So...yeah, this is my first official challenge story...so wish me luck! It's for the lovely Rani Jashalithie's "How I Met You" Challenge.

Pairing's Percy/Audrey, location is the Ministry of Magic telephone booth-thingy, prompts are comforter, blurb, and log, and quote is "I only bother replying to nice people."

After reading some of the other entries, I've concluded that this lies somewhere in the range of somewhat-odd to downright-awful, but whatevs.

Regardless of the result, this was just incredibly fun...so thanks, RJ.

And to everyone else, if you happen to read this, it'd be absolutely-positively-wonderful if you reviewed. XD

Anticlimax
Percy/Audrey; Ministry of Magic Telephone Booth; comforter, blurb, log; "I only bother replying to nice people."

It was a quarter til eight in the morning, and Percy Weasley was walking on air (and walking to work, although walking to work was considerably less interesting than walking on air.) Oddly enough, he rarely walked to work; in fact, he rarely walked anywhere at all. (Because punctuality was infinitely more important than fresh air, no?)

But today was different. He needed to clear his head, for he had been up horribly late last night...when he had met her. He had interviewed her for a secretary position, and they stayed talking in the Leaky for hours afterwards. Of course, she wasn't just a secretary, because what was attractive in a girl with no ambition? She was in Floo Regulation, but she wanted this for the sole purpose of experience. And he liked that. A lot. (Actually, Percy Weasley was utterly convinced he was in love. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he was hopelessly in love with her - from her thick glasses, to her blond hair in the perfect knot on top of her head, to the heels in which she made a brave yet fruitless attempt to walk, and even to the neatly embroidered A.S. on every one of her handkerchiefs.)

It was a quarter til eight in the morning, and Audrey Salisbury was reposing on her couch with the Muggle Times, the Prophet, and a steaming mug of black coffee. She relished Wednesdays, for the sole reason that she was allowed to work away from the office. She turned to the comics and restrained a giggle, wondering why the things that made her laugh were so...odd.

There was a loud crash from the next room. (Audrey, rather uncharitably, hoped that Althea had cracked her skull open.) Althea Savage was Audrey's flatmate, and a more savage person would be difficult to find. They had both applied for a room through the same flat-sharing agency in Diagon Alley, which unfortunately happened to pair people by surname.

Althea - who had unfortunately not broken any vital bones - came tottering in on higher heels than normal. "Oh hell, I think I'm late. And on the first day too. Audrey, be a dear and tell me the time."

Audrey scowled. "Seven-fifty. Your new manager wouldn't like it if you're late, would he? Are those heels for his benefit? Because, 'Thea, I'm sorry to sound so crude, but you look like an awfully tall cow."

Althea looked down at the floor and blinked five times in rapid succession. (Perhaps that was a bit harsh. Under all the dears and darlings, it was easy to forget that she really was a human being.) Before Audrey could apologize, Althea regained her composure. "Keep your temper, darling. I was just going to ask you for a favour, but - "

Audrey pushed her glasses higher up her nose, and spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm not doing anything for you."

"You realize that you're technically obligated?" She continued with the lilting tone of somebody who knew perfectly well that she had the upper hand. "Remember when I pulled some strings and got your parents' house temporarily connected to the Floo Network that day when you felt the need to move half of the contents of their bloody attic into the flat? And that time when you wanted to help with your mum's spring cleaning? That's twice, dear. Twice. And you know how difficult it is to connect Muggle houses."

Her teeth were still clenched. "Fine. Fine. So what exactly am I obligated to do?"

But Althea hesitated...which was odd, since she never faltered. (She must be very far gone.) "Well, I...I...I want to make a good impression on Mr. Weasley, you see? So I'm going to have to Apparate in...just to prove I can. It takes...talent to Apparate." She continued now in a bit of a rush. "And I have some terribly important documents, and I don't want anything to happen to them, 'specially since it's the first day. So it's your day off - "

"It's not my day off. I'm still working, just from - "

"Darling, you've told me before. So where was I...yes. So because you're not going anywhere today, could you drop off the papers at the Ministry at precisely half-past eight? Just go through the visitor's entrance and ask for Mr. Percy Weasley's office."

"Visitor's entrance...I...erm..."

Althea smiled with pity. "Oh, I forgot. You've never been to the Ministry before, have you?"

Damn her superiority complex. "There's no shame in being a St. Mungo's - "

"Yes, yes, I know, dear. Quite. So I'll just give you the address. Can I have a scrap sheet of paper, then?"

Audrey tore off a leaf from a notebook lying on the coffee table - one of those old battered things that was so awfully ubiquitous but never used.

Balancing the sheet on her hand, Althea wrote something on it in her flawless script, then passed it to Audrey along with a briefcase. "So here are the papers...and I've written down the street address of the entrance, and my number in case you get lost."

"You have a telephone? A Muggle telephone?"

"Well, yes. We work with Muggle Relations, and - "

"But I could've sworn your new boss was in International Magi - "

"I said we work with Muggle Relations, not in it, darling."

Audrey turned up her nose in what she considered to be a dignified manner, lifted up the Muggle newspaper again, and stuck out her tongue.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Althea spoke with a honeyed tone, ominous in its sweetness. "I only bother replying to nice people...and you may find that if you get lost and call me, I just won't pick up."

She turned on the high heel of her shoe, overbalanced terribly, and Disapparated with a wobbly crack.

It was exactly half-past eight, and Percy Weasley was leaning against the inside of the telephone booth. His head was so filled with thoughts of...her, that he had completely forgotten the input code. (Is this what love was? Or was it infatuation...but what was the difference, really?)

She was...very beautifully dignified, though. And simply...very pretty. And - oh dear, he was very far gone.

It was exactly half-past eight, and Audrey was clutching an old-fashioned briefcase filled with Althea's something-or-the-other, and was also very, very lost. Shethought she was on the right street. But it looked shabby and dingy and...honestly, downright disgusting. Did she have to tap on a brick or something, like in the Alley? If only -

Oh. A faded red telephone booth - old and apparently abandoned, but hopefully in order. She would swallow her pride and call Althea.

But as she got closer, she saw - damn - that the booth was occupied. Oh well. Her need was greater than...his.

"Excuse me? Could you get out for just a second? It's rather urgent."

Percy jumped up in shock at the knock on the glass. Oh, a Muggle. "It's out of order," he yelled through the door.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Likewise. What are you doing on this street in general?"

"Looking for something...a...a building."

"The only thing here's the Ministry of - " Oh hell. "The Ministry of...erm...telephone booths?" Percy bit his lip, and tried not to bury his head in his hands and cry. (He was an official. He should have known better.)

"Oh, don't bother. I'm not a Muggle...I...I thought you were."

He exhaled deeply, out of relief more than anything, and then resumed his customary businesslike demeanor. "Yes, yes...I quite see. This booth's the entrance to the Ministry. Street Entrance. So since that's resolved, what do you want us for? Because I'm in incredibly close contact with the Minister himself, and - "

Talk about pompous. "No, no, I'm fine. I just need to give a few papers to somebody...do you by any chance know a Mr. Weasley? Percy Weasley?"

"Speaking, actually. So...who exactly are you?"

"Your new assistant's flatmate."

He let her into the telephone booth, and then there was a short pause in which they none-too-discreetly appraised one another.

Audrey's first thought was something along the lines of what-the-hell-does-Althea-see-in-him?

He wasn't handsome in the conventional sense (nor in the unconventional sense either). Not a single hair on his head was out of place...except for those few strands that fell into his right eye when he tilted his head against the wall. It somehow made him look more...human. So did his glasses, which happened to be lopsided...and the fact that his left sleeve was rolled up a little higher than the right.

There was a certain sincerity, perhaps an earnestness, to all of his actions. Audrey couldn't place her finger on it.

He was carrying a jacket folded up over one shoulder, and a thick brownish book. All that was visible was a title, something to do with cauldrons.

When he saw her glance towards it, he straightened a bit and nonchalantly adjusted it so that a bit of the blurb on the back cover was showing. Mostly jargon that she couldn't read, and awfully circuitous words that she could, yet chose not to use on a regular basis. (Who would?)

He rose his chin up by an inch or two, then lowered it somewhat smugly. Pompous git.

Except that he wasn't quite a git...was he?

Percy's first thought was something along the lines of what-the-hell-does-Althea-see-in-her?

Must be impossible for those two to share a flat. She wasn't like her at all...or was she?

Too substantial to be elfin, yet too elfin to be substantial.

Her hair was windblown...a little too windblown to be decently proper. And her eyes sparkled too much to be normal, and her face was much too expressive. (One of those people whose emotions were visible regardless of the situation.)

Butterfly, must be. Seemed the Prophet-reporter type.

Except...her square glasses gave her an interestingly intellectual look, enhanced by the dark circles under her eyes. (When was the last time she had slept properly?) She moved her hand up to her face for an instant to rub said eyes, highlighting the ink smudges on her right index finger and her awfully chapped lower lip. She looked at him once more, her expression grave and serious in its inquisition.

Interesting...very interesting...very, very interesting.

(But anything more?)

He spoke first. "One second...I'll have to log this."

"Pardon?"

"Enter you into the logbook." He fished a notepad and quill out of a pocket of the coat on his shoulder. "Name?"

"I'd say that's a tad overkill. This isn't even official, is it?"

"I apologize, but it is regulatory procedure. Name?"

"Audrey Salisbury. A as in apple, U as in umbrel - "

"No, I've got it." Percy looked rather disgruntled. "I'm a Ministry official, not a first-year."

"Suit yourself. Is that all, then? I need to finish today's paper."

"Bit more. Contact information and such. So, then, place of work?"

"St. Mungo's. But I work at home on Wednesdays, so you can't really contact me at the office."

"You're a healer?"

"Nah, research department. Can't deal with the blood and gore. Nor the people, actually." Her subsequent laugh was lovely in its self-deprecation.

He gave a half smile back, for the sake of doing something. "I...I know what you mean."

"Honestly. 'Course you don't."

"I do. I...I...can't deal with people either. Rubbish at it."

"I think you're more rubbish at lying. Ditch the sympathy-thing, will you?"

He sighed, wondering why he was baring his soul to this Audrey girl. "Oh, you don't really get it...and I don't either. Perhaps...well, anyone can seem like something else. I s'pose I'm just a pompous git pretending that I know where I want to go...and how to get there."

She was equally candid in response, speaking before she could second-guess her motives. "Pompous, but not quite a git."

The silence that followed was illuminating (to her), empathetic (to him), and not in the least bit awkward for either.

"Right, then, I need to just check the contents of the briefcase and then you're free to go."

She jumped at the suddenness of his speech before handing it to him; he lifted up one knee and balanced the case on that. It fell on Audrey's foot before he could open the first clasp, leaving her biting her lip in utter agony.

They tried once more. When placed onto the floor of the booth, it took up almost three-quarters of the space, leaving them squished together on one end. He bent down to open it, smashing her toe for the second time. She hit Percy on the head, he shot daggers at her with his eyes, and then threw away all remaining shreds of dignity by purposely stepping on her foot again.

In the end, she waited outside the booth while he opened the briefcase. The contents were as speculated - except they were wrapped carefully in four comforters.

"The damn idiot! No wonder it was so heavy on the way here," cried Audrey through the door, rolling her eyes.

He repacked the briefcase and bid her farewell. (Formally, very formally...considering everything.)

She waved, smiled, and Disapparated.

And that was...all. Anticlimactic, to say the least.

It was a quarter til nine, and Percy remembered the input code now: six-two-four-four-two. Except somehow, going to work didn't seem so attractive a fate. Even to see her. (Her, not her. Not anymore.)

Speaking of her, he honestly wished that he was forthright enough to have asked her for butterbeers before she left. If only.

It was a quarter til nine, and Audrey didn't find the newspaper interesting anymore. Her work was even less enchanting of a prospect.

So she rested her head on a sofa cushion, and dreamed a bit. Mostly of him. (Not him, but him.)

Oh, hell, Althea was most certainly going to kill her after this.