The Ministers Sacrifice

AlwaysPadfoot


Part Two of a Four Part Series


Exhausted, I curled forward breathing heavily.

Finally Yaxley had relented with the cruciatus curse, but since then my wand had been taken and reinforcements had arrived. However, even though I remained pretty much completely and utterly screwed, I wasn't going to give up. Not now, not ever. I would fight to the end, whether that be in two minutes or two decades. Through my years as an Auror that had been cemented into my mind, but even previous to that. My own father had taught me to stand up to the scum that had crawled out from the depths of hell.

Somebody hauled me onto my knees, I sucked in a breath and swore roughly under my breath.

"Let go," I said calmly, dangerously to the person whose hands were pinning me down on my knees.

I was still Minister.

Of course, I wasn't naive enough to believe that I would continue being so after tonight. Even if I weren't Minister, I would not act differently. This was a war. I would go down fighting, with bravery and honour.

I lifted my chin, my expression set in stone, calm and ruthless. If I got even a few seconds to get my hands on Yaxley, with or without wand, I'd take that opportunity in a heartbeat. He looked ever so smug, one leg crossed over the other, sat on the overturned desk from the duel previous.

"Are you feeling confident, Scrimgeour?" Yaxley smirked to himself as if knew something I did not. I wouldn't doubt that he did indeed know something I had yet to find out.

My eyes moved coldly to his, "I sincerely hope you're feeling confident, Wilhem."

His eyes narrowed at my use of his forename and I raised one thick eyebrow at him. He decided not to amuse me with a reply, which seemed a shame. In light of the situation it would have been greatly amusing to see what mediocre replies he could summon to the forefront of his mind.

I let my eyes scan the room, without even moving my head, searching for anything of use. I found my wand had been placed next to the unbroken whisky bottle and the glass I had left on the side. My first thought was to summon it silently, of course. However, the cruciatus curse had depleted me and retrieving it unnoticeably would be more desirable than having it shoot straight in front of Yaxley.

The door was still lying discarded on the floor and outside I could see several people who should be under the highest security in Azkaban.

I kept my composure straight, my eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the riffraff that now occupied my office. For a second I did wonder why nothing appeared to be going on, but as I continued to analyse my surroundings I realised that we appeared to be waiting for something.

"Dare I ask what, or whom, we are waiting for," I said nonchalantly, flexing my hands very slightly to test my ability to move after a rather lengthy exposure to the cruciatus curse. It had been a long while since I'd been subjected to a curse quite as hateful as Yaxley's had just been. He half-chuckled, half-smirked when I spoke.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware I'd made a joke."

"Of course, I'd almost forgotten that serious was your middle name," Yaxley commented with mild disinterest, "Well, Rufus, someone really wants to talk to you."

I didn't even twitch at the mention of my name, "How can that certain someone be sure I want to speak to them?"

Yaxley's dark eyes fell to mine, a smirk upon his lips as he contemplated his answer and re-adjusted his ascot very briefly.

"You don't have any choice, Minister."

"No, of course not, you wouldn't have broken into my office otherwise," I retorted with a roll of my eyes, "How stupid of me to not figure out the connotations of that action."

Yaxley made a noise of annoyance at my response and I finally got annoyed enough to shrug off the hands on my shoulders.

"I'm not going anywhere am I?" I said coolly, without even turning to whoever was behind me. Reluctantly they let go and I brushed my shoulders slightly. As a warning, I felt the sharp jab of someone's wand in the back of my head and I frowned slightly, yet remained stationary.

My attention returned to the doorway when it was filled by none other than Rabastan Lestrange, "We're in control, Yaxley."

"Very well," he responded, "You know what to do."