A/N: Please R&R! Also, I have not become J.K in the last three and a half minutes, and thus none of this belongs to me.
Chapter 2: Law
Percy Weasley
Percy Weasley mumbled the incantation breathlessly, and cursed under his breath as he accidentally shattered the left lens of his horn rimmed glasses, which he was clutching tightly in his right hand. Repairing them with a flick of his wand, he reached for his pocket handkerchief instead, scrubbing them vigorously before replacing them upon his steep nose. Percy took a perfunctory glance around his office to ensure that everything was in order, and nodded in grim satisfaction. He positively adored the structured, controlled environment of the Ministry, but felt anything but composed inside at the present moment. Pius Thicknesse, the new Minister for Magic, had been sworn into office mere hours before, and was likely even now striding down the corridors of the Ministry towards Percy's domain. Ordinarily, the third eldest Weasley brother would have been thrilled to meet the most powerful political figure in the wizarding world, but simply could not remove her face from his mind this evening.
Penelope. His Penelope. The woman who loved him, and, perhaps, one of the few people who truly appreciated the organized archives that constituted Percy Weasley's brain. He could not expel her expression of utter disbelief and contempt from his mind. She had been expecting a proposal. For that matter, on some level, he had been expecting to provide a proposal. He would have conjured the ring from behind her ear. Terribly cliché, perhaps, but it was, after all, how they had first met at the age of eleven. A much younger Percy had been struck by the attractive blonde girl who sat in front of him in Charms class, and had done that same trick with a coin, much to her delight. He had learned that trick from his father, who had once purchased a Muggle magic set. Penelope had been thrilled at the time, because, as a first year student from a non magical background, she had seen very little magic before, and assumed that Percy was more advanced in magical mastery than most of his peers. They had laughed about that in later years. Indeed, she was the only person alive who he could laugh with unabashedly. She brought out his ludic side. Percy had always felt that he could never simultaneously joke and be taken seriously, but there was no need for such worries around her.
However, in recent months, tensions within the Ministry had been escalating. Now, anti-mudblood propaganda was more all pervasive than ever, and it was only a matter of time before legislation was enacted that would make it illegal to marry someone of Muggle parentage. It would hardly have done for the Junior Assistant to the Minister to be caught up in such a potentially embarrassing situation. He had attempted to be as benign and casual about it as possible, which had shattered her all the more. The obituary in the Prophet had been brief and almost snide the next morning, claiming that Penelope Clearwater, aged 21, had died of a brain haemorrhage. The autopsy had been carried out by St. Mungo's, but they were being tight lipped about disclosing anything to anyone outside of the immediate family. However, Percy had known the cause firsthand. Although it was seldom discussed between them, Penelope was especially prone to bouts of uncontrolled magic. As a child, she had demonstrated magical potential earlier than most young witches and wizards, and, given the fact that she was raised in a Muggle home, her parents had been unable to prevent their daughter's outbursts from taking place. By the time that she learned that she was a witch, the outbursts were so entrenched that they could only be controlled, and generally not prevented altogether. They were especially likely to manifest themselves during occasions of extreme stress or tension. Once, Percy remembered, she had accidentally turned Professor Snape's hair purple while writing an exam, but the reminiscent laugh died on his lips. He had never dreamed that the condition would kill her.
Over the last few weeks, Percy had retreated further into his shell than ever before. He had alienated his friends, what few he had, and was ashamed to admit that he was drinking more firewhisky than he strictly should. Even his work had begun to suffer, not to mention his ideology. As he locked his wand in his desk, he assured himself that he did so because clutching it would have been unseemly. In all actuality, however, he was often sorely tempted to jinx Thicknesse whenever he saw the man. After all, he had been one of the driving forces behind the impending legislation. Now, that would hardly do.
Percy had always cherished the rules, and the law, but was finding at last that there was a hefty price to be paid for their sanctuary.