Marietta wanted desperately to be done with her awkward, ugly duckling phase. She hadn't been very happy at Hogwarts since her fifth year, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the allergic reaction she had suffered that year that caused her to wind up in the hospital wing with all kinds of noisome poultices applied to her forehead. Madame Pomfrey had kept her head bandaged for several weeks and when the wrappings were removed, her forehead was still covered in purple pustules that she attempted to hide with a balaclava.
For some reason no one seemed to like her after that. The other students stopped talking when she sat down next to them at the table, or they put their heads together, snickering and whispering, when she walked down the hallway.
No one seemed to dislike her more than Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley—the Holy Trinity of Hogwarts, she thought bitterly. Ron in particular looked at her scornfully, and once she was sure that he hissed "sneak" as she walked by. She had turned to look at him in confusion, but by that time he had averted his eyes and she tried to convince herself it had just been her imagination.
She didn't understand why anyone would dislike her. She always followed the rules, she always did as she was told (though sometimes she let her friends copy her notes even though she knew she really shouldn't, but she wasn't sure how to say no so that they would talk to her again). But still no one wanted to be seen with her—no one except Cho Chang, when she wasn't with one of her boyfriends or off in some corner trying to pretend she wasn't crying.
Marietta spent her last two years at Hogwarts developing new nervous twitches—biting her nails, twisting her curls until they snarled, sharpening her pencils repeatedly until they snapped. When she went home her mother said that she frowned too much and looked sullen, that she slumped and didn't hold her head up straight and would be round-shouldered for life at the rate she was going. Marietta tried to do as her mother said. She attempted to imitate the way her mother walked and talked and even held her salad fork, but she didn't think she was pulling it off.
She devised new rules for herself about anything she could think of: which side of bed to get out on, which sock or glove she should put on first, which hand to turn the faucet with when she went to wash her face in the morning. She counted the number of strokes when she combed her hair and when she brushed her teeth, and the number of bites that she took when she chewed. If she passed these tests, she would make the rules more complicated—she must pick up her fork with her right hand, and then take a certain number of bites, and then take a drink of water for no longer then five seconds. Whenever she didn't meet her expectations, she was filled with a deep feeling of sinking, a panic where the words "You'll never amount to anything!" echoed through her head over and over until they ran together.
You'llneveramounttoanything you'llneveramounttoanything you'llneveramounttoanything.
She took scalding hot baths and scrubbed herself furiously with a brush, as if those very words were written on her skin and only this way could she erase them. Only when she finished and slid under the water, exhausted, would she feel a sense of peace.
Somehow she got through the rest of her time at Hogwarts. She was sick with anxiety on the days when she received her NEWTs and her OWL results, but she did well enough. Well enough that when she left Hogwarts she was able to get a job at the ministry, just as her mother had always intended for her.
Marietta started out low enough that there was no talk of nepotism. She was little more than a glorified errand-girl with occasional secretarial duties. She carried coffee to Very Important Wizards in Very Important Meetings who took their coffee from her without a single glance or thanks (except for the one who pinched her bum, causing her to shriek and spill hot coffee all over her new white blouse and his dress shoes—that put an end to her coffee girl duties for some time). She handled papers and stapling and filing and chasing down the new spelled paper clips that were supposed to do the work by themselves, but instead had a tendency to slip away and congregate in the back of messy drawers where they were very hard to find. Marietta became very skilled at slipping into rooms unnoticed while other witches and wizards were doing Important Things that Should Not Be Interrupted, and quietly performing menial tasks for these important people.
One office she was never allowed to slip into was that of "Weasley, P." The door was closed at all times, and she never saw its illustrious inhabitant, no matter how early she arrived or how late she left. She wasn't sure if she wanted to meet him, based on what she remembered of Ron's treatment of her, though she had heard that this Weasley didn't have much to do with his family. Perhaps he was different than the rest, not a prankster like Fred or George, or someone like Ron who thought he was too good for her.
Perhaps, but it was unlikely, she reminded herself. And besides, it wasn't as if she had any chance of meeting him.
-
There was to be an office party. Attendance was not optional, not if you valued your job.
Marietta thought of faking illness, but her mother would never let her get away with it, so she put on her dress robes and pulled back her curly hair into two rather severe plaits.
There. She looked professional at least, if not festive. It would have to do; she was late already.
She floo'd to the reception room at the ministry, and met her mother outside the door.
"You're late."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Her mother nodded as she adjusted the timepiece on her wrist, and Marietta could tell from her expression that she was already gone, checking off the next item on her agenda. "I'll be there in a few minutes; there's someone I need to talk to."
When she didn't move, Mrs. Edgecombe gave Marietta a slight push. "Well, go inside then. No need for nerves—these are the same people you work with every day, remember?"
Marietta nodded and went in, trying to resist her natural impulse to linger by the door and attempt to disappear. This time she didn't have her usual curls to hide behind, so she just stood there and stared at the toes of her shoes. The presence of so many other people flustered her, their bodies packed in close enough to be continually bumping against each other, the constant buzz of their chatter humming like a hive of bees, not giving her any peace to think. She wasn't sure how to react to her superiors now that they were in their best robes, standing around sipping glasses of punch instead of ordering her to do something. What were the rules? Marietta hated not knowing.
"Excuse me, but I don't think we've met before."
With a little jerk, she looked around to see the speaker. He was no one she recognized immediately, yet he had the air of someone familiar about him. She would have remembered if they met before, she decided, though there was no one distinguishing quality about him; Marietta made a mental picture of him for herself: he was dressed neatly with sharply creased pants and a crisp white shirt, he had curly red hair, he wore glasses. An eye for detail, she thought. Very well put-together; a nice-looking young man, she could imagine her mother saying.
"No, we haven't."
Oh, brilliant.
"My name's Percy Weasley."
Ah ha! "The mysterious Weasley, P." she said, without thinking.
"What?" He arched one eyebrow, perhaps already thinking, "This one's batty. Time to move on…"
"The name on the office—your office, I suppose. I've been looking at it for months and wondering who it was. And now I know it's you."
Percy's lips twitched into a small smile. "No one's put it quite that way when I introduced myself before, but I guess I'm the nebulous phantom, Weasley, P."
"I'm sorry, I'm babbling."
"Well, Miss Babbler, do you have a name?"
"Oh. Yes, yes I do."
"And are you going to tell me what it is, or are you going to make a habit of withholding information from me?"
"Oh, I wouldn't withhold anything from you," she said quickly, then blushed. "My name's Marietta Edgecombe."
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Edgecombe. Or would you rather I call you Edgecombe, M. so we can be on equal footing for awhile?"
"I—"
Her mother's appearance spared her from attempting a witty reply. Mrs. Edgecombe instantly put a hand on Marietta's shoulder and said "I'm glad to see you found someone to talk to."
"Oh, Mum, this is Percy Weasley."
"The junior assistant to the Minister." she said knowingly. "How perfectly lovely."
Percy smiled politely and took Mrs. Edgecombe's hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Edgecombe, Floo Network Office." Mrs. Edgecombe leaned in, speaking in what she apparently thought was a conversational, confidential tone. "So nice that Marietta has managed to make some actual conversation with a nice young man her age. If you don't mind me saying, she has a tendency to be rather shy, especially with the gentlem—"
"Mum!"
"Don't worry, dear, I can take a hint. I'll just pop off now and leave you two to chat. Enjoy yourselves!"
Marietta turned back to Percy, half expecting him to have turned and run in horror, but he was still there, looking as if he were smothering a laugh.
"Er—I'm terribly sorry about that. She's just rather…interested in my social life. Or she would be if I had one."
Wait, that's wrong…you're never supposed to tell men that you're boring! Surely she had just committed an unpardonable sin and now he would get away as quickly as possible.
"Well if she's like that all the time, I'm not surprised there aren't as many gentlemen callers as she expects."
Marietta wasn't sure if she should laugh, or feel slightly hurt. "I hope she didn't scare you away, I'm sorry…"
"No need to apologize—it's not as if my own Mum were much different…" His words hung there unfinished for a moment, and a serious expression came over his face. "Anyhow, would you like to go have a bite to eat?"
"I'd like that very much."
She took his arm, and they went off and found a quiet corner, far away from any prying mothers. Marietta had never realized before how easy small talk could be, particularly with someone of the opposite sex. She let Percy do most of the talking, yet this wasn't just because of her mother's advice to never seem like a know-it-all around men. He really was interesting, unlike the previous assortment of insufferable bores her mother had introduced her to. When her mother came to collect her, she was actually sorry to leave.
That night she took out the diary that she hadn't written in since sixth year, and decided to make an entry, just on the off chance that tonight might later be an important event in her life.
-
She was rather disappointed at work when she didn't see Percy about any more than she had before. If she could have, she would have come up with any excuse to run errands to his office, but there was never an opportunity.
After a week and a half, Marietta was beginning to lose hope. That evening must have been an anomaly; probably he didn't really want to talk to her and just been putting up with her because he couldn't think of a polite way to get away. And of course she had gotten all excited over it as if it were the most exhilarating thing to ever happen to her (not that there was a lot competing for that position in her life at the moment).
Then a brief memo arrived in the communal box for the lower-level office workers. One of the other office girls held up the envelope and bawled, "Letter for M. Edgecombe."
Marietta took the letter from her as quickly as possible—she'd never received any intraoffice correspondence before—and ducked into a supply closet on the third floor, trying to find a quite spot to read it.
To Edgecombe, M.
Perhaps you would be amenable to stopping by my office during your lunch break today? There are some business matters I would like to discuss with you.
Thank you in advance,
Percy Weasley
Business matter—what did that mean?
-
He was waiting for in his office. He had made tea for them and he went through the usual motions of asking her to sit, inquiring after her state of well-being (and her mother's health, though that was accompanied by a barely concealed smirk), asking her how she took her tea…
As she was dusting biscuit crumbs off her fingers and wondering exactly why he had asked her here, he finally spoke.
"Well, I suppose we had better get down to business."
She nodded in agreement, trying to subtly dislodge a wedge of biscuit from between her front teeth.
"I'd like you to come and work for me as my secretary."
"Ah." How romantic. You thought maybe he was interested in you as a person, and all he wanted was some extra help in his office.
"I could have just asked to have you transferred here, you know, but I thought I should ask you first."
"Thank you then, I suppose."
"You don't have to answer right away," he reassured her.
"No, that's fine. I'd be glad to."
"Good." He smiled at her, and shook her hand before she left. "I look forward to working with you."
"I do too, Mr. Weasley." Percy.
-
Marietta got used to her new daily routine soon enough. She discovered, to her surprise, that Percy already had a personal assistant, and that there wasn't much work for her to do. Apparently her mother was right about the Ministry being horribly inefficient and bloated, though Marietta couldn't help but like Percy's assistant. Elizabeth was immensely cheerful and outspoken, qualities Marietta had believed grating, but now seemed endearing.
Perhaps Percy didn't talk to her quite as much as she had hoped he would, but he was awfully busy, she reminded herself. He came to the office early, left late, and usually worked through his lunch break as well. Some days he ate nothing at all, which worried Marietta. She got in the habit of picking up a sandwich or a bun for him in case he forgot to bring his own lunch.
"He doesn't look after himself," she explained to Elizabeth as she put the now-daily brown paper bag on his desk, tucking a little note inside.
Mr. WeasleyEnclosed is a roll with corned beef and a side of mustard, since I wasn't sure if you liked it. If you would like me to make any changes, feel free to ask. I hope you take time to eat your lunch today—work can wait, you know.
Enjoy and have a nice day!
Edgecombe, M.
She signed her name with a flourish, smiling slightly. "There."
Elizabeth shook her head. "You like him, don't you?"
"Of course I do; he's a perfectly likeable person."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it, you silly girl."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh yes you do. You want to shag him!"
Marietta blushed furiously. "Really, it sounds so crude if you put it like that."
"I'm just relieved. I was starting to wonder if you were human, but I guess there are some hormones in that—"
"Really, Elizabeth…"
"You fancy him, you do. You fancy your bo-oss…"
"Do be quiet."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, love."
"It's not appropriate though…"
"I'm not even answering that."
-
Miss Edgecombe,
I greatly appreciate the lunches you have been providing. It's most considerate of you, but I'm afraid I'm taking advantage of your goodwill. Perhaps I could make it up to you by treating you to lunch today? It would be my pleasure if you accepted.
Weasley, P.
-
"So how was lunch with the Sex God boss?"
"Goodness, Elizabeth, it's nothing like that."
"Ha, made you blush—not that it's a big accomplishment. Everything makes you blush. Anyway, what was it like?"
"Lunch was nice."
"Nice? You really need to think of some new adjectives, love."
"It was pleasant."
"What did you talk about?"
"Oh, things. His work, school—things we both remembered about Hogwarts, and some more about work."
"You're a lost cause. I take it he didn't sweep you off your feet then?"
"He was very polite. Very proper. He's not out to take advantage of me, thank you. I'm sure he's far too scrupulous for that."
"How disappointing."
Marietta was silent for a moment as she stuffed papers into envelopes. Then she said quietly, "Yes."
-
There was no answer when she knocked on his office door. He must be out, she figured. She used the key to his door to let herself in and tiptoed over to his desk, ready to leave his lunch there and disappear again.
Percy had been sitting in the corner of his office, almost totally obscured by an over stacked bookshelf. When he saw her, he rose to his feet quickly, knocking the book off his lap.
"Miss Edgecombe?"
At the sound of his voice, Marietta jumped and, to her embarrassment, let out a little shriek. The lunch bag fell to the floor with a thud, spilling its contents all over Percy's immaculate carpet.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there," she said, quickly dropping to her knees and trying to gather up the sandwich fixings.
"I'm sorry to startle you." Percy knelt next to her and said a quick cleaning spell so that the stain on the floor vanished. They sat side by side in silence for a few moments. When he wasn't watching, she snuck a look at him out of the corner of her eye, noting the straight line of his rather long nose, the little clusters of pale freckles across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, the perfect pink shape of his ear, all things she had never noticed before. It was the closest to her that he had ever been, so close that she could feel the length of his thigh against hers, warm and firm.
He picked up an orange that had rolled across the floor and set it in the palm of her hand, but it rolled right off again and hit the ground with a bump.
"I must be dreadfully clumsy today," she stammered.
Percy picked up the same orange, but this time he cupped her hand in his, placing the fruit deliberately in the cradle of her hand and gently curving her fingers around it. He didn't let go immediately, and his hand was warm and slightly damp against hers, his fingers long and graceful against her wrist.
Don't let go, don't you dare let you go yet, she willed.
Of course he did, in a minute; he slid away from her, though he didn't stand up, which gave her hope. Instead he removed his glasses, examining them intently before holding them up to his mouth and breathing on them. The lenses fogged under his warm breath, and she continued to watch as he polished his glasses on his shirt. Without his spectacles, his face seemed younger, rounder, with a sweetness that made her wonder how anyone could ever think he seemed stodgy or intimidating. Seeing him this way, her fears felt silly.
"About this lunch matter…" he said, continuing to absently rub his glasses in circles on his shirt.
"No." Marietta shook her head firmly.
"What?" Confusion came across his face—she had never outright contradicted him before.
"No."
She closed the distance between them so that she was pressed tight against his side. Percy's eyes widened as she took his face between her hands and his mouth opened, perhaps in words of protest, but she touched her lips to his before he could speak.
There was an initial moment of shock when she felt his body go rigid. He gave a little gasp, and she was sure she had made a mistake, but then his mouth softened against hers, and his arms went around her waist. He came forward to meet her, half rising to his knees, but pulling her body against him at the same time, not hearing his glasses fall to the floor.
Now he was kissing her back, and she could fully take in the sensation of his lips, warm and dry and delicious, accompanied by the feeling of his starched shirt crinkling against her neck and the presence of his whole body solid and real against hers. She was kissing him, Percy Weasley, beastly Ron Weasley's older brother, her boss.
Her boss. Wait. No.
Her mother's voice echoed through her head: Against office policy. Highly inappropriate. Grounds for dismissal.
She couldn't get him into trouble; it would be absolutely wrong of her to jeopardize his job by…seducing him?
Percy gave a small groan of frustration as Marietta broke the kiss, and disentangled herself from him. She stood up too quickly and felt dizzy for a moment, but then she closed her eyes and dug her fingernails into her palms. The brief jolt of pain brought her back to reality.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."
He was still kneeling on the floor, and he looked up at her, blinking near-sightedly.
"You know employees cannot have any…romantic interactions with their subordinates. It's a rule."
"Of course. You're right."
"It was my mistake."
"It won't happen again."
"Good bye then." She left the room as fast as possible, slamming the door behind her. When she gave a quick glance back, he was still on the ground, fumbling about for his glasses.
After she reached her cubicle, she sat there in a daze for she didn't know how long, running her fingers over her swollen lips.
She had done the right thing, she reassured herself. It was the rule.
-
"He kissed you?"
"Well, I sort of kissed him."
"No!"
"Yes."
"I didn't think you had it in you."
"Well, I guess you were wrong."
"And?"
"And what?"
"And, and, and! And what happened next, silly?"
"I told him that we shouldn't."
"What?"
"It's against the rules."
"What?"
"And then I left."
"You left? You kissed him and then you said that you couldn't and then you left?"
"Yes, yes I left! It was the right thing to do."
"Marietta, you are possibly the thickest girl I have ever met. Sometimes I don't know what you two see in each other, but never mind—what matters is that that was the least right thing you could have done!"
"But he could get in trouble if we got caught breaking the rules."
"That's why you don't get caught. Or you make it so the rules don't apply to you."
"But—"
"You moon over him for how long, you get what you want and then…?"
"Oh God, you're right…I've completely and utterly messed up."
"Well don't sit there and moan like a lovesick cow! Do something about it, girl."
"But he's probably not—"
"If he liked you well enough to kiss you yesterday, chances are he's not changed his mind."
"But—"
"Go."
-
She knocked on his door.
"Come in."
Marietta entered hesitantly, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.
After a moment of shuffling about with papers, he turned to her and looked up. "Miss Edgecombe." His expression was blank, carefully schooled, but his eyes—wary? hopeful, perhaps?
"I handed in my letter of resignation. I'm transferring to another sector of the Ministry."
"I see." Percy clasped his hands against his stomach and exhaled. "Well, if that's what you feel is necessary. I just—don't feel that you have to do it on my account. I can assure there would be no more inappropriate behavior."
"You don't understand, Percy."
His eyebrows rose. "We're on a first name basis now?"
Marietta's throat went dry, but she swallowed and continued. "You're not my boss any more. And if, by some chance, you wanted to be friends outside of work, then I think that, yes, we should go by first names."
"Friends?"
"Yes, that's what people who like each other and get on and maybe occasionally see each other outside of work usually are."
"Do you go around kissing all your friends like that?"
"Actually, I've never kissed anyone like that before, but…" Marietta went bright red, and said very quickly, "I'd like to again."
Percy just looked at her, and said nothing.
"I've probably just gone and made a fool of myself, haven't I? I'm sorry to bother you again."
This time, before she could head for the door, he caught her around the waist. "Two things: first, no more apologies. Second, you're not going to leave like that again."
"Then you didn't mind that I kissed you?"
"Mind? Are you joking? While I am certainly not in the habit of erm, snogging my secretaries senseless, I suppose…one does make exceptions for exceptional secretaries—particularly when they're no longer working for me."
"Does that mean you would be, say, willing to have another try where I didn't panic and run off?"
Percy pulled her down into his lap. "Oh, I would be much more careful this time. There'd be no running away—unless someone wants to leave."
"No, I don't think anyone wants to leave," Marietta said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Not any time soon."
"Very well," he agreed. "No running away. It's a rule."