Chapter Text
Artwork by @neenerosa
Kingsley
Monday, June 13, 2005
Kingsley Shacklebolt hovered on his broom above the raging waters near Azkaban prison at half past noon. Despite it being summertime, the pelting rain and frigid winds whipped at his face. He cast a protection and warming charm around himself as he waited just inside the apparition wards for the signal from the guards that Prisoner 9738 was ready for release.
As Minister of Magic he didn’t usually oversee something as mundane as the release of prisoners, but he had been anticipating this one for quite some time. He reached into his robes and pulled out a copy of today’s Daily Prophet.
DEATH EATER TO BE RELEASED 23 YEARS EARLY FROM AZKABAN
Minister Receives Harsh Criticism from Wizarding Europe
The story was accompanied by a photo of Corban Yaxley behind bars, clothed in prison garb, laying on a dirty cot with his hands resting behind his head, feet crossed, staring up at the ceiling of his cell. If it were not for a slight twitch of the prisoner’s pinky finger, Kingsley would have thought the photo was taken with a Muggle camera. He was so still.
Kingsley skimmed through the article, reading through the details of the Death Eater’s incarceration. Yaxley was sentenced to 30 years in Azkaban on seven counts of administering torture via the Cruciatus curse, and eleven counts of unlawful abduction of a minor. Kingsley’s body stiffened as he read the next line.
Sujatha Patil, mother of two students injured in the Battle of Hogwarts, thinks the Minister is making a mistake. “If you ask me, I think Minister Shacklebolt has lost touch with reality,” she said. “He’s letting a monster loose.”
With a huff, Kingsley angrily crumpled the newspaper in his fist and tossed it into the sea.
A spark from a wand below rose to meet him in the sky – it was time. He leaned his body forward and gripped the handle of his broom, sending him flying down to a small landing near the prison entrance where two guards were waiting.
“Good afternoon, Minister,” said one of the guards. “The prisoner will be out any minute.”
“Excellent news,” Kingsley said. “I’d prefer to escort him to the Ministry myself.”
The guard looked at him with mild shock. “But sir, that’s not typical protocol. We always side-along apparate a prisoner directly to the DMLE at the Ministry.”
“Protocol is different today. As Minister of Magic, I will do this my way.”
The young guard was smart enough to keep his mouth shut after that.
Less than a minute later the iron doors of the prison swung open and Corban Yaxley, flanked by two more guards, stepped through the threshold into the cold. His eyes looked gleeful as he took in his new surroundings and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. “Ahhh,” he sighed and said to the guards, “It’s been a pleasure, sirs. Can’t say I’ll miss you, though,” as a smirk formed on his lips.
Kingsley cleared his throat. “Yaxley.”
Yaxley’s head whipped in the direction of the sounds of his name. “Kingsley, I…didn’t see you there.” He paused with a look of incredulity before he continued. “To what do I owe the honor of meeting with the Minister of Magic on the first day of my freedom?”
“You’ll be riding with me to the Ministry today.”
“Oh, goody!” Yaxley sarcastically exclaimed.
Kingsley mounted his broom then turned to the four guards who all had varying looks of disgust on their faces. “Thank you, gentlemen. I can take it from here.” Then with a glance toward the disheveled ex-prisoner he said, “Hop on, Yaxley. We’ll side-along once we fly past the wards.”
Yaxley did as he was told, and as soon as he flung his leg over the broom and held on, Kingsley shot into the sky towards the edge of the wards. With a crack! the two wizards were gone.
***
They landed in a heap on the floor of the lobby of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the DMLE, for short. Kingsley rushed to his feet and extended a hand to Yaxley to help pull him up.
“For Merlin’s sake, Yaxley. Keep your feet steady next time.”
“I’m a bit rusty at apparition, I guess.” Yaxley held his hands out in a wide shrug. “It has been seven very long years,” Yaxley drawled.
The DMLE secretary, a young wizard fresh out of Hogwarts, looked up from his desk and jumped out of his seat in surprise. “Minister! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said with a half smile as he brushed off his robes. “Mr. Yaxley is here to fill out his Azkaban discharge papers. Can you please help him get sorted?”
The secretary nodded once. “Of course, Minister.”
“Once his paperwork is complete, please give him back his wand, and then send him to my office for a quick debrief.” Kingsley turned and glared at Yaxley. “You’ll be fitted with a Permanent Tracking charm, so don’t even think about walking out of here before you and I discuss your probation and future plans. I have an offer you might be interested in.”
***
Kingsley was pacing in his office when his secretary, Regina Crabbe, walked in and announced that Yaxley had arrived. He reached into the drawer beside his desk and grabbed two lowball glasses and the bottle of 1998 Ogden’s firewhiskey that he’d been saving for a special occasion.
“Let him in, Regina.”
She held open the door and a hesitant Yaxley walked in, eyes pointed directly at him. It unnerved him in ways he didn’t want to admit.
He gestured toward the tufted black leather armchair. “Have a seat, Corban.” As Yaxley sat, he took a moment to look him over. His salt and pepper hair was longer, almost down to the middle of his back, but nothing else seemed much different. He was still the same man he went to Hogwarts with. Still the same man that had sided with Lord Voldemort. Still the same man that he… No, he couldn’t think about that now.
“So I’m Corban again? Not Yaxley. Not ex-Death Eater. Not scum of the earth? Just Corban?”
He ignored the question and poured them each two fingers of whiskey, then slid a glass toward Yaxley. “As I mentioned earlier, I have an offer you might be interested in.” Kingsley leaned against the back of his chair, clasping his hands behind his head for some support. “But first I need some information from you, Corban.”
Kingsley had heard rumors over the seven years that Yaxley spent in Azkaban – that he wasn’t like all the other Death Eater inmates. He never stepped a foot out of line, he was helpful, and perhaps more surprising, that he was consistently apologizing to anyone who would listen that he was sorry for what happened. Remorseful, even. It was one of the reasons Kingsley had pushed so hard to get him released.
“I need to know your current political leanings, Corban.” Yaxley eyes opened wide in…surprise? Is that what that look was?
Yaxley sipped his drink. “I’m an ex-Death Eater. Which way am I supposed to lean but Pro-Pureblood and Pro-Dark Magic?”
“See, that’s what gets me. If you truly are Pro-Pureblood as you just put it, then we have nothing to talk about.” Kingsley paused and took a deep breath. “But you keep calling yourself an ‘ex’ Death Eater. And those two things don’t usually co-exist.” Kingsley leaned forward and pressed his palms into the surface of the desk. He didn’t remove his gaze from Yaxley’s eyes. “Do you regret it?”
Yaxley closed his eyes, and with all the fervor in the world said to Kingsley, “Of course I fucking regret it. I just spent seven years in the literal bowels of the earth, and every day I was reminded that I should have made a different choice all the way back in 1978.”
“I knew it. I fucking knew it.” The corners of Kingsley’s mouth raised in a small smile. “I knew you never believed that pureblood bullshit.” He wanted to let all the words spill from his mouth, but instead he tipped his drink back, taking in a gulp of alcohol that burned as it went down.
“I’m taking a significant amount of flack from the Wizarding community about your release. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I…well…knowing the person that you were back at Hogwarts and the pressures that you were under from your family –”
Yaxley interrupted him. “How did you get me out early, Kingsley?”
“I’m Minister of Magic. I say I want something, and I get it.”
“What exactly do you want?” Yaxley questioned.
“I should think it was obvious.” His stomach flipped a thousand times as he let those words escape. He felt like a schoolboy again, drunk in first love. “But to answer your first question, I pulled some strings. Made some promises to the right people who are generous in their contributions toward the DMLE.”
Yaxley’s expression was unreadable. It made Kingsley question whether or not he should have been so bold. He cleared his throat, mostly to stifle the doubt that crept in, and decided to change the subject to the matter at hand. “Look, I realize your options will be limited in terms of what you do from here, now that you’ve been released and must begin your probation.”
He stood up and walked around to the front of his desk then leaned back against it. “Your family fortunes have been relinquished to the Ministry, unfortunately due to a law I implemented back in 1999, so you’ll need some money.”
“What law?” Yaxley asked suspiciously.
“The Post-War Compensation and Care Act. Now we simply call it the Care Act. The Wizengamot passed the bill unanimously.” He took another gulp of whiskey. “The law states that ‘those convicted of crimes, and families of those convicted of crimes’ in the Second Wizarding War must pay for damages to all Muggles and other magical families who suffered both human and monetary losses. Your Gringotts vaults are empty.” Another gulp of booze.
“ Families of those convicted of crimes? Guilty by association? You’d punish them just for being related to the wizards and witches doing the dirty deeds?”
Kingsley slammed his glass down, splashing whiskey on his own arm. Yaxley jumped back at the clatter.
“BECAUSE IT WAS THEIR FAULT!” Kingsley screamed. “It was their money that gave aid to Voldemort all those years. Their devotion to that bastard that caused so much pain.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep steadying breath to calm down. And then he looked up and said in a voice no louder than a whisper, “They’re the reason you became a dark wizard. They took you from me.”
Yaxley knocked back the rest of his drink. “Can I have another?” he asked as he held his empty glass out to Kingsley, who obliged and poured him another two fingers.
“So I have no money,” Yaxley said.
Kingsley nodded. “Not even a single Galleon. You still have your manor. We couldn’t find a way around the blood magic, or we would have taken that as well. Though you will find it empty of all belongings.”
“And this is true for all pureblood families that were sympathetic to Voldemort?”
“Yes. The Crabbes. The Goyles. The Parkinsons. The Lestranges. The Malfoys. Notts, Yaxleys, Carrows, all of them. The only two families unscathed were the Zabinis and Greengrasses. We tried to pin something on them but came up short. I am here to offer you a job as an auror for the DMLE. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s something to get you back on your feet.”
“What makes you think I want to work at the DMLE?” Yaxley scoffed.
Kingsley poured himself another glass of firewhiskey before he responded. “I don’t. But you’re a good fighter and strategist. And there are no better options for you. The Care Act wasn’t the only piece of legislation the Ministry passed in the immediate aftermath of the war. You have to understand, Corban. I loathe the blood purists. I hate them,” Kingsley sneered, “with every fiber of my being and I wanted to take them down after we won. For good.”
Yaxley reached out and took Kingsley’s hand in his. “Tell me what you did.”
Kingsley felt the blood rush to the hand that Yaxley held. He felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in decades. With as much calm as he could muster, he told him.
“I destroyed them.”
He told Yaxley about the laws. In addition to the Care Act, he described the Diversity at Diagon Act, a law banning all Death Eater families and their progeny from owning or operating businesses in Diagon Alley. This, in combination with the Care Act, financially crippled the families. They were broke. Kingsley had to admit to himself how satisfying it was to see wizards like the Notts begging and pleading for low wage jobs. Young Theo was once spotted sleeping in a back alleyways on Knockturn.
But cutting them off financially was only step one in his plan for revenge. He wanted to humiliate and demean them. Enter the Rehabilitation and Jobs Act. He was shocked that it received enough votes to pass the Wizengamot because at its core, it was as close to unpaid labor as they could get. And it was mandatory for them. It was a cruel act, to be sure, but a necessary one. It forced the wives or husbands of Death Eaters to serve the members of high ranking Ministry members in a low-wage “secretarial” capacity. At least that’s what the public thought. He made sure that the language in the law was vague enough and could be left for individual interpretation so that no one would ask questions.
Some of the department heads took liberties with these assignments. There were no rules or guidelines about how they should be treated. No employee handbook to follow. Kingsley looked the other way when negative reports started rolling in after their employment had begun.
His own secretary, Regina Crabbe, was never allowed to look him in the eyes, and to bow whenever he walked in the room. He forced her to crawl on her knees and grovel at his feet if she made a mistake. She made a lot of mistakes in the beginning, but after five years of “servitude,” she was a weak little mouse who did as she was told. Cleaned his robes, rubbed his feet, got his lunches, massaged his shoulders. She had it quite easy, Kingsley thought to himself. There were others that weren’t so fortunate.
“They fucking deserve it, Corban,” he concluded.
Yaxley’s face was unreadable as he took a minute to take it all in.
“Merlin, Kingsley. What happened to you?” Yaxley prodded, not really expecting an answer.
“ You happened to me, Corban. Maybe we aren’t so different. Maybe you wish you hadn’t become a Death Eater. And maybe I wish that I hadn’t been so good and Light. I’ve never felt so much regret and hate as the moment you were carted off to Azkaban.”
Yaxley stood up from his chair and took a step toward him. He set his glass down on the desk, then brushed his hand over Kingsley’s fingers. He leaned in, their lips an inch apart. “Then I’ll take your offer Kingsley. I’ll work for the Ministry.”
In a split second, Kingsley grabbed Yaxley by the back of his neck, forcefully grabbing a fistful of his long gray hair between his fingers, then kissed him. Hard.
He pulled back and waved his wand at the door, “Muffliato!” He smiled at Yaxley and they continued placing kisses on each other's lips, necks, cheeks, hands. “Sweet Circe, I’ve missed this,” Kingsley muttered into Yaxley’s mouth.
***
Thursday, June 15, 2006 - One year later
Yaxley had been free from Azkaban for a little over a year and things couldn’t be better, at least in Kingsley’s humble opinion. He had had to stomp out any suspicion of favoritism by paying Rita Skeeter a hefty sum to place a handful of well-timed articles in the Daily Prophet. In the immediate aftermath of Yaxley’s release, he made sure the court of public opinion turned in the right direction. After all, everyone wanted to know why his sentence was reduced, so Kingsley gave them reasons.
The first article Rita wrote detailed Yaxley’s “exemplary” behavior while in Azkaban. The second, a biography about his life as a Slytherin at Hogwarts before he joined Voldemort during the First Wizarding War, leaning heavily into the “he had no choice because of his family” trope. The third, fourth, and fifth articles each described the raids he had been a part of with the DMLE that thwarted other dark wizards and witches since his release. Kingsley made sure that Yaxley was involved in the same important cases at that DMLE that Harry Potter would be participating in. After all, what better way to mend a tarnished image than by placing him with The Chosen One?
Tap tap tap.
Kingsley knew it was him by the way he knocked on his office door. He peered up from his desk and muttered, “Come in.”
Yaxley walked straight past Regina, his secretary, sauntered in, then waved the door closed with his wand. “Fucking gods, Shacklebolt. You are going to have a revolution on your hands if you don’t ease up on this anti-Death Eater, anti-Voldy-sympathizer bullshit.”
“For a second I thought you slammed the door shut so that you could take advantage of me,” he smirked. “And I love it when you call me by my surname.”
Yaxley sighed and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “The Order is going to catch wind of what’s happened, if they haven’t already. The laws you’ve enacted have ostracized the old blood from all of civil society. You haven’t just leveled the playing field, you’ve removed them from play completely.”
“That was my plan. Why are you so concerned, Corban?” He was genuinely interested in Yaxley’s response.
“I…well…I saw Tiberius McLaggen today to speak with him about a DMLE investigation into rogue bludgers. I caught him and Narcissa Malfoy in a most uncompromising position,” he stated with an air of nonchalance as he picked at his fingernails. “She was crying, so I will venture to guess that she didn’t quite like what she was doing.”
She deserves it, Kingsley thought. It was a simple phrase he repeated to himself when he felt doubt creep in about the measures he’d taken to eradicate the old blood. They deserve it. They all fucking deserve it. They took you from me.
“Is giving head to the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports a result of the Jobs Act? Listen, I don’t give a shite what happens to Narcissa, but I do care about what happens to you. And if anyone from the Order hears that folks are taking advantage of these laws, they’ll come for you. This is exactly the kind of corruption they love to fight against.” Yaxley let out a sigh of exasperation then leaned forward. “Potter is suspicious. He’s been talking about it at meetings.”
Kingsley, listening intently, raised an eyebrow. “Corban, did I hear you correctly? Are you on Potter's side?” he said with a half smile.
“Hmph. Never. That twat can suck my dick,” Yaxley spit out. “But sooner or later he, or someone else, will figure out what you’ve let happen here. The Prophet can’t hide this forever, no matter what you’re paying that Skeeter woman.”
Kingsley contemplated what Yaxley was saying, but he still had doubts that his power as Minister would ever be questioned. He’s been very good at spinning the news in his favor. The public doesn’t know the extent of these laws. He’s kept it as quiet as possible, and covered where he needed to cover. He was a member of the Order, for fuck’s sake. He even made a godsdamned Unbreakable Vow with Skeeter so that she’d never tell the truth about it.
When Kingsley didn’t respond, Yaxley pressed further. “The DMLE has been tracking the moves of the so-called Shadow Syndicate for months now. How long can you keep up the charade that Malfoy and his gang of deviant snakes became wizarding mafia because they enjoy thieving and committing petty crime, and not because they have no legitimate means to earn a living otherwise?”
Kingsley laughed out loud. “I think the public will believe that for a very long time. It’s how Malfoy operated at Hogwarts — as a bully. Why would the public think those characteristics didn’t simply stay with him into adulthood?”
“The Auror Office is following the money, and when they finally discover that every last Knut was taken from them, one thing will lead to another,” Yaxley quietly explained.
Kingsley shrugged. “The Auror Office may figure it out, but you forget that I am the fucking Minister of Magic! Honestly, I’m appalled you think to question me on this, Corban! The Shadow Syndicate is nothing but a small annoyance. I am in charge! Of everything,” he said with finality.
Kingsley walked around his desk and straddled Yaxley’s lap, reaching a hand down to massage his crotch. Yes, he thought. You need a distraction.
Yaxley pushed him away and stood up forcefully. “You are being too short-sighted! I’d love nothing more than to see Draco Malfoy suffer for what happened eight years ago. But Potter has too much of a savior complex to let inequality stand. And that’s how he will see the treatment of the old blood. I see how he works in the Auror Office. Always has to do what’s right, no matter the cost, and no matter who for. He’s an idiot. An idiot with a loyal following.”
Kingsley didn’t back down. He moved closer to Yaxley again, grabbed each of his hands in his own then pulled him into a standing position. “Corban, relax. Every person with authority at the Ministry is benefitting from these laws. They’re generously paid. Their businesses are thriving because we’ve forced the old blood out of Diagon. They have women. And money. And status. And freedom to act as they please.”
Fuck, all he wanted was to shut this man up and tell him it was fine. Because it was fine. He moved his hands from Yaxley’s and began stroking his arms, stepping closer. “No one is going to willingly give up their new way of living,” he whispered, his mouth grazing Yaxley’s neck.
“They’re no better than the old blood and the Death Eaters, then. You realize that don’t you? Just two sides to the same coin.” Yaxley let his head fall back as Kingsley continued pressing his lips against his neck.
“Perhaps I do know that, Corban. But it’s the way things are now, and at least none of them are following a psychopathic immortal wizard.” Kingsley moved his mouth away from Yaxley and shoved him against the wall of his office, their legs intertwined, as he pressed himself against him harder. “Fuck, Corban. Shut up,” as he moved his hands down his chest.
“Kingsley,” Yaxley said breathlessly. Kingsley stopped Yaxley from saying another word as their mouths met in a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. Kingsley moved his robes to the side and began unbuttoning Yaxley’s trousers. “Don’t," Yaxley huffed. "Not yet. We have to finish this conversation. Fuck!” Kingsley started rubbing Yaxley’s dick through his trousers. He could feel Yaxley’s erection against his own. It was intoxicating.
Yaxley began panting against him, then he said quietly, “Let me help you, Shacklebolt. I can help you. Potter’s following won’t be your only problem.” Yaxley let Kingsley pull out his dick and stroke it while he talked. “The Shadow Syndicate is becoming one of the most powerful underground crime gangs in Wizarding Europe. Let me help you bring them down. I want Draco Malfoy to pay for being such a weak little shit.” Yaxley kissed him tenderly. “Make me head of DMLE.” Another kiss. “Please.”
Kingsley removed his hand from Yaxley's dick, eyes turning questioningly at him.
“I can’t do that,” he said, shocked at what Yaxley was asking. He touched Yaxley’s cheeks with both of his hands, cradling his face as he looked at him imploringly. “I…fuck. I can’t. I want to be with you, Corban, and I want to be with you fully. I want everyone to know you’re mine, and I can’t do that if I make you head of DMLE. It would be something else I need to cover up, and I don’t want to cover you up.” He dropped his hands, but still had his body pressed against Yaxley’s.
“What’s one more cover up? Please do this for me. You and I working together. Getting revenge on the people we hate – we’d be fucking unstoppable,” Yaxley pleaded.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m telling you no, Corban.”
Yaxley pushed him away with the sudden rage of a caged beast, and Kingsley fell into the chair in front of his desk. Before he could react, Yaxley retrieved his wand from his holster and shouted, “Petrificus Totalus!”
Kingsley was forced into a full body bind in his chair, not able to move a single muscle.
Yaxley pushed his dick back in his pants, buttoning them as he walked towards him. Yaxley bent over, his face no more than a few inches away from Kingsley's. Then Yaxley reached out the hand that wasn’t holding his wand, and tenderly stroked Kingsley’s face.
“I know you love me. Might be a bit obsessed, even. It’s fucking satisfying to see you become so weak ,” Yaxley sneered.
Yaxley stood tall and walked around the desk to sit in Kingsley’s chair. He placed his hands palms down on the desk and rubbed it back and forth and smiled. He sucked in a deep breath. “I loved you once, you know? And maybe I could have loved you again, but Voldemort changed me. And Azkaban changed me further. It made me hate every one of those motherfuckers who put me in there. The Order. Harry fucking Potter. The Malfoys. Muggles. You. Especially you.
“When you released me from Azkaban, you’ve no idea the joy I felt at seeing your face. But it wasn’t at the thought of rekindling our boyhood love.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No. It wasn’t that. Though you are still sexy as ever, so it’s not like this past year has been a total waste. You’ve served more than one purpose.
“No, the joy I felt on that day, Kingsley, was because I saw an opportunity.
“We could have done this together. I thought I saw Darkness in you. Thought maybe you could be convinced of my plans for revenge and domination – oh yes, I’ve been plotting!
“We’re all full of greed in one way or another. You, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, are one greedy motherfucker. But your darkness isn’t enough for me.”
A tear trickled down Kingsley’s frozen face.
Yaxley pointed his wand at him.
“IMPERIO!” he yelled.
Kingsley entered into a trance, while he awaited his instructions from his new master. And in no less than five seconds he heard his first command. “You will make me head of the DMLE.”
Yaxley laughed, and got up to walk out of his office, but he stopped and turned around. “Oh — and Kingsley? You’ll continue your deal with Skeeter to cover up your dirty business because as of tomorrow, you will begin issuing pardons to imprisoned Death Eaters. You can go back to your seat now.”