief glance of contempt, allowing himself a moment of despair over exactly what he was to *do* with it. For all his talent, the wand had never been used on anything more sentient than a crude bug, certainly never on another person. And even then, he had had no desire to torture the poor animal in the way the others had done so without a second thought. Would he be able to turn the wand on someone that was human?

He banished the thought almost instantly. Or, if banished was perhaps too strong a word, denied that the emotion still lingered threateningly there, daring him to acknowledge it, to lose himself in his doubts. It would be so easy to turn back, to let the insecurities which were running havoc in his mind simply take control of his feet instead. No one had ever expected him to be a hero.

Perfect Percy. Yet so imperfect in so many ways ... How was it that they all could always point out the flaws, prove his mortality time and again, yet still expect him to be the God they always tried to dethrone him as?

To think was to falter. To doubt, selfish. There were others who did not have that option, but were instead being rounded up and humiliated by the Death Eaters. Who knew how far they would take this damaging game of theirs, to what ends their cruelty would go.

Fear would simply have to sit this one out, he would deal with the consequences of it later.

He startled as he saw a flicker of black, followed closely by the gentle crush of light footsteps not far to his left. Changing directions with a swiftness that belied his hesitation, Percy tried to convince himself that perhaps he was only chasing after another wizard who had fled the campsite in terror, that chances were it wasn't a Death Eater.

The bolt of energy which sent him hurtling uncontrollably to the ground the moment he reached the edge of the clearing his chasee had entered quickly disposed of *that* hopeful thought. Ignited by some instinct he never knew he had, Percy rolled quickly behind a near tree, avoiding the next blast from the wand easily. With a grimace, he rested his head momentarily in his hands, fighting off a wave of dizziness caused by the harsh impact it had had with the hardened autumn ground. A small growl escaped as he raised a hand tenderly to his nose, wincing at the wetness he felt there.

As another bolt from the Death Eater's wand went far too wide, Percy peered cautiously around the tree, his eyes taking several moments to pick out the Death Eater who was clouded by shadows on the other side of the moonlit clearing. Frustration seemed to be seeping into the Death Eater's demeanour, as shots from the wand came fast and wild with an abandonment that only youth or inexperience could own. There was no calculation or timing, simply the obvious desire to use muscle where brain was obviously lacking. Eyes wide, he wondered if it could really be this easy, if the open stance that the other wizard had was merely some form of trick. Surely no-one was that arrogant to hold their wand so far from their body against an implacable prey? No Death Eater would allow himself the opportunity to be beaten by a spell that the first years at Hogwarts learnt!

"Accio!" Percy demanded softly, the pitch of his voice only loud enough so as to cast the spell correctly. He watched in disbelief as the wand spun out of the Death Eaters hand and flew towards him, landing with a thump in his outstretched hand. Stunned, the Death Eater stared off in the direction the wand had flown, before turning on clipped heels as if to take flight. Quickly regaining his senses, Percy rose to his feet and dashed into the clearing, wand trailed on the Death Eater.

"Halt!" He demanded stiffly, pleased at how his voice didn't waver with the nervousness that still lingered. The Death Eater froze, yet there was something almost strange about it. The Death Eater seemed almost ... shocked, yet he must have known his chances of escaping where slim.

"Move into the clearing," Percy then ordered, shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling of wrongness that had settled on his shoulders. It was nothing more than being in a unaccustomed situation, surely - for what was he to do now? Rendering the Death Eater unconscious was rather pointless, trying to levitate him through the dense forest would be hazardous and leave him open to attack. Leaving the Death Eater bound in the clearing would be of little use, as one of his pack members could easily stumble across the body and release him.

He was a paper pusher, not a law enforcer. When exactly was the Ministry planning to teach him how to deal with situations such as *this*? He was holding a pair of fours, he somehow needed to convince both the Death Eater and himself that they were aces ...

Everything became irrelevant, however, as the hood that draped protectively over the Death Eaters face like a funeral veil was lifted, then dropped back onto brood shoulders. Strands of moonlight danced in the rich brown hair, highlighting harshly in a sickly pale the firm features of the attractive face he had once known so well. Still knew so well.

He knew the cool disinterest that were those eyes far to personally too.

"Percy." Cold. Calm. Devoid of anything close to emotion.

"Marcus." Nothing leaked into the other boys facade, and Percy bit his lip momentarily, slipping into the old habit he had employed in his first few years at Hogwarts. It was the only outward show of distress he allowed, yet the phantom smirk that lurked on those lips was testament of how well Marcus has learnt his quirks. It had been months since he had last seen Marcus, and even then it had been this frozen facade that he presented to most of the world, not the Marcus who had at the beginning of their 7th year taunted him to the brink of retaliation, where Percy had spilt words that he usually forbade himself to speak. Marcus had watched on, stunned, as years of pent-up frustration and self loathing had flowed like cheap wine, unable to be bottled back up once it had started.

For seven years, he had never let anyone see beneath the layers he had painted on for self-preservation, and then he'd let them all be stripped in front of the one person who was most likely to destroy him. Yet, if anything, Marcus had saved him from the breakdown he had been spinning uncontrollably towards. He had tried months after it was all over to convince himself that he had been taken advantage of while in a state of fragility, or that there had been nothing more than pity he had seen in those eyes, all those nights. But to do so was to deny himself any blame, or the freedom those few months had held. He had allowed himself so many emotions that he had always refused to acknowledge. Lust. Abandonment. Need. Lo-

Well. There were still some emotions he perhaps refused to concede to. It had only been a few months, after all. If those few months had been the most amazing of his 7 years at Hogwarts, then admitting as much was enough.

The wand in his hand wavered slightly, and he mentally growled at himself. He was Percy Weasley, member of the Ministry of Magic! Emotions were not to rule his thoughts in a situation such as this. Emotions were something that shouldn't be expressed or acted upon at all! Before he could speak up again however, desperate to regain command of the situation, Marcus did.

"Well?" Impatience echoed in the low alto. "Are you going to curse me? Impervious perhaps? Or just the Cruccio curse?" Marcus laughed as the suggestion of the curses caused Percy to pale. "Come now, Percy - fair play. That is what they teach you at the Ministry, isn't it?"

"If you hadn't been using such an amateur stance and technique, perhaps I wouldn't have caught you in the first place!" He snapped back, cursing himself for letting Marcus get to him, for having to attempt to defend his lack of action.

"Oh, that makes sense, Percy," Marcus sneered. "Blame it on *me*. We both know how much you love to take the easy way out."

Percy stilled, surprised at the reference to Penelope. Of course Marcus had viewed his relationship with Penelope as avoiding deeper issues, especially after Penelope was the one Percy had chosen to remain with. But it hadn't been because of fear, as Marcus had always said, but something deeper, more substantial ...

Admit it, Percy old boy - you were a wimp. Penelope was your safety blanket, so much so that you ignored the thorns that were threaded into each strand of it, clinging to her despite the pain it caused.

Confusion settled in as a deep smirk suddenly settled in over the other boys handsome features. Percy opened his mouth to query the insolence, but it was a soft cry that tore itself instead from his throat as an ice hot pain raced up his back. His legs gave out beneath him, and he crashed onto his knees. Repeating the curse that Percy himself had used earlier, both wands flew from where they had landed beside him into Marcus's waiting arms.

"Really Percy, you should be above such an amateur stance and technique," Marcus mocked, as the Death Eater who had circled behind Percy came out into the clearing. He didnt recognise the other person in their heavy robes, but it was of little consequence. Eyes fixated on Marcus, Percy tried to push the fear that was creeping dominatingly into his thoughts away.

Don't let him see your fear, he'll only feed off of it.

"I can handle everything from here," Marcus spoke up to the random Death Eater, nodding sharply in thanks. The Death Eater looked to protest, but seemed to think better of it. As suddenly as he had come, the Death Eater slunk back into the shadows, washed away by the ink blackness of the evening.

"Now, this is a turn around, isn't it?" Marcus continued lightly, wand trained on him. "How the mighty have fallen, wouldn't you say, Percy? The top student to graduate from Hogwarts in 30 years, captured by a mere Death Eater. How they *will* sing your praises."

Percy tensed as Marcus began to slowly circle him, trailing the hand free of the wand lightly over the back of his slim shoulders. He shuddered slightly under the touch, wanting nothing more than to throw the false caress off.

"Did you know, there is a price on your head?" Marcus continued, tapping the wand over the top of Percy's head. "Seems one of the Death Eaters is overly eager to get their hands on a Weasley." Casually cool eyes looked him over. "I wonder if they would still be interested in the merchandise if they knew someone elses *hands* had already been all over it. Used goods, so to speak."

"Come now," Percy interrupted, voice straining neutrality. "It was only sex, Marcus. Surely you aren't *still* jealous of Penelope?" Marcus froze, iced eyes glaring down at him. Marcus couldn't be, could he? The other boy had practically driven him back into the innocent arms of Penelope, although he had never technically claimed to have left them in the first place. Penelope had never known of the affair that had been going on behind her back.

"Of Penelope?" Marcus scoffed, having regained enough of his composure. Why would I be jealous of anyone who had to put up with you for 3 years?"

"Two." Came Percy's quiet answer, and again Marcus stilled, if only for a second. "I broke it off after graduation."

"Lovely," Marcus replied neutrally. "Now that you are done recounting your rather sorry track record when it comes to relationships, I do think it is time we got on with it, dont you?" Marcus was starting to look tense, sparing glances for the bushes and trees that surrounded the clearing, almost as though he feared interruption. Backing away slightly from where Percy was still on his knees, Marcus drew the wand up level to Percy's chest.

So, this was it. Dead before his twentieth birthday, and at the hands of a former lover. This sounded far too much like one of those overly dramatic muggle novels that his mother read, not something that was supposed to happen to a Ministry worker. Percy clenched his teeth, lowering his head so as not to see the disdain that would be obviously burning in the other boy's eyes. They'd both fallen so far, Marcus from good, himself from love. Marcus owed him nothing, and the black blood that now flowed through his veins would demand everything being a Death Eater stood for, utter destruction. Marcus was better than this, but what good would it do to actually verbalise something the other boy obviously didn't believe?

Marcus muttered something under his breath, but Percy couldn't decipher it, wasn't sure he wanted to hear the words that would lead to the final blow. There would be no begging, no ask for leniency. Marcus was, after all, a Death Eater, and he a Ministry Worker. How easily they slipped into their cardboard cut-out roles ...

"Attonbitus!"

He was allowed a moment of surprise before the curse hit him, powerful in its near point blank range. A wave of pain crashed around him, subtle in its intensity.

Attonbitus, the stun curse?

Then everything faded into a dull black.

Marcus glanced down at the collapsed body, failing to conjure up the smirk that should have dominated his features. Instead, he cursed, damning the boy in front of him to Hades and back, or whatever hell the Weasley circus believed in. Glancing around the clearing, it wasn't until he was completely satisfied that they were still the only two occupants that he ungracefully lofted Percy up into his arms, grunting at the difficulty of lifting the gangly dead weight.

"I should have killed you," he muttered under his breath, glaring down at the slack features of a face he had once prided himself on being able to read as expertly as Trelawny claimed to be able to do with a tea cup. "Or at least have made you grow an extra nose, or something."

With a casualness that was forced for his ego's benefit only, he dumped the body under one of the surrounding trees. The dangling branches cast a deep shadow over the body that even the waning moonlight could not touch, and the darkness shrouded Percy from even the keenest eyes. Noticing that the glasses that Percy was near blind when without, had fallen askew during the boys harsh rendezvous with the ground, he bent down on reflex, gingerly going to straighten them before drawing back with a growl. What next? Perhaps he could make the Ministry Member a daisy chain?

He'd gotten over the prim and proper Weasley long ago. Their silly little game had ended the moment the brat had gone running back into the safety that was Penelope. Boring, predictable Penelope. At least, on the surface - the girl should have been a Slytherin for all her tactics and falseness.

"Surely you arent *still* jealous of Penelope?"

Marcus glared at the silent boy, still minutes away from waking from the curse. Any possible feelings he may have had for Percy had died a quick, painless death when he had moved onto another lover, one far more adept at both giving and receiving pleasure than the puritan Percy. It had never been about more than sex, even Percy acknowledged that.

And of course, they were both wonderful when it came to expressing their true emotions. Freud would have a field day if he managed to get one of them into his office.

With a parting glance of contempt, he apparated. The past was best left for weaker souls to dwell in, he had no time for it. And if he didn't mention to Lucius that he had held one of the precious Weasleys the older man desired so much in his grasp, it was for his own preservation, not Percy's.

Percy had been lucky this time. There was no guarantee he would survive next time their paths crossed.