Darius Pucey

Be patient. We’re collecting evidence. We need a strong case or they’ll find a way out. We’re pursing leads. Those were all things Teddy would say.

She was tired of waiting, Tired even of what she’d tricked herself into thinking was being proactive and sitting around in an attic playing militia and learning to cast patronuses and curses that everyone agreed should only be cast in a real life combat situations when there was a need and a clear target.

Life was a combat scenario, and they had some pretty fucking clear targets. Why wait until they were on the defensive again? Surprised again? Until people, the wrong people, were dying again?

So there wasn’t enough evidence to put Mia Selwyn away. She, and Jonathan Marks, wherever he was, and everyone who’d helped them were going to walk around undeterred like Darius Pucey had done for years and continue to do more harm as Darius had done and would continue to do. She’d place all her money on Darius having been one of the masked figures at the wedding, having killed and paralyzed and injured and then gone home to Victoire who found him so interesting she’d make him famous if he wasn’t so domestic.

If there wasn’t enough evidence, she would get more quickly before they struck again, or she’d end up doing something more extreme . What was needed was for one weak link, someone who could expose the rest of the group, more involved than Lara and able to turn evidence on someone that was still in the country. Elektra was the obvious choice, and Roxanne would have thought she’d see her even when she’d shut herself off in her flat and stopped going to even classes and her internship as far as Roxanne knew, if only for the chance of making up a story she’d believe—and Roxanne might have, she’d wanted to that first week or two of shock. But Elektra had seemed to sense a trap and wouldn’t return an owl much less see her. Mia was even more inaccessible, to Roxanne at least. Tyler she was sure was involved but he was protected at the castle.

That left Darius, and the thought didn’t daunt her. It was a little too comfortable if anything, a happy duty, thinking of applying pressure until he broke, She told herself the pride was going to be in the information, not the method she got him to talk. She hadn’t been able to help anyone at the wedding. She wouldn’t fail at this.

It was premeditated in the extreme, dark clothes and gloves bought and stashed in the safe at Wheezes, disillusionment charms and back alley navigation practiced every day for a week, Hair tamed and coiled in a smooth bun that lay close to the head and would be stuffed under a hat with no flyaways to be left anywhere on the day and a big huff after she was already home from work, loud complaints to Colin about Artemis being scheduled to take inventory by accident even though it was a school night and how she needed to go back into work to do the Thursday night count and order for next shipment after hours.

She’d be back soon she told him.

She retrieved her clothes from work and made herself invisble , completely disillusioned, and hid by the back door of Zonko’s for someone to come out with the night deposit to the bank. Darius, or Melinda, she couldn’t be picky in that regard, though there was a tricky extra step if she was forced to grab Melinda. She didn’t have the same assurance of guilt with Melinda. She wasn’t as deserving as Darius. She waited so long she almost gave up. Maybe Zonko’s didn’t deposit their earnings every night.

She recited the recipe for wolf’s bane potion to keep calm, the potion she’d been memorizing for OWLs when Darius sat waiting for her on a night much like this. She’d never forget that potion.

Finally Darius and it went so quickly she almost didn’t get the immobilus out of her mouth, but he went rigid and she went into action, catching the door before it closed, wedging Darius’s now stiff body into it until she pushed him back inside and followed, locking the door back behind them.

He was stretched on the floor, his eyes only able to see above him. He looked at the ceiling sheer panic flooding his body. It was Jonathan. He’d some how found out that Darius’ devotion was wavering. It was Wolf. He was somehow back, somehow alive. It was Adrian. Come back for one last shot at his son. It was Roxanne. 

He saw her now, standing over him. She seemed so calm and collected. He supposed on the surface he must too, unable to move, to talk to do anything but dart his eyes around the room looking for anything that could help him escape. He could feel his hand pressing into his skin but he couldn’t reach, his hands were locked by his sides. He was helpless. He should have expected it. He should have been more prepared. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to be in this situation. He had so many regrets. 

Sometimes he imagined that his attack on Roxanne had never happened. His life had never veered so off course. He was graduated, studying in line for working at the ministry. He was close with Jonathan, he was his right hand man and they were strong, so strong they couldn’t be stopped. Adrian would be proud that his son had become the pure blood nobility he had always been destined for. Darius wouldn’t be on the dirty floor of his joke shop with a teenage girl looming over him, about to get her revenge.

He didn’t blame her. His anger at her was strong of course it consumed him, but since exchanging letters, finding out so much about her family and past, he realised how similar they really were. They were both so desperate to cling onto a life they had dreamt about.

This was it. She had no reason to keep him alive. She thought he’d killed Rose after all, he’d been a hooded figure, he could have hurt more of her family members. She was going to get her ultimate revenge. 

If he could have cried he would have. He would have wept and pleaded for his life, apologized for everything he had done. He was a coward. He was tired. He didn’t want to fight anymore, he didn’t want to hide in the shadows. Darius just wanted it to be over, and maybe finally he would get that.

She shrugged with nonchalance. “As long as you keep up with that statement and it stays true, it’s all fine with me. We all have our stupid weaknesses. Like I’m not punching your sister every time I see her annoying face. You know what I mean. Tolerance.” She wasn’t that annoyed by the younger Pucey, but she figured it would represent a good example so he could understand properly a circumstance he was probably already aware of.

“Be honest with me and we won’t have any problems,” she continued, standing up casually and starting walking around the living room. “Don’t shudder, big boy, I’m not going to write an article about you. It’s hardly a surprise you’re one of the guys with fangs and claws. Nobody would care to read an axiom in the newspaper. No offence. It’s just… all things considered.”

Victoire sighed. She didn’t want to be too insensitive, although the situation felt a bit funny to her now that the cards were on the table. “I don’t want you in Azkban. Don’t change that and we can stay besties. Simple as that.”

“Yeah well you’re lucky she hasn’t punched you. I can tell you now she is not happy about our living arrangement.” He chuckled as he spoke. Now was as good a time as any to let Victoire know of Melinda’s distaste although he suspected she already had some sort of idea, his sister wasn’t exactly hiding it. 

He was a little surprised to hear her discussion the situation so frankly, when he had been so intent on directing the conversation away from his misdeeds. If she were telling the truth he would be relieved, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she would always be a snake in the grass. “Honesty. I’ll do my best. Do I come clean now that I lied when I said I’d cleaned the shower?” 

“Some offense taken. I would make a very good article I think you’ll find. People would want to read about me. If I ever do end up there I promise I’ll give you the first scoop. Least I can do.”

The amount of fight it took not to immediately start shaking her head was unexpected. She couldn’t keep in the huff, however, and stood there, staring at nothing and gritting her teeth for a moment. “He hasn’t cared about that for a long time.”

Darius could tell he hadn’t said the right thing and tried to change tact, comforting his sister. “Maybe not. He doesn’t need to. You don’t need him to care, none of us do.”