"The Perfect Position," for purelush
Dec. 28th, 2011 06:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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rarepair_shortsAuthor: ???
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
purelush
Title: The Perfect Position
Pairing: Millicent Bulstrode/Percy Weasley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1547
Summary: Really, it's best for everyone that Percy give Millicent the job.
Author's Notes:purelush, I hope this is witty enough for your tastes! Thanks to M for looking this over! <3
Millicent smoothed her hands down the muggle suit she had bought for the occasion. Granted, she had never been a Death Eater, but she'd been in Slytherin, so any show of support for Muggle industry surely couldn't go amiss.
Not that it would be a significant factor once she pulled the other trick out of her purse. Mostly, it was simply a nice suit, one that Millicent had fancied in the store. It was expensive-looking, tailored to cling to her waist, and loose enough around her legs so as not to be uncomfortable when she sat down.
Her reflection in the mirror winked, a perfect show of self-assurance.
Pansy thought she was mad. Percy Weasley, give Millicent Bulstrode a job? In her dreams. Privately, she thought Pansy needed to regain her confidence. Poor thing had no ambition anymore. Ever since Blaise had moved to Germany, all Pansy had done was mope around the house; or, rather, around Millicent's flat, to be exact.
The place wasn't exactly huge, either. Certainly the ornate plaster fireplaces and marble countertops had an element of class to them, but she couldn't possibly live in such close quarters with her friend for much longer or one of them was going to murder the other.
Pansy would call Millicent unfeeling.
Millicent would call Pansy shallow.
An outsider might not have observed a difference, but she really didn't want to spend an evening cleaning Pansy's blood off her carpet.
Heaven forbid things get so bad that Pansy call her fat.
So, a job. Percy Weasley's secretary, to be precise. Millicent had always fancied working for the Ministry, after all. The bustling Atrium, the glamour of the Unspeakables, the Wizengamot, the Aurors; it was terribly appealing.
Applying to be Percy Weasley's secretary was definitely a step in the right direction, however small. At the very least, it was a step towards a bigger flat. She wasn't about to toss Pansy out onto the street, after all, especially not since the Ministry had ripped her of her money and estate, as 'reparations'.
“Pansy, get out of bed! There's coffee on the stove!” She called out before leaving, not bothering with a proper goodbye. Honestly, that girl was going to mope herself into oblivion. Heels clacking against the ancient floorboards, Millicent turned the corner into the convenient little alcove in the hall and Apparated away, leaving Pansy to her own devices for the day.
The street would be drastic, but she wasn't opposed to trying to make Pansy a little bit more self-sufficient than she had been the last two months.
*
Millicent arrived early, painfully so, considering the chairs provided outside Weasley's office. They were old wooden things with no cushioning and tiny, useless armrests. Surely the Ministry had a budget for this kind of thing. Millicent shifted uncomfortably, casting a few surreptitious charms to make her chair slightly easier to sit in.
Another woman was waiting in the seat directly opposite her. She didn't seem particularly concerned that Millicent might notice she was staring. She leaned back and frowned. The woman looked familiar. Millicent had learned fairly soon after the war that 'familiar faces' were generally not her friends.
“It's Bulstrode, isn't it?” the woman asked, leaning forward and putting the same distance back between them. She wore a long purple robe, the collar poking out awkwardly over her shoulders. She didn't have a kind look on her face.
“I beg your pardon.” Millicent could tolerate Pansy's indiscretions when it came to politeness, but definitely not those of strange, smug women, undoubtedly applying for the very job she herself was after.
“You were in Slytherin, I remember you from Hogwarts.” Her lips, charmingly red and perfect, remained pursed, her eyes cold.
“Yes. And?” Millicent was never one to give an inch.
“Well, you don't have to be rude,” she huffed, crossing her arms. She cast one final look at Millicent, her face twisted, before giving up and picking up one of the magazines on the small table next to her.
Millicent smoothed down her suit jacket, admiring the faint cream pinstripes. Muggle fashion truly wasn't too horrible.
*
After a sharp voice called, “Next!” Millicent rose from her chair and walked to the door, smiling sharply at the woman as she passed. Poor woman, really, applying for a job she surely wasn't going to get. Millicent pushed the door open and stepped inside, pleased to see that Weasley's office was very tidy.
She appreciated the kind of sensibility the neatness implied.
“Bulstrode?” Weasley, much to her disappointment, looked somewhat uncertain about her presence in his office. “Can I help you?”
Looking around, she noted the various family photographs that littered the walls, the whole Weasley clan glittering, orange and waving at her from all angles. She sneered.
“Weasley.” She sat down, pleased to note that Weasley, at least, had invested in some comfortable chairs. “I'm here for the job.” Straight to business. Weasley gulped. Millicent watched the bulge in his throat bob up and down.
“Right. Of course.” His cheeks were a horrible shade of pink, clashing with his mop of curly orange hair. “Your qualifications?”
Millicent had to admire how he could sound so professional while looking so flustered. She handed him the file of references she'd brought with her, not bothering to answer properly. She was well qualified. He would see that as soon as he opened the file.
He took it with interest. He was still very pink in the face, but his eyes showed a sort of burning curiosity that she thought rather suited him.
Millicent smiled as he flipped through reference after reference, the crease in his brow becoming more pronounced with each flick of his hand.
“These are-” He looked up, face betraying his alarm. “Bulstrode.” He cleared his throat. “These are all Muggle jobs.”
Millicent simply nodded, hands travelling down the front of her suit yet again. She was both pleased and surprised to note that his eyes followed, the blush on his cheeks growing slightly darker once more. She smiled at him, eyes glinting, leaning forward slightly.
“As you see, I have an impeccable work ethic. I am punctual, efficient, and, contrary to popular belief, I don't carry that pesky prejudice you people all seem to think is endemic to all Slytherin alumni.” Millicent stared at Weasley, daring him to suggest otherwise.
He closed the file slowly, eyes roaming over her face.
“Bulstrode. You are obviously very clever, good at business, good at convincing people to give you jobs, if your resume is anything to go by-” He took a deep breath, the crease between his eyebrows returning. “Why try and enter the Ministry at such a low-level position?”
Millicent laughed. Weasley flinched at the sound.
“And where do you suppose I should apply?” she asked, eyes full of mirth, white-knuckled hands clutching the desk. “The Aurors? The only Slytherin on the Auror team is Draco Malfoy, and that's because he and Potter-”
Weasley coughed, his cheeks, once again, slightly pink. She marvelled at how quickly the man's face could change colour.
“Because he's skinny, has an official pardon and he saved Potter's life.”
“You're not-” Weasley made vague gestures towards her, eyes averted.
“Oh, come off it,” she scoffed. “Look. The rest of us, we got our properties taken away, our families Kissed, our arms grabbed and our sleeves pushed back in public to prove we weren't on His side-” Millicent took a deep breath. “This is how we expect to get what we want now. Start small.”
Weasley's cheeks had lost their pink tinge. “Okay,” he said, eyes searching her face again.
“Okay?”
“You can have the job.” He leaned back in his seat, smiling slightly, an appreciative glint in his eye. “Of course, you won't be able to keep it for very long, undoubtedly you'll move up very quickly.”
Millicent, glad though she was, was sure there had to be a catch. “There were other people waiting in the lobby, I-”
“Bulstrode. The job is yours. Don't drop the attitude now, not when it just landed you the job you wanted. Now-” Weasley smirked. “Surely lunch would be appropriate to, well, discuss your new position? We can draw you up a contract that allows you to leave it, should a better one come up.”
Millicent was reasonably sure contracts were much better drawn up in the office.
However, eyes roving the faint scatter of freckles over his face, his sharp suit, his neat little office and finally those calculated eyes, waiting for a response, she supposed that lunch might be exactly where her short contract ought to be drawn up.
A short contract, coincidentally, would give her likely just enough time to encourage Pansy back to her old, haughty, independent self.
“It better be a short contract, Weasley. Wouldn't want to break any Ministry rules, after all,” she offered with a smirk, standing up and collecting her references off his desk.
“If there is one thing I'm not, Bulstrode, it's a rule-breaker.”
Millicent was glad. She appreciated sensibility, after all.
Recipient:
purelushTitle: The Perfect Position
Pairing: Millicent Bulstrode/Percy Weasley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1547
Summary: Really, it's best for everyone that Percy give Millicent the job.
Author's Notes:
purelush, I hope this is witty enough for your tastes! Thanks to M for looking this over! <3Millicent smoothed her hands down the muggle suit she had bought for the occasion. Granted, she had never been a Death Eater, but she'd been in Slytherin, so any show of support for Muggle industry surely couldn't go amiss.
Not that it would be a significant factor once she pulled the other trick out of her purse. Mostly, it was simply a nice suit, one that Millicent had fancied in the store. It was expensive-looking, tailored to cling to her waist, and loose enough around her legs so as not to be uncomfortable when she sat down.
Her reflection in the mirror winked, a perfect show of self-assurance.
Pansy thought she was mad. Percy Weasley, give Millicent Bulstrode a job? In her dreams. Privately, she thought Pansy needed to regain her confidence. Poor thing had no ambition anymore. Ever since Blaise had moved to Germany, all Pansy had done was mope around the house; or, rather, around Millicent's flat, to be exact.
The place wasn't exactly huge, either. Certainly the ornate plaster fireplaces and marble countertops had an element of class to them, but she couldn't possibly live in such close quarters with her friend for much longer or one of them was going to murder the other.
Pansy would call Millicent unfeeling.
Millicent would call Pansy shallow.
An outsider might not have observed a difference, but she really didn't want to spend an evening cleaning Pansy's blood off her carpet.
Heaven forbid things get so bad that Pansy call her fat.
So, a job. Percy Weasley's secretary, to be precise. Millicent had always fancied working for the Ministry, after all. The bustling Atrium, the glamour of the Unspeakables, the Wizengamot, the Aurors; it was terribly appealing.
Applying to be Percy Weasley's secretary was definitely a step in the right direction, however small. At the very least, it was a step towards a bigger flat. She wasn't about to toss Pansy out onto the street, after all, especially not since the Ministry had ripped her of her money and estate, as 'reparations'.
“Pansy, get out of bed! There's coffee on the stove!” She called out before leaving, not bothering with a proper goodbye. Honestly, that girl was going to mope herself into oblivion. Heels clacking against the ancient floorboards, Millicent turned the corner into the convenient little alcove in the hall and Apparated away, leaving Pansy to her own devices for the day.
The street would be drastic, but she wasn't opposed to trying to make Pansy a little bit more self-sufficient than she had been the last two months.
*
Millicent arrived early, painfully so, considering the chairs provided outside Weasley's office. They were old wooden things with no cushioning and tiny, useless armrests. Surely the Ministry had a budget for this kind of thing. Millicent shifted uncomfortably, casting a few surreptitious charms to make her chair slightly easier to sit in.
Another woman was waiting in the seat directly opposite her. She didn't seem particularly concerned that Millicent might notice she was staring. She leaned back and frowned. The woman looked familiar. Millicent had learned fairly soon after the war that 'familiar faces' were generally not her friends.
“It's Bulstrode, isn't it?” the woman asked, leaning forward and putting the same distance back between them. She wore a long purple robe, the collar poking out awkwardly over her shoulders. She didn't have a kind look on her face.
“I beg your pardon.” Millicent could tolerate Pansy's indiscretions when it came to politeness, but definitely not those of strange, smug women, undoubtedly applying for the very job she herself was after.
“You were in Slytherin, I remember you from Hogwarts.” Her lips, charmingly red and perfect, remained pursed, her eyes cold.
“Yes. And?” Millicent was never one to give an inch.
“Well, you don't have to be rude,” she huffed, crossing her arms. She cast one final look at Millicent, her face twisted, before giving up and picking up one of the magazines on the small table next to her.
Millicent smoothed down her suit jacket, admiring the faint cream pinstripes. Muggle fashion truly wasn't too horrible.
*
After a sharp voice called, “Next!” Millicent rose from her chair and walked to the door, smiling sharply at the woman as she passed. Poor woman, really, applying for a job she surely wasn't going to get. Millicent pushed the door open and stepped inside, pleased to see that Weasley's office was very tidy.
She appreciated the kind of sensibility the neatness implied.
“Bulstrode?” Weasley, much to her disappointment, looked somewhat uncertain about her presence in his office. “Can I help you?”
Looking around, she noted the various family photographs that littered the walls, the whole Weasley clan glittering, orange and waving at her from all angles. She sneered.
“Weasley.” She sat down, pleased to note that Weasley, at least, had invested in some comfortable chairs. “I'm here for the job.” Straight to business. Weasley gulped. Millicent watched the bulge in his throat bob up and down.
“Right. Of course.” His cheeks were a horrible shade of pink, clashing with his mop of curly orange hair. “Your qualifications?”
Millicent had to admire how he could sound so professional while looking so flustered. She handed him the file of references she'd brought with her, not bothering to answer properly. She was well qualified. He would see that as soon as he opened the file.
He took it with interest. He was still very pink in the face, but his eyes showed a sort of burning curiosity that she thought rather suited him.
Millicent smiled as he flipped through reference after reference, the crease in his brow becoming more pronounced with each flick of his hand.
“These are-” He looked up, face betraying his alarm. “Bulstrode.” He cleared his throat. “These are all Muggle jobs.”
Millicent simply nodded, hands travelling down the front of her suit yet again. She was both pleased and surprised to note that his eyes followed, the blush on his cheeks growing slightly darker once more. She smiled at him, eyes glinting, leaning forward slightly.
“As you see, I have an impeccable work ethic. I am punctual, efficient, and, contrary to popular belief, I don't carry that pesky prejudice you people all seem to think is endemic to all Slytherin alumni.” Millicent stared at Weasley, daring him to suggest otherwise.
He closed the file slowly, eyes roaming over her face.
“Bulstrode. You are obviously very clever, good at business, good at convincing people to give you jobs, if your resume is anything to go by-” He took a deep breath, the crease between his eyebrows returning. “Why try and enter the Ministry at such a low-level position?”
Millicent laughed. Weasley flinched at the sound.
“And where do you suppose I should apply?” she asked, eyes full of mirth, white-knuckled hands clutching the desk. “The Aurors? The only Slytherin on the Auror team is Draco Malfoy, and that's because he and Potter-”
Weasley coughed, his cheeks, once again, slightly pink. She marvelled at how quickly the man's face could change colour.
“Because he's skinny, has an official pardon and he saved Potter's life.”
“You're not-” Weasley made vague gestures towards her, eyes averted.
“Oh, come off it,” she scoffed. “Look. The rest of us, we got our properties taken away, our families Kissed, our arms grabbed and our sleeves pushed back in public to prove we weren't on His side-” Millicent took a deep breath. “This is how we expect to get what we want now. Start small.”
Weasley's cheeks had lost their pink tinge. “Okay,” he said, eyes searching her face again.
“Okay?”
“You can have the job.” He leaned back in his seat, smiling slightly, an appreciative glint in his eye. “Of course, you won't be able to keep it for very long, undoubtedly you'll move up very quickly.”
Millicent, glad though she was, was sure there had to be a catch. “There were other people waiting in the lobby, I-”
“Bulstrode. The job is yours. Don't drop the attitude now, not when it just landed you the job you wanted. Now-” Weasley smirked. “Surely lunch would be appropriate to, well, discuss your new position? We can draw you up a contract that allows you to leave it, should a better one come up.”
Millicent was reasonably sure contracts were much better drawn up in the office.
However, eyes roving the faint scatter of freckles over his face, his sharp suit, his neat little office and finally those calculated eyes, waiting for a response, she supposed that lunch might be exactly where her short contract ought to be drawn up.
A short contract, coincidentally, would give her likely just enough time to encourage Pansy back to her old, haughty, independent self.
“It better be a short contract, Weasley. Wouldn't want to break any Ministry rules, after all,” she offered with a smirk, standing up and collecting her references off his desk.
“If there is one thing I'm not, Bulstrode, it's a rule-breaker.”
Millicent was glad. She appreciated sensibility, after all.
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Date: 2011-12-29 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-08 07:11 am (UTC)