Whiskey Dreams

It's been like this for almost a full month since Grindelwald came to power, since MACUSA was toppled and Piquery thrown into a high-security cell. A month since he lost so many of his aurors during the Battle, since Grindelwald had installed his own force, full of eager young wizards who terrorized no-majs left and right. Who terrified even magical folk into submission. It's been like this for almost a full month and Graves is sitting in his office sipping coffee, watching the snow fall outside his window. A pile of paperwork is in his lap and for one peaceful moment he imagines that everything is like before, that outside his heavy oak doors his aurors click across the marble floors and secretaries gossip in hushed voices and Red rolls the coffee cart from floor to floor. Percival squeezes his eyes shut to try to remember but it is too late and the reality of his situation hits him like a point blank curse. The papers resting limp in his hands are execution orders, printed on bone white parchment and waiting for him to sign. They've come straight from Grindelwald. Exactly one floor above the (former) Department of Magical Law Enforcement, their new ruler sits in Seraphina's office, in her chair, slowly sentencing everyone Percival cares about to death with a flick of his hand. Every day new execution orders come down on paper mice, and every day Grindelwald sends his force out into the streets to round up wizards supportive of the old regime.

It's not Percival's fault, but really, who is he kidding, it kind of is. He signs off on the papers, his swirling, confident signature effectively concealing the tremble of his hand. He hasn't earned Grindelwald's trust completely yet, and he sure as hell isn't going to test his luck. It's safer for everyone, in the long run, to simply sign, send the papers on their way, and drink enough to block it out later. When he tries to sleep in his dark apartment, all he can think of is the Battle, and his aurors, and Seraphina, and his own shame and guilt settling into the pit of his stomach.

It was at the MACUSA Ball. Senators and ambassadors flocked around him and Seraphina, shaking hands and making polite small talk. Although he enjoyed seeing his aurors all dressed up, dancing with their significant others to the orchestra, these events, frankly, were an enormous headache. He had spent a week planning and checking for security holes but still, the chances of an attack, with all the most important MACUSA officials in one room...

Graves shook his head and turned his attention back to the table, where the Director of Finance was droning on about the exchange rate between British and American magical currency. Sensing a break in the conversation, Seraphina eyed Graves and stood up.

"Please excuse me, I think it is about time to make the rounds. Director Graves, will you join me?" She stared pointedly at him. 

"Of course"

He linked arms with her and they hurried away from the head table.

"Lord, if that man kept talking for one more minute, one more second, I can't even imagine,..."

Graves let a small laugh escape him. "We better actually make the rounds then, before anyone thinks the President and the Director of Magical Security are trying to escape"

Seraphina rolled her eyes. "I know, Perce, you would be better off doing something useful with your time, you have a case to work on, more important issues to discuss-"

"Hey, come on, my office is that way! Just a little bit of last minute paperwork"

"Percival!"

"I'm kidding. Kind of. We do have a big case, of course..."

Seraphina smiled at someone passing by. "Oh, just try to forget about all the Grindelwald stuff for tonight. You want some firewhiskey?" She pointed at at some glasses being passed around on a silver tray.

"It's hard to forget, Sera" He shook his head and surveyed the room. The top MACUSA officials all in one room, one convenient location. An easy target, despite all his security measures, and Merlin knows what all of Grindelwald's followers were planning. The man himself had certainly shown an eagerness before for overthrowing governments in Europe. Even his aurors, dancing and downing flutes of champagne, had their hands close to their wands, he could tell. 

"Relax, Percival. You're the best damn auror MACUSA's seen since your great great grandfather. I have total confidence in you and your team." 

Percival sighed. "I hope you're right"

"I'm always right"

"Except when you shouted out the wrong answer in Professor Johnson's Potions class."

"Okay, except then."

They floated along through the crowd, Seraphina asking about spouses and children and grandchildren and Percival smiling cooly at the various bureaucrats and legislators clamoring to shake hands. Glancing around the room again, he spotted Tina Goldstein, recently demoted, sitting at a table talking to her sister and looking sorry for herself. 

"Excuse me, Madam President," he said aloud.

"Of course"

He slipped away from the crowd towards the table in the back of the room.

"Goldstein" he said in greeting as he closed the distance between them.

Tina looked up and let out a small, genuine smile. 

"Hello, sir"

"May I have this dance?"

She slowly stood up, looking not a little bit flustered.

"Oh! Um, yes!" she got up, curtsied awkwardly in front of him while he bowed slightly.

They made their way onto the dance floor, her small heels clicking on the marble as the music began. They danced in silence for a little bit, focused on the rhythm.

Finally, Percival broke the silence. "You know it wasn't my choice to demote you, Tina. What you did upset a lot of the hardcore Rappaports supporters, and you know how they can be. My hands were tied."

"I know, sir." She looked past him, avoiding eye contact.

He sighed. "I know you know you made a mistake, and I'm trying to get you reinstated, I really am."

"You are?" Suddenly she looked right at him, eyes gleaming with hope and determination. "Sir, if you would give me a second chance, I promise I will work so hard, I'll never lose my head like that again, I'll-"

"Yes, well, you're a promising auror and an important member of the team. We'll see what the situation is by Monday."

"Thank you, Mr. Graves, thank you so much!"

Percival smiled a little to himself. She certainly was senior auror material, if she would just suppress her passions that seemed to take hold of her. Too much emotion is dangerous for an auror and the people he protects. "Don't thank me yet, Tina. We still have some hoops to jump through." The violins in the orchestra swelled.

"I expect good reports from Abernathy at Wand Permits in the meantime. That certainly will help your case" 

"Of course, sir."

And then he heard it. In fact, everyone heard it. A sickening boom as the wards around the room were shattered with pure force. Immediately, he pulled out his wand, aiming it in the direction of the breach. The orchestra stopped playing, instead looking frantically around for the source of the sound.

"O'Connor, Wiseman, Daley, start evacuating according to the protocol" Percival shouted, his voice commanding enough power and respect to rise above the panicked din and wards falling down. He glanced quickly to his left, where Tina Goldstein was already running towards the other aurors, presumably to help evacuate the civilians.

"Goldstein!" he shouted abruptly, but she didn't stop, and he gave up, focusing all his attention on the growing noise crashing against the wards. Shit. The President. He needed to protect her.

Percival sprinted towards Seraphina, calling the other aurors to surround the most important member of MACUSA. He stood directly in front of her, his wand poised, glancing quickly behind him at the aurors falling into formation.

"Percival, what the hell is going on? I thought the wards were impenetrable."

"They were supposed to be. Whoever is doing this is unusually powerful." Grindelwald. There was no doubt. It was Grindelwald, the only wizard as powerful as Percival who could break down his wards. It was Grindelwald, but he wasn't about to tell Seraphina that.

"I can see that, but-"

One final deafening boom, and unfamiliar men were pouring into the ballroom, wands raised and firing curses. Firing off stunners while looking behind him, he ordered one of the aurors to get the president out of there, damnit. 

 Already he spotted a couple aurors lying on the cold marble, kitten heels and dress shoes running, panicked, all around their prone bodies."Evacuate all the civilians, now," he yelled, and small pops of apparation thankfully began to pop up around him. Until they stopped. He could feel the anti-apparation wards the men had set up deep in his bones, the chilling darkness of the magic familiar to him in this line of work. Unfortunately, the unknown men stormed the ballroom, a steady stream of them unwavering and seeming to never end. Percival's stomach sank as he realized they were outnumbered, many of his aurors already having left to help the civilians get to safe areas. This was not good. All around him, aurors fell crashing to the floor and the men advanced deeper and deeper into the room. He prayed and prayed and prayed that his aurors were alive, that they were just stunned and not dead. He saw Tina out of the corner of his vision, engaging with three of the men, and he ran over to her, steadily throwing curses all the way. Quickly, efficiently, he knocked out two of the men. The third shot a slashing spell straight at his chest, and he ran into Tina, knocking her to the ground. He felt the blood pouring from her head dampen his suit.

"Tina! Are you okay?"

She was out, unconscious, a violent wound to her head and most likely a concussion later on.

Percival's eyes darted around the grand ballroom, surveying the damage for a quick second. He was the only auror left standing. Ryans, Robinson, and O'Connor's bodies were pouring out blood. Wiseman and Cork were lying next to each other, both taking their last breaths. Chung and McCabe's bodies were blackened and bruised, having been tossed around and slammed on the floor.The remaining civilians either lay still on the ground or were hiding under tables and waiters' trays, shooting off some weak, frightened curses at the attackers. His stomach lurched when he saw that Seraphina was nowhere to be found, yet she couldn't have apparated. Did she leave out a secret exit? Percival looked around him, truly looked. At the devastation and destruction Grindelwald's ragtag army had caused. How much they had outnumbered and overpowered his best aurors. At the dead bodies of his beloved team on the cold marble which brought pricks of tears to his eyes. The civilians who cowered under the tables and chairs, desperate for protection. At the space where the President had stood that now was worryingly empty. He was alone. Every auror either off the premises, hopefully safe and sound, unconscious, or dead around him. The President gone, the other Directors and officials dead or missing. He had exactly one chance to improve their situation, to help his team, his citizens, the President. Running would get him killed and besides, what would everyone else he abandoned do? Fighting back was useless; his wand was gone, and although his wandless magic was quite powerful, he was still outnumbered heavily, with likely hundreds more of Grindelwald's followers lurking beyond the ballroom. Yes, there truly was only one option, one chance, one opportunity, and this was it.

Distracted, he turned only to feel the smooth black wood of his wand fly out of his hand and out of sight. He left Tina on the ground, whipping around to a raggedy man winding his wand over his head, the tip glowing green.

"Wait! Stop!" Percival yelled, his voice echoing through the hall. He raised his hands up above his head, yet the man started anyway: "Avad-"

"Peters!" An accented voice broke across the hard lines of the ballroom, and the man, apparently Peters, slowly lowered his wand, the Unforgivable curse dying on his lips.

Percival dropped to his knees, still holding had hands up.

The voice stepped into the light, revealing a pale blonde man, relatively short, mismatched eyes. Graves was right, it was Grindelwald. It was the most dangerous dark wizard MACUSA had ever seen, and he was standing right before him. A chorus of sharp gasps of recognition and fear drifted out from under the tables. His followers created a circle around Percival, wands poised at his head.

Percival swallowed and turned his head slowly, trying to glance around him without the action being noticed. Between the legs of one of Grindelwald's followers he caught the eye of Queenie Goldstein, peering out from under the cocktail bar. She nodded.

Drawing up all his courage, Percival took a shaky breath. "Mr. Grindelwald, sir, I surrender. I would like to join your movement."

---

Every night, lying in bed, with a glass of whiskey on the bedside table, he relived it. He didn't know if he made the right choice. He didn't know and he stayed up every night thinking it over and pouring glass after glass. There wasn't much left, after the part where he surrendered, where he betrayed everything and everyone he believed in. All there was was Grindelwald's raised eyebrow, his order for his followers to put down their wands, his infuriating comments that he knew Percival would join, that's why he stopped Peters from killing him. His smirk and his eyes gleaming different colors suggesting his victory, Percival on his knees. He said he knew that Percival was the greatest wizard of MACUSA, of his entire generation, and that he was happy to have him fighting for what is right, what is true. They led Percival away, leaving his aurors and citizens and friends in the ballroom guarded by Peters and some others. Graves remembers Grindelwald poking around in his brain, Graves thanking the gods that he was skilled in occulmency. 

Most of all, he remembers Grindelwald's broadcast, after taking over the wizarding radio, and for that matter, all the press. He stood at the microphone and recited his script. He remembers Grindelwald's smile as he witnessed Percival Graves, the right hand man of Seraphina Piquery and star of MACUSA, pledge his allegiance to Grindelwald and the Greater Good. 

There are execution orders in his bedroom at home too, and there is a ring stain on the thick parchment from a whiskey glass, but he doubts anyone will notice. After he is done reliving the story, he takes one more glass and remembers it again. By the time he is done, the sun has risen and it is time to go to work.