Patty Podmore (patticakes) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-08-03 12:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! . needs a tag, ! [1980-08] august, demetrius mulciber, petra podmore (née petrikova) |
Who: Petra Podmore and Demetrius Mulciber
When: 3 August, 1980; afternoon
Where: The Ministry of Magic, floor 2.
What: Demetrius confronts Patty about being a vigilante.
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete.
Opening his office door with a flick of his wand, Demetrius stopped shuffling paperwork long enough to say (in a magically magnified voice), "Mrs. Podmore, my office if you would?" before looking back down at the papers in his hands. He hardly even read them, just stacked them in neat stacks and put them away for the time being. The past few days hadn't been good for his productivity. He didn't dislike Mrs. Podmore, astoundingly. He found most of the Law Enforcement employees grating, even Angelica, someone he'd gone to school with, but Podmore was agreeable. But now he was troubled. Furrowing his brows, he put away the last of the paperwork cluttering his desk and watched the open door. Grief had clouded his mind, and he was brooding and exhausted, but he had to do this. She was a threat. While Petra Podmore had been working for the Death Eaters in the Ministry for over six months already, she had never been able to shake the nervous feeling she got each time either Umbridge or Mulciber called her into one of their offices. "Just a moment, sir," she called out pleasantly, quickly finishing up the last bit of paperwork she was dealing with as she told herself that, like each time before, it was nothing. She was a good Hitwitch and a good spy, and both she and Sturgis had been very careful to stay undetected. Besides, she told herself, I have a portkey in my pocket. Moody had insisted, and though it had been a bit difficult to make unregistered portkeys, they had done it. Patty no longer had anything of value at her desk save a few personal photographs and items she did not care too horribly if she lost, and she kept clothing both at her personal home and at the safehouse. However, she reminded herself, she had nothing to fear. Last time she was called into Umbridge's office, she had simply been asked to write "the teensiest bit" more legibly on her paperwork. She stepped into Demetrius Mulciber's office a moment later and stood next to chair in front of his desk. "You wanted to see me, sir?" The news would have been shocking if he had been in a proper state of mind, but he was more numbly surprised. But he'd made a quick plan in his head and wanted to make sure the situation didn't get out of hand where others could see it. But if it had to come to that, well he could just claim she attacked, and it wasn't as if she'd come back the next day to confirm or deny it. "Sit," he commanded, realizing she was in his office, once she had seated herself across from him, he thought of how to begin. Relaxing a little in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest but leaning slightly towards the left as to not aggravate the perpetual aching of his right side, he tossed his head to get the hair (that had remained stubbornly un-cut) out of his eyes. Watching her carefully, he frowning. "I am far too busy to play games. So let's get right down to it. You're a spy?" Raising an eyebrow, as if silently daring her to deny it. Patty felt a whole rabble of butterflies explode into being in her stomach, though years of being a Hitwitch and, before that a political rebel who liked taking risks, she kept a cool demeanor and simply blinked a few times, as if confused. "Sir?" she asked, tilting her head and furrowing her brow, asking for clarification. She knew there was a good chance she would not be able to talk her way out of the situation, but there still was a chance, and she was going to take it if she could. Even so, she sat up a little straighter in her chair and put her hands in her lap where she could easily reach either her portkey or her wand. She would not be coming back to work the next day, but she would much rather walk out the door of the Ministry freely if she was able. He had expected a yell, or an immediate denial. The fact that she kept her cool, other than impressing Demetrius a bit, made him feel the slightest twinges of doubt about this. But- there was no doubt it was true. She was, perhaps, so adept at lying that she knew reacting loudly would blow what was left of her cover. "You're a vigilante spy," he repeated with a cool sort of confidence. "Don't try and deny it, it's useless, my sources are not wrong," he added. Emphasizing that he already had no doubt it was true would only speed up the process. He'd probably have to kill her, she couldn't just walk out with the Ministry's secrets, now could she? If he had truly been certain, he wouldn't have called her into his office, Patty told herself. He would have simply killed her then and there right at her desk, or the moment she walked through the door. She tried to make her voice as confused yet still innocent as possible with a little bit of worry thrown in, but she wasn't sure how much he was going to buy it. "Sir, I-- I don't know what you're talking about. Where did you hear this?" "Do not concern yourself with my sources, no one within the Ministry. Don't assume it is a vendetta or a joke, it isn't," he said coolly. He flicked his wand and the door slammed shut with a bit of excess force. "I have no doubt about this accusation, so we should not skirt around it." Demetrius had little patience for denials and digging for the truth. He wished he had some Veritaserum on hand, that would make it so much easier. Patty was surprisingly calm given the fact that she had just accepted that her cover was blown and she was not going to be able to freely walk out of the Ministry. She couldn't talk herself out of this situation, she knew now it was fruitless, which meant unless she could get her hand on her portkey way down in her side pocket before Mulciber could manage a spell, she would either have to fight her way out or leave in a body bag, but for all of that, she didn't feel half as worried as she had when he had simply asked her to come into his office. She took a breath and tsked at him, finally dropping the act and looking at him expectantly, her hand ready to reach for her wand. "So what now, Demetrius?" Demetrius didn't have many options, he could kill her or continue to be a colossal failure in everything. But her admitted it was the first step to making this easy. Simply using Avada Kedavra would not make it easy to fabricate a cover story. "I figure I should probably punish you for your crimes instead of just killing you painlessly," he said casually. Flicking his wand one more time, the door locked securely, then he looked at her severely, but more with tired exasperation than actual rage. "Crucio," he said quietly. Her hand plunged into her robe with the first flick of his wand, but her own wand was only half-way out when the Unforgivable hit her. It was not an unfamiliar experience, but that did not make it any less unbearable as a pain that felt like a thousand fiery-hot knives cut into her. She let out a loud scream, completely oblivious to anything except the pain shooting through her body and she began to convulse in the chair, writhing like a creature dying as she slid out of the chair and onto the floor. Demetrius stopped after a moment, putting a Silencing Charm on the door- and on Patty herself. He didn't need the noise. His head was pounding, had been for a few days. It hurt. All of him hurt, his body was exhausted, his emotions were exhausted. He was angry at the world, and who better to take the brunt of his anger than a spy? He stood from his desk and walked over to where she was laid out on the floor, nudging her prone form with the toe of his boot. "Get up. If you want to make a fight for it out of here, make it worth my time," he sneered. While her high marks in Dark Arts and Defense Against the Dark Arts at Durmstrang did nothing to actually reduce the pain of a Cruciatus Curse, it had taught her how to bounce back from it much quicker than another person may have been able to. She grabbed her wand from the floor where it had slipped out of her hand and quickly dragged herself to a standing position, taking care not to trip on her robes, which had gotten twisted a bit. She was sore, but it was not anything she hadn't felt before and she knew that she needed to simply get to the portkey in her pocket, but with her robes twisted, she didn't have the time. He was giving her time now, but if Demetrius saw her digging her hands through her robes, he wouldn't hesitate to strike her again. Her only choice, it seemed, was to fight until she had the opportunity to get to the portkey. It wasn't the ideal situation, but Patty wouldn't have become a Hitwitch if she hadn't liked taking a few risks, and so possibly taking Mulciber down with her (though she wasn't going to overestimate herself) was not such a bad situation. Well, it was time to fight, and he had cruciated her - Patty wasn't going to hold back. She nonverbally lifted the silencing charm off her and then -- "Cruorem Lacrimo" she shouted, a thick black beam coming out of the end of her wand. Some people had disapproved that Durmstrang taught Dark Arts, but Patty thanked her lucky stars. The curious sensation of blood beginning to drain from his pores was entirely foreign to Demetrius, he knew what this spell was but he had been on the receiving end of very little Dark Magic. It obscured his vision and he growled in pain and agitation. "Sectumsempra," he snapped back, if anything it would break her focus. He probably wouldn't be able to stop the bleeding well on his own but he was unconcerned about that right now. Patty's focus was on the Blood Draining Curse she had on Demetrius, but she knew a Death Eater would be unlikely to simply take the curse, so when she saw him move his wand, she broke off her spell and tried to deflect his with a shield charm. "Prote-" she began, but too late -- his curse hit before her shield fully formed, unable to block off the full extent of it. She cried out again as invisible knives flashed against her skin, tearing through the dark cloth of her robes and into her skin, thin strips that would not be visible were it not for the blood that began to soak through them. They weren't deep, not for this spell if it was the one she remembered; the shield had helped. It hurt, but he seemed to be bleeding worse. "Commie," she spat, trying this time a suffocation curse aimed straight at the throat. The blood flow obscuring his vision had only just begun to slow when the next curse hit him, hardly able to see, he was hardly able to react. Trying his best to focus on a nonverbal spell, and conversely trying to ignore that he couldn't even breathe, he cast a silent Levicorpus hoping that despite it likely being a weak effort, it would be a satisfactory distraction. Choking for air and continuing to bleed from random points in his body, Demetrius already felt lightheaded. Sticking out a hand, he steadied himself on his desk. Bitch, he thought angrily. The world spun quickly for the hitwitch as she was turned rather unceremoniously upside-down, breaking her concentration on the suffocation curse as her all her attention went to preventing her robes from falling down over her head. It wasn't even so much as exposing herself (which was a concern, yes) or not being able to see as that the portkey was still in her pocket, covered with a handkerchief, and if it fell out, her lifeline was gone. She couldn't reach it now without risking it falling out, but she could shove the fabric of her robes between her knees and squeeze so it at least stayed in there. "Septumsempra!" she cried, trying to use his own curse against him but mispronouncing it. She sent a few more spells at him, "Reducto! Expelliarmus!" and one for her ("Protego!") then turned her wand on her foot - she needed to get down. As soon as he could breathe again he laughed at her failed attempt to use Severus's spell, stepping away as the Reducto tore through his desk, but losing his wand in the process. Diving for it, his shoes making a disgusting squelching noise- half full of blood- as he moved, he grabbed it quickly, though his grip was slick with blood. He shot a silent Liberacorpus at her. "Diffindo, Deprimo ," he added in rapid succession, hoping for a second to catch his breath after the prolonged suffocation. "Expelliarmus," was thrown lazily, almost as an afterthought. He coughed and made a vain attempt to wipe his hands of blood. She hit the ground hard, head first, and she tried to regain her composure and find her portkey, but before she could even fully figure out which way was up, she was hit by the severing charm right in the buttock. She yelped and before she could even think about anything other than the pain in her arse she was hit again, hard, the blast hitting her right in the hip and throwing her backward. She lay there a moment, barely even aware of the flash of red light that hit the wall right where she had just been and bounced off harmlessly. When she spoke, her voice was weak, fragile. "Still the gentleman, Mr. Mulciber." Demetrius wasn't particularly interested in what the hitwitch had to say, but he felt the need to humour her because up until half an hour ago, he'd liked her all right. He did think of himself as a rather gentlemanly sort, he hadn't killed her. At least she knew her manners in that regard, he supposed. So crossing his arms over his chest, he squared his shoulders and looked down at her. "I don't understand your meaning," he said coolly, implying he wanted her to elaborate without directly asking, something he was far too proud to do. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to regain her strength, then they flicked up to her former "superior officer" face. She had almost liked him too, despite knowing he was a Death Eater. Her answer came with the same tone it would have just a few hours before, back when she was still simply a rather dedicated Law Enforcement Squad member from Tinworth who had organised Umbridge's birthday celebration. "Thank you for helping me down," she clarified, eyes flicking up to the ceiling so he would know what she meant - the counter-spell he had used to let her down from the ceiling - then, hand clenched around her wand, she flung it up to point at him and yelled "Crucio!" trying to hold the spell on him as she fumbled around with her other hand, reaching across her hips to try to grasp the portkey inside her pocket. The angle was awkward, but her hand was almost there. "Crucio," she growled again, recasting the curse but it was weaker. Almost there... The pain knocked Demetrius off his feet nearly instantly, and an unwilling and particularly horrible scream of pain escaped his protesting throat. But it wasn't the worst Cruciatus he had felt, not even by a long shot. Even the few seconds Rodolphus had subjected him too after the Greyback debacle had been more painful- but oh God Rodolphus. Another anguished cry before her curses power flickered off and he was able to feebly push himself up. "Imperio," he said in a weak voice. It probably wasn't the strongest he'd ever casted, but it would have to do. His arm tingled, and he made his command. Let's take a walk to the DMLE holding cell, was his simple order. Killing her seemed silly now, perhaps they could use her for information on the vigilantes. The Imperiused woman did as she was told, though someplace inside of her a small battle was raging as Patty struggled to recall how to throw off an Imperius curse. She had been taught it, and well, but years had passed and never before did her life depend on it as much as it did now. She followed his orders, lifting her wand and unlocking the door of Mulciber's office, stepping out into the general milling about area where some people were still signing the card she brought and eating the cake she'd asked Dobbs to bring. Their eyes were on her, but under the Imperius curse, Patty was oblivious. Demetrius followed her out, his wand trained on his back. He ignored the stares of her coworkers as he followed, covered and dripped blood, his entire body protesting the ache of the Cruciatus. He kept his face impassive to the others, even though the general murmur of "what's going on?" did not escape his attention. A little faster, he demanded to his new prisoner of sorts. If she escaped now, it wouldn't look good for him. Patty's feet moved faster, though she had a noticeable limp from where Demetrius' last blast had hit her hip and she couldn't manage too much faster. Somewhere inside, she was finding the Imperius curse nice - the pain had dulled and she began to wonder why she was still fighting it. It would be so much easier to just slip into the easy blackness of the curse, the non-remembering, the relaxing lack of responsibility for anything. It would be so easy... but something nagged her in the back of her mind. A voice she hadn't heard too often since she left school but had been very familiar then, the one telling her not to give in and to take control back. No. No, she had been good at this once. She and Jovana, her study partner at Durmstrang, had spent weeks practising the Imperius Curse on one another and throwing it off. They had gotten daring, they had gotten silly, and they had gotten good at it. It had been a decade before that she had been good at it, but that same voice was still there, the voice telling her she didn't have to do what he said, that she could take control back of her body and... She turned on her heel, suddenly. "Death Eater," she cried out, deciding to make her last moments in the Ministry count, "Death Eater and Muggle-killer! You'll never have Albion!" She shot an Entrail-Expelling Curse at him, then threw up a Shield Charm and dug her hand into her pocket, searching for the portkey. She was leaving. His luck turned at the right instant, and Demetrius was able to clumsily dodge the curse. How ironic that would have been. "Incendio," he snapped, not aiming particularly well, but not really caring. He didn't even want to try anything complicated. He just wanted to take a nap or sit down at the very least. Catching this terrorist dropped several spaces on his priority list as his head lightened considerably. "Good riddance," he snapped irritably. His spell hit her shield the moment her hand clasped around the portkey, and something jerked as her feet lifted off the ground and she felt as if she was speeding into-- something, and suddenly she was on the floor in the main room of the Order Safehouse, the afternoon light flooding through the windows and a flurry of voices heard from other rooms. She would have sank to the floor if she hadn't already been sitting, and her hand moved cautiously up to her face, touching her cheeks and her forehead to ensure she was really still all there. She became aware of another person in the room behind her and turned to see Moody, pouring over plans for that night's arson of the Greengrass home. "Alastor," she called out, realising she was shaking violently. The last few minutes had all suddenly hit her, all the pain and the panic she had been holding off all came crashing in at once and she was finding it difficult to breath. "Alastor," she gasped, "I've been compromised." |