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rarepair_shorts2007-11-11 04:09 pm
amor-remanet.livejournal.com) wrote in rarepair_shorts2007-11-11 04:09 pm
Entry tags:
FICLET: Mindless Repetition (Percy/Rufus)
Title: Mindless Repetition
Character Pairing: Percy Weasley/Rufus Scrimgeour
Prompt: "facing tomorrow alone"
Rating: G
Word Count: 811
Summary: "He never even considered the idea that work could fail to distract him..."
Author's Notes: Still very much G-rated, unless Percy's list of complaints about his family is particularly offensive.
Link to Prompt Table: Aqui!
Someone’s always around at the Ministry, but Percy cannot honestly recall ever feeling as lonely as he does now. It’s been three weeks since he left home and temporarily occupied Oliver’s sofa, two weeks since he insisted on finding and got his own flat, and one week, two days, since his and Penny’s falling out, which prompted Oliver to give him a thirty-minute ranting screed about what a prat he was being. And, in turn, Oliver’s rant had prompted Percy to inform his best (meaning only) mate that he could’ve gotten the same tirade if he’d stayed at home. So, Oliver had turned that around to say that, with things as bad as his parents seem to think they are, Percy bloody well should’ve stayed home – and he chose to remind Oliver that this was all Arthur’s fault to begin with.
Two broken noses, a snapped pair of glasses, fifteen minutes, and several hasty apologies and admissions of mutual stupidity later, they found themselves eating Muggle Chinese food while Percy rather effectively defended his case that this was All Arthur’s Fault. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d been a compulsively horrible father, but now he was out to ruin Percy’s life, and just because Percy had actual ambitions. He’d seen fit to distantly “help” get his third-eldest son through the whole mess of inquiries over the business concerning Mister Crouch and his good-for-nothing son, but, as soon as Percy’s dreams had been advanced, he had to start grousing, and complaining, and making all manner of insinuations about how Percy didn’t really deserve his new position, and how the Ministry just wanted a spy within the Weasleys. As though he really would’ve betrayed them for advancement.
To be fair, though, leaving wasn’t, as far as Percy was concerned, betrayal. It was just refusal to be surrounded by the same negativity that had plagued him since his youth.
Oliver had dragged him away from a Saturday of “unnecessary work” in favor of Quidditch, hoping that, maybe, his bespectacled best mate would stop thinking about the whole mess with Arthur and just enjoy himself. It didn’t work out that way, and even work isn’t distracting Percy effectively anymore.
It’s just that it’s strange, thinking of the man as Arthur instead of Dad, but when has that unambitious, Muggle-loving fool ever been a Dad? He’d been a wonderful dad to Charlie and Bill, and he bragged about his brilliant, daredevil sons at every turn. He praised them for their help at the Quidditch World Cup last year, but conveniently ignored that Percy had fought the Death Eaters as well. Furthermore, Arthur doted on Ginny, but never praised Percy for looking out for her; he’d been the only one who noticed that something was wrong during her first year, and Arthur had had the unmitigated gall to accuse him of paranoia in their exchange of letters. Then, Arthur practically coddled Ron, and outright encouraged the Twins – he even laughed! He laughed whenever the Twins picked on Percy.
And what had Percy earned from him? He sacrificed a functioning social life and most of the things he could’ve wanted in favor of schoolwork, and success, and being the best – all to make the most he could out of himself and earn Arthur’s approval, but it was always Mum who did the praising. Arthur almost never had kind words for him, and Percy’s successes went utterly unnoticed.
He never even considered the idea that work could fail to distract him, but all it’s been since he left home has been a whirlwind of indiscernible paperwork, punctuated by that whole business with Harry Potter’s trial.
Today’s no different. Memo from Madame Umbridge, report to fill out regarding a report from Shacklebolt (about Sirius Black, so Percy knows that it’s patently false, but he doesn’t have it in him to out the Order’s secrets to Minister Fudge; it’d just prove that he’s capable of what Arthur accused him of in the first place) – the same old rubbish, all day, every day, until he either gets a promotion or dies of restless boredom. That is, until…
“Well, aren’t you just having the time of your life?”
Percy smiles immediately at the easily recognized voice, and he smiles further when, looking up, he gets confirmation that he’s being addressed by one, Rufus Scrimgeour.
It’s still odd to see it, but Percy loves that Scrimgeour smiles back.
“C’mon, son. Time for your lunch break.”
Percy doesn’t fully put up a struggle, but feels it prudent to at least mention… “But, the report, sir. It will hardly just write itself.”
Smirking, Scrimgeour slides one of Percy’s books on top of the report. At least the ink had dried already. It would’ve been a catastrophe if it hadn’t.
“Write it later,” he instructs. “Lunchtime waits for no man.”
Percy’s getting less surprised with every acceptance.
Character Pairing: Percy Weasley/Rufus Scrimgeour
Prompt: "facing tomorrow alone"
Rating: G
Word Count: 811
Summary: "He never even considered the idea that work could fail to distract him..."
Author's Notes: Still very much G-rated, unless Percy's list of complaints about his family is particularly offensive.
Link to Prompt Table: Aqui!
Someone’s always around at the Ministry, but Percy cannot honestly recall ever feeling as lonely as he does now. It’s been three weeks since he left home and temporarily occupied Oliver’s sofa, two weeks since he insisted on finding and got his own flat, and one week, two days, since his and Penny’s falling out, which prompted Oliver to give him a thirty-minute ranting screed about what a prat he was being. And, in turn, Oliver’s rant had prompted Percy to inform his best (meaning only) mate that he could’ve gotten the same tirade if he’d stayed at home. So, Oliver had turned that around to say that, with things as bad as his parents seem to think they are, Percy bloody well should’ve stayed home – and he chose to remind Oliver that this was all Arthur’s fault to begin with.
Two broken noses, a snapped pair of glasses, fifteen minutes, and several hasty apologies and admissions of mutual stupidity later, they found themselves eating Muggle Chinese food while Percy rather effectively defended his case that this was All Arthur’s Fault. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d been a compulsively horrible father, but now he was out to ruin Percy’s life, and just because Percy had actual ambitions. He’d seen fit to distantly “help” get his third-eldest son through the whole mess of inquiries over the business concerning Mister Crouch and his good-for-nothing son, but, as soon as Percy’s dreams had been advanced, he had to start grousing, and complaining, and making all manner of insinuations about how Percy didn’t really deserve his new position, and how the Ministry just wanted a spy within the Weasleys. As though he really would’ve betrayed them for advancement.
To be fair, though, leaving wasn’t, as far as Percy was concerned, betrayal. It was just refusal to be surrounded by the same negativity that had plagued him since his youth.
Oliver had dragged him away from a Saturday of “unnecessary work” in favor of Quidditch, hoping that, maybe, his bespectacled best mate would stop thinking about the whole mess with Arthur and just enjoy himself. It didn’t work out that way, and even work isn’t distracting Percy effectively anymore.
It’s just that it’s strange, thinking of the man as Arthur instead of Dad, but when has that unambitious, Muggle-loving fool ever been a Dad? He’d been a wonderful dad to Charlie and Bill, and he bragged about his brilliant, daredevil sons at every turn. He praised them for their help at the Quidditch World Cup last year, but conveniently ignored that Percy had fought the Death Eaters as well. Furthermore, Arthur doted on Ginny, but never praised Percy for looking out for her; he’d been the only one who noticed that something was wrong during her first year, and Arthur had had the unmitigated gall to accuse him of paranoia in their exchange of letters. Then, Arthur practically coddled Ron, and outright encouraged the Twins – he even laughed! He laughed whenever the Twins picked on Percy.
And what had Percy earned from him? He sacrificed a functioning social life and most of the things he could’ve wanted in favor of schoolwork, and success, and being the best – all to make the most he could out of himself and earn Arthur’s approval, but it was always Mum who did the praising. Arthur almost never had kind words for him, and Percy’s successes went utterly unnoticed.
He never even considered the idea that work could fail to distract him, but all it’s been since he left home has been a whirlwind of indiscernible paperwork, punctuated by that whole business with Harry Potter’s trial.
Today’s no different. Memo from Madame Umbridge, report to fill out regarding a report from Shacklebolt (about Sirius Black, so Percy knows that it’s patently false, but he doesn’t have it in him to out the Order’s secrets to Minister Fudge; it’d just prove that he’s capable of what Arthur accused him of in the first place) – the same old rubbish, all day, every day, until he either gets a promotion or dies of restless boredom. That is, until…
“Well, aren’t you just having the time of your life?”
Percy smiles immediately at the easily recognized voice, and he smiles further when, looking up, he gets confirmation that he’s being addressed by one, Rufus Scrimgeour.
It’s still odd to see it, but Percy loves that Scrimgeour smiles back.
“C’mon, son. Time for your lunch break.”
Percy doesn’t fully put up a struggle, but feels it prudent to at least mention… “But, the report, sir. It will hardly just write itself.”
Smirking, Scrimgeour slides one of Percy’s books on top of the report. At least the ink had dried already. It would’ve been a catastrophe if it hadn’t.
“Write it later,” he instructs. “Lunchtime waits for no man.”
Percy’s getting less surprised with every acceptance.