Jacob 'Monster Catnip' Sloper (lopingsloper) wrote in cultureic, @ 2016-10-21 20:58:00 |
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The first time Jacob Sloper ever set foot inside the Ministry of Magic, he'd been overwhelmed by the atrium and its towering ceiling. By the bustle of people hurrying off to work. By the sense of grandeur and purpose that seemed to ebb and flow out of every inch of the place. He'd never felt more like a kid, fresh out of Hogwarts and dressed up in a suit and tie his mother had picked out for him, and he'd never been more excited. Today as he stepped into the Ministry, all he saw was a trap; rows of jagged metal teeth on either side tensed and ready to snap him in two, and he was limping straight down the middle. The atrium's high, vaulted walls felt like they were closing in on him. Every glance sent his way felt like a hunter's scope honing in. Pip had given him the chance to turn himself in. ...and six months ago, he might have trusted him to honour that. Hobbling into the first elevator he could reach, he spared the other occupants a tight, patented Sloper not-smile; an indication that he was acknowledging them, but that should give him, his scars, and his injuries a wide berth. He hit the button for the Critters Department, watched the doors slide closed and then waited. With every floor that passed, the pit in his stomach tightened and twisted. He was really doing this. Was he really doing this? It wasn't too late to turn around. If Pip had told the other Death Eaters in the Ministry, he could take his chances fighting his way out. He'd make it out or he'd die trying. ...and would that be so bad? Before he'd had time to fully consider that, the doors slid open and he'd arrived. The Critters Department. His Department. The one he'd given more than half his life to. Stepping out of the elevator and onto the office floor, he took a deep breath, and waited. He could've sworn he heard metal creaking. But when the Death Eater Head arrived – Pip, Philip Avery, several inches shorter than the other northerner, so much more dangerous than he ever seemed before – his hands were empty. He splayed his palms, gesturing for the injured Sloper to step further into the department. (Come into my den, said the spider to the—) Several of the few-remaining employees had already looked up, going dead-still at the sight of their new Head and former Deputy facing each other across that row of desks. Was this going to be another O’Shea incident? When Avery smiled, it looked forced, a baring of teeth. “Glad to see you giving yourself up voluntarily, Sloper. No need for unpleasantries. C’mon in and have some fucking tea.” He’d replaced the tea-set in his office. Jacob nodded once. "Tea. Right." The chuckle he let out was short and dark. Little bastard really was a chip off the old block. Wincing as he shifted his weight onto his bad leg, he started the slow trek towards Avery's office, glancing around the room as he did. Old faces he didn't recognise anymore. New ones he wanted to smear into a wet, red mess. And everywhere he looked, empty desks; friends who'd died. Kids he'd trained up from the start who'd been chased off. Good people reduced to nothing but memory and gossip. The uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the Department was only broken by the squeak of Jacob's shoes as he hobbled along. Squeak. Squeak. Creak. When he finally reached Pip, he nodded tersely, "I appreciate this." Those words, that gravelly rumble and gratitude, dislodged something painful in Pip’s chest. The boy (for that’s what he was beside this man, his boss, the one who’d first welcomed him to the Critters department) practically winced. But it didn’t stop him: he still opened the door, still led the way into the private office that had once been Grubbly-Plank’s. All of the curses and hexes in the room had been cleanly removed, though the desk still looked as if it had been half-eaten, and one end-table still hung upside down in the corner (they hadn’t been able to unstick that one). Perching himself on the edge of that once-living desk, Pip’s face was stormy as he looked at Sloper. Taking in this battered wreck of a man. No, werewolf. “Looks like you were someone’s chew-toy,” Pip said evenly, flatly. Hanging inside the doorway, one hand in his jacket pocket, fingers toying restlessly with what was inside, Jacob stiffened when he heard what Pip had to say. Was he gloating? "Yeah, I guess two or three rounds with Greyback will do that to you." He grunted in reply, whatever civility he'd managed to force into his voice already straining. "Weird how he got my address, isn't it?" “Peculiar, innit.” Something had definitely changed over the past month (or past year, or five) with Avery, his mask sliding off and exposing something ugly beneath. There was a constant low-ebb anger and frustration buzzing in his skin these days, as he wrote off the people who didn’t matter, as he told himself to write them off. Aspects and corners of himself shutting down, compartmentalising. And he was watching Jacob closely now, his eyes bright. “Alright, so, I’m actually curious. How the shit did you manage to keep it secret? I went through all the registry files when I first got this job. All of ‘em. You’re nowhere to be found. The higher-ups must not’ve known, right? And then working for the DRMC anyway? That’s ballsy.” "'Ballsy'," Jacob echoed with another dark chuckle. How had he ever liked this kid? Seen something of himself in him? Shrugging out of his jacket with a pained grunt, he hung it by the door and then settled gingerly into one of the office chairs, "Bea knew." "Some people I trusted knew. Helped me." He shook his head, "As for still working here? Got bit in the line of duty. Didn't see that it changed anything, I still wanted to help people. To protect them." Straightening up in his seat, he squared his shoulders and stared Avery down, "I've worked here for twenty-six years now, I believe-- believed in what this Department was for, in what we were supposed to be." “Not enough to share who you really were with them.” That was rich, coming from this particular young man, but the irony wasn’t lost on Pip. “Why not register, then, if you believed in it so much?” "Thought about it. Beat myself up over it a few times." Jacob fixed Avery with a cold, hard glare, "Guess it saved my ass in the end, though, didn't it? You were here the whole time, working for them." "Was the Lupin leak you? Those five registered weres that just lost it? How many times did you completely fuck us over for your 'cause'?" More times than Philip Avery could count. It had been five years of working from the inside: funnelling recruits into the palm of Greyback’s hand, sparing murderers and killers, swelling the ranks of the Dark Army with anyone lost between the margins. So Avery didn’t dignify it with a response. He just met Jacob’s eye, flinty and tired and appraising, as he gave a shrug of the shoulders. Jacob felt the anger rising up in him as he watched Avery simply shrug it off, and shook his head, "So what's the plan, then? Lock me up? Or something a little more… public? Show everyone that Pip Avery's got some steel in him. That you didn't just get this job because of 'Daddy'?" That touched a nerve, as a flicker shot across the Death Eater’s face, a scowl that he just barely reined in. Still leaning against his own desk (once Bea’s), Pip glowered at this man who had once been something of a father figure himself: the first boss who saw something more in Pip than his pure blood, recognised something he’d fought for and made himself, his own efforts and hard work. Something he deserved. A department they’d both loved. “Well, you’re a dangerous animal, aren’t you?” Pip said stiffly, remembering the smell of old meat on Fenrir Greyback’s breath. The sensation of claws ripping his legs and arms and shoulders, on so many different full moons. The hungry way they looked at him whenever he walked into a Dark Army camp. “You’re just saving the Werewolf Capture Unit some work by bringing yourself in, for which I’m grateful. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Sloper.” And with a flick of his wand, he summoned up a set of metal shackles, with silver chains. Jacob's eyes widened as the shackles materialised from the tip of Avery's wand. It was now or never. He nodded once, slowly, eyeing the chains appraisingly, trying to figure out just how quick he'd need to be. "Yeah, about that…" All at once, he surged up out of his chair, old wounds and sore muscles screaming in protest as he went for his wand as fast as he possibly could. Turning to where he'd left his jacket, he shot off a precise "Finite Incantatem!" hoping he'd hit his mark. Then, before the spell had even reached its target, he reached into his trouser pocket with his free hand, throwing a brief, "Changed my mind!" Avery's way as his fingers closed around the portkey he'd stashed there and he vanished with a quiet 'pop'. Which left Pip alone in his office—but not for long, as he looked sharply over at the wriggling jacket in the corner, where something inside it started to grow. And grow. And grow. |