Challenge #2: Secondary Character
Title: Quiet Ink
Rating/Warnings: G, slight AU
Characters/Pairing: Percy Weasley, Hermione Granger. References to Hermione/Ron.
Summary: Percy does paperwork and thinks.
Word Count: 1014
Registered purchases?: Both quill and parchment.
Percy Weasley was not very happy at the current time. There were much too many things to get done today, things that had been put off for far too long by, well, every other person in the department. Sometimes, Percy felt, he was the only person in the entire office to ever do a damn thing. It wasn't just today, it wasn't just this week, not even just this month. It was a continuing cycle of people just not doing what they were supposed to, and the young man with red hair and freckles and funny crooked glasses being left to do their work for them - else they all get fired, which may or may not be a bad thing.
At this moment we was hunched over papers and scrolls, books both muggle and wizard, and ink was covering his fingers -- and a bit had somehow found its way to his nose as well. While the son of Arthur and Molly Weasley may have been neater than any of his siblings, he was definitely passionate and involved wholeheartedly when it came to his work -- or in this case, the work of the pretty young brunette who sat in the desk across of him, who he most definitely had not been staring at half the day over heavy lids. No, definitely not.
His quill fell to the table, overused like all the others hidden in the top drawer of his desk, and he ran his fingers through his hair. It had started to thin and recede lately, something that both frightened and amused him. He was only 28 after all, much too soon to be balding. He may have his father's gene, but he did not have near the amount of stress his father had. Not nearly the amount of stress that could come from having so many children. Percy had no children. He didn't really care for children.
Right now, he didn't really care for anything other than getting done with all this paperwork and getting out of this place and getting home. It would be another day for takeout it seems; much too late to cook anything fresh, and his fridge was much too empty to cook anything leftover. And definitely too late to stop at home and make sighing noises until his mother fed him; besides the fact that he was much too old and mature to do that anyway (at least to do that more than once, maybe twice, a month).
"Are you still here?" it was an surprised tone of voice, a woman's, coming from somewhere near the hall. However the lights were off, and Percy's eyes crossed, and he didn't really care to be interrupted. So he picked back up his quill, dipped it quickly for some dark wet ink, and continued to write. He only looked up for a moment when he heard the chair across from him -- the pretty brunette's chair -- slide on the hardwood floor.
"Hermione," he greeted her. No need for more words, no need for more formalities. She was his sister-in-law after all, practically his own sister really. (And she had already chastised him before for being too formal with her; they shared a bathroom for many summers, dammit, she deserved more than a 'Good evening, Mrs. Weasley'.)
"You shouldn't work so hard. You're only one person, Percy." The young woman had taken a liking to mothering him, he found. Mothering them all really, probably due to her expanding belly and odd midnight cravings Ron had whined about the past few months (if Percy didn't know any better he would have thought Ron was the pregnant one, what with all his complaining and moodiness). She had often brought him lunch, dinner, sometimes even breakfast when she had found him hunched over his desk having never even left for the night.
"If I don't do it, it won't get done." he said flatly. She hummed at this; she had the same issue in her department as well, according to stories she had shared with him last year. It had only gotten better for her when she announced her pregnancy to everyone who would care to listen -- though Percy doubted the same would work for him, unfortunately.
"Well, what are we working on tonight, then?" she sighed, putting on her reading glasses. He didn't remember when she had gotten them, just that they made her eyes look large and glossy, and her face too petite for her neck. It was both an endearing and hilarious sight.
Handing her a book and some forms to her, he responded; "History, actually. We've been concentrating on trying to separate fact from fiction, if you will, from Prophet articles during the first and second war." He grinned at her 'hrmph!' and went back to his own work.
"You mean there were articles during the wars that actually contained real, factual information?" he could tell she was amused -- how could she not, really, with her history regarding Prophet writers. He shrugged, as he didn't really have an answer; so far he had only found one mention of fact, possibly a second (though he had no extra paperwork to cross-reference). Hermione sighed again, and they got to work.
It was a nightly thing for them recently, to work across from one another. Silence was something they both seemed to cherish, something they had in common since the time they were in school those few years together. And it was comforting, Percy thought often, to have someone he could just sit quietly with and write, occasionally read. It wasn't romantic in any way -- oh no, no chance of that at all, even if he had at one time maybe thought of the possibility of them together. It was friendship, more than he had ever experienced.
And Percy liked it very much.
Elizabeth|Hufflepuff
Rating/Warnings: G, slight AU
Characters/Pairing: Percy Weasley, Hermione Granger. References to Hermione/Ron.
Summary: Percy does paperwork and thinks.
Word Count: 1014
Registered purchases?: Both quill and parchment.
Percy Weasley was not very happy at the current time. There were much too many things to get done today, things that had been put off for far too long by, well, every other person in the department. Sometimes, Percy felt, he was the only person in the entire office to ever do a damn thing. It wasn't just today, it wasn't just this week, not even just this month. It was a continuing cycle of people just not doing what they were supposed to, and the young man with red hair and freckles and funny crooked glasses being left to do their work for them - else they all get fired, which may or may not be a bad thing.
At this moment we was hunched over papers and scrolls, books both muggle and wizard, and ink was covering his fingers -- and a bit had somehow found its way to his nose as well. While the son of Arthur and Molly Weasley may have been neater than any of his siblings, he was definitely passionate and involved wholeheartedly when it came to his work -- or in this case, the work of the pretty young brunette who sat in the desk across of him, who he most definitely had not been staring at half the day over heavy lids. No, definitely not.
His quill fell to the table, overused like all the others hidden in the top drawer of his desk, and he ran his fingers through his hair. It had started to thin and recede lately, something that both frightened and amused him. He was only 28 after all, much too soon to be balding. He may have his father's gene, but he did not have near the amount of stress his father had. Not nearly the amount of stress that could come from having so many children. Percy had no children. He didn't really care for children.
Right now, he didn't really care for anything other than getting done with all this paperwork and getting out of this place and getting home. It would be another day for takeout it seems; much too late to cook anything fresh, and his fridge was much too empty to cook anything leftover. And definitely too late to stop at home and make sighing noises until his mother fed him; besides the fact that he was much too old and mature to do that anyway (at least to do that more than once, maybe twice, a month).
"Are you still here?" it was an surprised tone of voice, a woman's, coming from somewhere near the hall. However the lights were off, and Percy's eyes crossed, and he didn't really care to be interrupted. So he picked back up his quill, dipped it quickly for some dark wet ink, and continued to write. He only looked up for a moment when he heard the chair across from him -- the pretty brunette's chair -- slide on the hardwood floor.
"Hermione," he greeted her. No need for more words, no need for more formalities. She was his sister-in-law after all, practically his own sister really. (And she had already chastised him before for being too formal with her; they shared a bathroom for many summers, dammit, she deserved more than a 'Good evening, Mrs. Weasley'.)
"You shouldn't work so hard. You're only one person, Percy." The young woman had taken a liking to mothering him, he found. Mothering them all really, probably due to her expanding belly and odd midnight cravings Ron had whined about the past few months (if Percy didn't know any better he would have thought Ron was the pregnant one, what with all his complaining and moodiness). She had often brought him lunch, dinner, sometimes even breakfast when she had found him hunched over his desk having never even left for the night.
"If I don't do it, it won't get done." he said flatly. She hummed at this; she had the same issue in her department as well, according to stories she had shared with him last year. It had only gotten better for her when she announced her pregnancy to everyone who would care to listen -- though Percy doubted the same would work for him, unfortunately.
"Well, what are we working on tonight, then?" she sighed, putting on her reading glasses. He didn't remember when she had gotten them, just that they made her eyes look large and glossy, and her face too petite for her neck. It was both an endearing and hilarious sight.
Handing her a book and some forms to her, he responded; "History, actually. We've been concentrating on trying to separate fact from fiction, if you will, from Prophet articles during the first and second war." He grinned at her 'hrmph!' and went back to his own work.
"You mean there were articles during the wars that actually contained real, factual information?" he could tell she was amused -- how could she not, really, with her history regarding Prophet writers. He shrugged, as he didn't really have an answer; so far he had only found one mention of fact, possibly a second (though he had no extra paperwork to cross-reference). Hermione sighed again, and they got to work.
It was a nightly thing for them recently, to work across from one another. Silence was something they both seemed to cherish, something they had in common since the time they were in school those few years together. And it was comforting, Percy thought often, to have someone he could just sit quietly with and write, occasionally read. It wasn't romantic in any way -- oh no, no chance of that at all, even if he had at one time maybe thought of the possibility of them together. It was friendship, more than he had ever experienced.
And Percy liked it very much.
Elizabeth|Hufflepuff