oh god, what a bitch

Neville looked confused. “Hows… life? How’re you? I don’t know.” Boy was this awkward or what? 

“You really don’t have to pretend you care,” Percy replied coldly. Percy was rather used to it, actually—most of his effort was put towards something that did give a damn about him, even superficially. 

“well, if you don’t remember, i’d usually tell you to take a look around - but right now, i must say, that doesn’t seem like the best idea.” luna said. “if you do remember, though, i’ll be here. they all don’t ask a lot of questions; they just grab and go.”

Percy might not have remembered why he had gone to the shop that day; the recent Ministry fiasco has addled with his brain enough that he was already losing track of everything. Now that he was talking to a real shopkeep, it didn’t seem polite to just leave; he wasn’t sure when he had last gone shopping for clothes anyway. “Are any of these clothes special in particular? Aside from the basic warming charms, at least...”

His personal rule for updating his wardrobe was to make sure that whatever spell or charm imbibed with the newest piece of clothing was one he couldn’t do himself. Otherwise, why waste the money?

Harry looks up from the papers - disorganized, Hermione’s most aggravated thing whenever she comes around for a visit - at his cubicle. It’s surprising, to see Percy approach him, of all people (especially when Ron is just a few feet away), until Percy speaks. Of course it’s business. Not like Harry and the middle Weasley child really hang out on their own. “I don’t really. Have you checked in with Robards?” Harry turns in his chair to fully face Percy. “I would hope you have something for us, actually. Have you heard anything at all … even stuff maybe you, uh, shouldn’t have?”

Not that Harry expects Percy to break the rules. But, working so closely with the Minister of Magic himself, there must be something. Harry doesn’t care how he obtains the information - just wants to know. “I’ll keep your name off it.”

“I’ve already asked him,” Percy replied stiffly. He drummed his hand on the cubicle, not quite comprehending what Harry meant by keeping his name off of things. “I’m supposed to ask everyone—the Minister would rather... er... speak with everyone on an individual basis...”

He disagreed with how Kingsley Shacklebolt was operating, but orders were orders. All he could really tell Harry was some rationale—but honestly, not much else. Because there really was nothing else; they were stuck.

“No one has died—yet. We don’t want to raise a false alarm. The employees on that call should be questioned—though it doesn’t seem as if anyone’s really thought to move in that direction.” Because Percy did not come up with ideas. Percy’s job as the Minister’s underling was to keep everything running as smoothly as possible. In a perfect world, the Ministry would have regained the community’s trust by now, but its departments seemed to operate like a separate head on the same hydra.

That didn’t mean Percy didn’t have an opinion, not that he expressed it often. “Some of the Aurors are keeping an eye on some of You-Know-Who’s old gang—but they’ve seemed to have evolved, no? Using muggle fellytones, perhaps even hiding in the muggle world?”

She had been considering it in truth, but Astoria shook her head almost immediately at the question. “Please, take them.” It was probably better if she saved money, and she could wait a little longer before getting new quills. She tried to move to the side, but found herself struggling with the other shoppers in the way. “I might have to grab them for you, sorry. I didn’t expect such a crowd today.” And she definitely wasn’t the type who could easily shove through people.

“No, I can probably reach it from here—“

Rather than taking the woman’s offer, Percy pushed himself closer to the shelf, but no closer to the quill set. He reached forward to grab it, the tips of his fingers brushing against it as he uncomfortably stood in the crowd that refused to part.

To his credit, Percy did try; his arm cramped and it would have been wiser to just summon the quills. Besides, his attempt to be useful probably didn’t mean much when he pulled his arm back and elbowed the blonde square in the face.

Angelina had been in the middle of putting out some gloves for display when she heard someone entering the shop. Noticing the other two employees talking among themselves, she did nothing. Until 30 seconds later she turned around again and noticed them still talking among themselves. Rolling her eyes she gave a smile and walked up to the counter….”Hi sorry about that. How can I…..Percy?” Angelina asked in what she hoped wasn’t surprise, but he was the last Weasley she expected in here. “Percy. Hey! How can i help you?” 

Even if he cleared his throat, he still didn’t quite get any of the other employees’ attention—especially with his broomstick taking up counter space. Was it because Percy didn’t look the part of the Quidditch player? Non-flyers still frequented the store—though he did feel out of place all of a sudden, and particularly thrown by the fact that one of the employees had said his name out loud.

Ron’s relief was short-lived, morphing into something between irritation and exasperation. “’Course not,” he replied through the remaining bits of biscuit, pushing away from the counter to drop into one of the chairs near the table. He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know how his brother would react - rules and etiquette were Percy’s forte, after all - but he was holding out for the day he wouldn’t be a total buzzkill and it seemed he would be waiting longer still.

Ron’s gaze fell upon the parchment in Percy’s grasp; he gave it a pointed nod. “And you couldn’t have waited to work on that? What is it, anyway?” 

He normally wouldn’t have asked, but given the events of the last several days he couldn’t hide his curiosity. 

The only reason Percy didn’t reply with an eyeroll was because Ron was suddenly interested in his work—though he didn’t realize that his position close to Kingsley was truly why Ron had been asking.

“Oh! Yes, just a report on muggle fellytones—there are so many different kinds nowadays! Some flip, I believe?” Percy scratched his head, pulling one of the pieces of parchment from the coffee table. He could have asked his father on what the flip is all about but he thought it wiser to not mention work at all.  “Ministry work can’t wait—unless you’d rather have me at the office instead?”

A bit of shock fluttered across Percy’s face, almost surprised at how brazen the question was, how accusatory, how bitter it sounded. Percy opened his mouth again, about to say something about how he should be in his cubicle instead, but thought better of it and returned to reading his paperwork.

“Oh, yes.” Padma had been reading while walking, but she closed the book and quickened her stride to follow the person through the door. It took a few seconds for the Weasley red hair and the glasses to register - she didn’t run into Percy that often. “Thanks, Weasley.”

Percy should be used to people recognizing him by now—he followed Kingsley wherever he went, and because he was no war hero, the way people called after Weasley was always with a different intonation with Percy.

She looked familiar, and he had seen her before, under much less pleasant circumstances. “Sorry, and you are…?”

       Ginny flops on the couch across from him, and though she would usually place her feet on the coffee table, she glances at his papers and instead crosses them child-style where she sits in respect for his things. She sends him a glance, appreciating the fact that Percy was still Percy - even working from home.  

            “ Next week - we play Liverpool. You know we don’t have to talk about quidditch though, right? ” He doesn’t like it, though he’s trying for her. “ How are mum and dad lately? ” Their parents always had a brave face on whenever she was around for family suppers and what-not, but with Fred gone and George worrying them all the last year Molly was rightfully rattled. 

“No—no! We can talk about Quidditch all you want!” Percy floundered a bit. “You don’t have to—change the subject just because—not that I don’t like—not that I don’t like Quidditch, because—”

For how erudite he was, he certainly was not having a great time getting across to his sister. What else was there to talk about really? Even as Percy started his very first Ministry position, no one really seemed that interested in his work. And that’s all he really had to show for his life.

Percy inhaled. He couldn’t really answer her question either. It wasn’t that he didn’t see his parents, but there was never a sense of normal anymore around them. He didn’t see himself as the caretaker, nor did he see himself as the best child, but at least a dependable one.

It had been a long day of assistant teaching. One of the students has managed to sneak in a Fred Weasley’s Basic Blaze Box to the greenhouse and, well, that was just as bad as it sounded. He was exhausted, which was why he didn’t think twice about bending over and picking up coins without paying attention. “Here,” he said, dropping the coins into Percy’s hand. “How’s it?” 

The coins clinked together in Percy’s hand as he stood up, dusting himself of a bit before pocketing the coins, completely forgetting that he was there to get a drink in the first place. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses to get a better look at whoever had helped him. “How’s what?”

@percyignatius–weasley​

Truth be told, the Burrow was a much quieter place than it used to be. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment, and when Ron lived there for the first year or so after the war’s end he struggled. Hard. But it was very rare to step into the house and not encounter anyone, and even more rare to step into the kitchen and not encounter Molly. To be fair, he hadn’t announced himself, but there were signs of life - it smelled like a bakery and there were biscuits cooling on the counter - which lightened Ron’s footsteps as he moved into the room. He leaned over the tray of biscuits and inhaled, looking over both shoulders and straining every one of his senses for a sign of his mother’s approach.

The coast was clear. 

He grabbed a biscuit and took a bite - they were still warm - but at exactly that moment he heard footsteps. Panic set in, and he shoved the whole biscuit into his mouth, spinning around and leaning nonchalantly against the counter (or rather, as nonchalantly as he could with his cheeks full of biscuit). When Percy entered the kitchen instead of Molly, though, Ron’s relief was palpable. 

“Oh, hey Perce.”  

There was a point in time after Fred’s death where Percy attended every meal that Molly had prepared. Living at the Burrow made that easy, but working for the Ministry made that difficult. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if his presence was even welcomed most of the time—especially at breakfast when people were much more likely to drop by. Usually Percy liked working in the den just as people arrived, trying to navigate what kind of conversation he could possibly have—but knowing his family, he didn’t have to do much work in that category.

But Ron hadn’t even swallowed the biscuit when Percy had come to the kitchen. Hell, Percy was busy proofreading his latest report to have even noticed that another person was in the house had the greeting not been said.

“oh, didn’t you hear? we’re having this big blowout sale. everything’s half off.” luna said, looking around the store she worked at. gladrag’s was definitely way busier than any other given wednesday, but they had to get rid of their winterwear, so - here they were. “can i help you with something?”

Percy rolled his eyes, exasperated. He dodged another customer with an armful of winter robes. “I don’t need any help, I just--”

        Ginny enters the family room with a trashy romance novel in one hand, and a bowl of her mum’s home cooked chili in the other, surprised to find the room already occupied. 

               “ Oh, hey Perc! No, I actually came just for the quiet… Imagine saying that ten years ago.” She sends him a smirk, thinking of the days the Burrow had been overrun by them all before explaining, “ One of the girl’s boyfriend’s just broke up with her at the house and she hasn’t stopped wailing for hours. Feel bad for her, but he was bit of a wanker. What you doing here? ”

“Merlin, I’m always here…” Percy muttered under his breath. “Or did you mean work? I’m just not at the office today--”

He waved a hand to all of the parchment scattered on their coffee table, with a quill still between his fingers.

The occasion was rare that Percy was called Perce and the lack of formality between the two of them was a welcome respite. He cleared his throat, unsure of what to talk about. Conversation just wasn’t his forte, but there was an attempt. For his sister, anyway. “So—when’s the next match?”