|Beth H (bethbethbeth) wrote in hp_beholder,|
@ 2010-05-15 12:16:00
|Entry tags:||augusta longbottom, beholder_2010, fic, het, rating:pg, rufus scrimgeour, rufus/augusta|
FIC: "As Time Goes By" for miss_morland
Title: As Time Goes By
Rating: PG, for brief description of torture
Pairings: Rufus Scrimgeour / Augusta Longbottom
Word Count: 5,000
Warnings: AU ending
Summary: In the midst of war, unlikely alliances may form. Sometimes, they become more.
Author's/Artist's Notes: Many thanks to the mod for a wonderful fest! Thanks to my wonderful beta, Venturous. I hope you enjoy this, miss_morland! You mentioned understated romance and I hope this suits!
It was a busy night at the Leaky. Smoke hung low in the room, as Tom kept a watchful eye on the groups. He knew the signs, and Trouble was definitely brewing. Maybe it was a tad dramatic, he thought, to think of Trouble with a capital T, but then again, most people didn't know how much work he put into keeping the place up. Magic was all well and good, but sometimes things needed plain old elbow grease.
A burst of talk erupted from one corner — the trouble-makers' corner, as Tom thought of it. The usual suspects clustered there, their posture gradually changing from hunched up to relaxed and open as they conversed, their heads up and faces flushed. About time to cut them off.
Too late, he thought with chagrin, as the Diagon Alley door swung open and Rufus Scrimgeour stepped through. He paused for a moment on the threashold, and one of the prime troublemakers spotted him.
"Well, lads, look who's here!" the man shouted. "If it isn't old Rufus. Got any more worthless flyers for us, then?"
Rufus looked down his long nose. "Hello, Peter. You know, if you had ever bothered to learn a basic shielding charm, those flyers wouldn't be so pointless."
"Nah," Peter replied. "They are worthless so long as you think there's any point in fighting You-Know-Who. Why don't you just accept it? He's the new power around here, and we'd all be better off if you'd just work something out with him!"
"What?!" Rufus exclaimed, as he limped towards the man. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea what he intends to do you people like you, given half a chance? He'd slaughter you as soon as look at you." Peter shook his head.
"Thas just because you all keep fighting him. If you'd just leave him alone, he'd leave us alone. Live and let live, I say." Rufus looked at the men clustered around the table with disgust.
"You are all a bunch of old fools. It disgusts me to see you swilling ale and firewhiskey, spouting nonsense, all the while brave witches and wizards are out there fighting to protect you."
"Never asked them to, did we?" Peter responded belligerently. "Spending all our tax galleons, just so you Aurors can play games, pretending to fight people that don't need fighting."
Rufus saw red. He thought of the brave Aurors whose funerals he had just attended: two wizards, tortured to death after losing their fight to protect an orphanage. He grabbed the man by the robes, wand gripped tightly in his other hand. Neither man noticed Tom had made his way across the room.
"Minister, let me get you a cup of tea," Tom said quietly. "You don't want to do this."
With a jerk, Rufus looked around to see a room filled with silent observers, staring at him in varying degrees of surprise and disquiet. Awkwardly, Rufus released the man's robes and cleared his throat.
"Yes, Tom. That's a good idea. I could stand a spot of tea right now."
Rufus did not notice the woman with the vulture-topped hat stand up from her table in the far corner. Nor did he see her leave, grandson in tow.