Hello whoever is out there! I have two things to confess; firstly, I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the books, I do not own the movies, I do not own any of the characters unless we are going by The Little Prince's definition of ownership, by which if you really love something and it loves you back, it becomes yours. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. It is in the running for the most beautiful thing ever written) Second thing to confess: I wrote this fic almost purely because I wanted to have nice mental images of David Tennant and Percy Weasley snogging.
Percy looked out over his brand new desk, puffed to bursting with pride. All his quills were there, neatly arranged and sharpened. He had an IN box and an OUT box, for the time being both empty, but soon, he thought, to be filled with neatly stacked documents of vital importance. And, last but not least, he had a shiny metal name plate that read Percival I. Weasley: Department of International Magical Cooperation. Percy took out his clean, freshly-pressed handkerchief and lovingly rubbed invisible dust from the placard.
"Weatherby!" there came a shout from the next room. Percy leapt to his feet, smoothed his robes, and walked in.
"Yes sir, good morning sir, what can I do for you sir?" he asked, admiration gleaming on his face.
The man with the toothbrush mustache stared at him coldly. "Make me fifteen copies of this" Crouch sent a stack of papers into Percy's arms with a flick of his wand.
"Oh" mumbled Percy.
Mister Crouch dismissed him, "That will be all Weatherby".
Percy went back to his desk and set the charmed quill working, specifying the parameters of the task and providing it with parchment that had been stamped with the Ministry of Magic letterhead. Then he went to get himself a cup of tea. He noticed an empty tea-cup left out on the table, dregs of tea were still left at the bottom. Percy thought this a little odd, because Mr. Crouch was such a neat and proper individual, but he tidied away the cup and forgot about it almost immediately.
Percy had been in the office for almost forty-eight hours now; he simply couldn't leave with so much to do! Mr. Crouch might need him, there might be Ministry matters of extreme import, anything could occur. Percy tried to maintain his eager, helpful energy.
Still, it was very late and despite all his efforts to remain focused on his very important work, Percy Weasley was beginning to lose his battle against sleep. He was dozing over a stack of memos when he was half awakened by voices in the next room.
He could barely make out any of the words spoken, just a few here and there. Mr. Crouch's voice was crisp and dignified, even at a hissed whisper as it was now. Percy heard the word "disgrace", then a low, whimpering response. The conversation grew unintelligible, but seemed to rise in intensity. Percy shifted and sank deeper into his doze. Bang! "Enough" shouted Mr. Crouch, slamming something down onto his desk.
Percy jolted awake and leapt out of his chair. "Is everything all right sir? Do you need anything sir?" Crouch, always so in control of himself, looked exhausted and upset. His voice was almost a groan when he said "Go home, Weatherby."
Ok, so I hoped you enjoyed that. I know there wasn't much excitement, but I have to give Percy a bit of time to figure stuff out, put the pieces together etc. I have an outline for this story, so it may end up actually being updated (yay). Please review, you will have my undying appreciation and thanks.
Also, a BIG thanks to Laura for the edits