Hermione hadn't been expecting Indian takeaway.
She stopped in the door of the meeting room, one hand resting on the doorframe, and sniffed the air.
"Is that ... garlic naan?" she asked, rather startled at its presence in a place she didn't normally associate with Indian food.
Percy's eyes flicked up from the paperwork he'd been going over, and Hermione was a little surprised to see not condescension, as she'd been expecting, but a flicker of amusement.
"Yeah," he replied, setting it down. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got plain and garlic naan, as well as chicken tikka masala and tandoori chicken." He smiled a little, crookedly. "I suppose I should have asked what you wanted first, but." A shrug.
Well, that was ... a surprise. Hermione smiled and set her briefcase down, reaching for the box Percy had indicated was tandoori chicken.
"I don't mind Indian food at all," she told him, opening it, taking a sniff of the food and smiling back at him.
When Hermione had been told she'd be working with a member of the Minister's support staff on a very important piece of legislation, she'd been thrilled at the chance to prove herself. When she had been told later it would be Percy Weasley, she'd rationalized it that they knew each other already, it wouldn't be so bad. She still didn't know the third eldest Weasley brother that well, just as a quiet presence at Weasley family dinners who showed up last and left first, who only injected his opinion when asked, who still didn't seem to feel he was a part of the family, even over two years after the war ended. But then as word got around Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures, people had started shooting her sympathetic looks and murmuring "good luck, Granger, you'll need it," and Hermione had begun to get nervous. Should she expect some kind of task-driving monster, or the quiet man she saw at dinners? Of anything, Hermione hated not knowing what to expect, and she couldn't ignore the nervousness clawing at the inside of her stomach.
Indian food had never entered into the equation.
As they worked together, talking, writing, editing, occasionally arguing, and - to her surprise - even laughing once in a while, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what Percy the other Weasley siblings had grown up with. This Percy was polite, eloquent, wittier than he gave himself credit for, more than a little awkward, easy to make blush - and yes, he was demanding, nit-picky, and a perfectionist, but it was nothing more than what he asked of himself.
Not to mention, between the two of them, they managed to crank out the beginnings of some damn fine legislation.
"You know, Percy," Hermione said several hours later, setting down her quill and taking a sip of her re-heated tea, "you're not nearly as bad as everyone says you are."
Percy looked up, and he raised an eyebrow over the frame of his glasses. Hermione immediately felt stupid for saying such a thing, and she opened her mouth to apologize when he cut her off with,
"Thanks, Hermione. Neither are you."
Her jaw dropped. He winked, then returned to his work. Despite herself, Hermione felt herself beginning to grin, and she began to compose a new list of expectations about Percy Weasley.