A.N. and Disclaimer- Hello, all! Chapter three, woot woot and all that. I've been busy, as you can tell, so I'm sorrythe update was so long in coming! Note- I do not own Harry Potter, Percy Weasley, theMinistry of Magic, any other characters, settings, etc etc. The plot and Maggie, however, are mine. Enjoy and review!
Shooting the Breeze- Chapter Three- Perhaps
"Mr.Crouch, you have a meeting with Madame Bones in fifteen minutes."
"Tell her that I need to reschedule."
"Yes, sir. For when?"
"It doesn't matter- just- just go. Go... file something. Weatherby, have you-"
"Yes, sir."
"I said go, Nancy. Weatherby- Weatherby, where have you gone?"
"I'm right here, sir." Percy resisted the urge to give the secretary a reassuring look of some sort as she left, for though he had forgotten her name, he knew that it was most certainly not Nancy. He kept his eyes fixed on Mr.Crouch, who, among the neat but looming piles of paperwork, looked something like a mad dog. His entire appearance was in shambles, but neatly, somehow- as a matter of fact, the whole office, the whole department, even, could be described that way; complete stress and confusion masked with the semblance of order. His Ministry robes were hung neatly on the back of his chair, but in such a way that you could tell they were placed there with much condsideration for appearance, despite the unimportance of appearance when things were this mad. There they hung, perfectly straight, doubled over to prevent from brushing against the floor, the Ministry insignia in clear view. Crouch himself was clad in his usual muggle dress shirt- a neurotic white- and neat, dark grey slacks. Not a wrinkle or stain was to be seen anywhere. His eyes periodically widened and squinted, and his face was startlingly cleanshaven for someone so otherwise disheveled. The dark circles under his eyes attested to the fact that there had been very little sleep for days- weeks, probably. Yet he still came to work early and did more work than he should have, a truly amazing, if not stupid, feat. An amazingly stupid feat. This was what Percy admired about Crouch- his ability to keep everything in perfect order without fail, no matter what the circumstances. The obsessive complusive cleanliness of his entire department reflected this ability- as did his coworkers' constant worry of toeing the line.
"Right... have you completed the... the..." Crouch didn't even look at Percy as he increased the pile of papers in his outbox, scribbling his signature and moving his bloodshot eyes over more fine print. Percy frowned.
"The Broomstick Importation Ordinances, sir?" Percy asked, finishing where Crouch trailed off.
"Yes, that's the one. Have you started it yet?" He still didn't look up as another secretary, this one by the name of Jennings, wordlessly placed a stack of folders on the corner of the desk. Jennings didn't acknowledge Percy at all; this just made Percy tilt his head a bit higher as he responded, holding out a thick report in a manila file folder.
"Yes, sir. Finished it last night." Before Crouch could reply (if he was even going to reply), three Ministry-sealed paper airplanes swooped in through the open door, the first two landing neatly on top of the paper Crouch was currently skimming. The other, apparently a cheekier type, did circles around Percy's head and knocked into his glasses before sloppily landing on the desk, point bent in defiance. Percy flinched and jerked his head back, causing his glasses to clatter to the floor. He blinked fuzzily, glaring at nothing in particular. Wonderful. Just wonderful, he thought as he stooped to pick them up, groping around on the carpet with one hand. When he didn't locate them on that side of the desk, he grumbled and straightened up, reaching his hand out. He was about to preform a simple accio glasses when he found them being gently placed back in his open hand. Somewhat confused, he quickly donned them and automatically looked to Mr.Crouch, wondering... no, he was still sitting at his desk, the picture of manic productivity, squinting and signing diligently, ignoring the folded messages entirely, ignoring Percy even more entirely. Percy, downtrodden, looked back in front of him to see the secretary whose name wasn't Nancy smiling at him pityingly. She must have slipped in after the messages did, he thought briefly.
He nodded at her in uncertain thanks. She smiled back. "I'm sorry that I forgot, but what's your name again?" She asked politely. Her curly brown hair was pulled back in a conservative bun, and her teeth seemed startlingly white to Percy. He found himself lost for an answer.
"Weatherby," he found himself saying, voice slipping into the habitual monotone that was somewhat subservient but moreso pompous and generally unpleasant. How had he gotten here? Denying his own name for the benefit of a brilliant businessman? Actually, the brilliant businessman didn't even seem to be listening, Percy noted as he glanced back to Mr.Crouch's desk, but put that fact out of his mind.
The woman nodded, as if she pitied him for it. After a moment of silence, she decided to comment again. "World Cup was good, wasn't it? I mean, the game, of course, not the events that followed." Percy nearly blanched in alarm. He took a cautionary glance at Mr.Crouch, who still hadn't noticed, then quickly looked back to the secretary, the surprised dissapproval on his face quite clear. She just seemed to be waiting for an answer. His expression softened for a moment, then quickly changed it's direction and settled at blank confusion. How odd this was to Percy- had his boss gotten so wrapped up in his work that he hadn't even noticed a casual conversation, the most unforgiving kind, happening right in his office? Right in front of him? Percy didn't even want to think about that much going... well, wonky, in his life at the moment.
"It was... depressing." Answered Percy after a moment, after he was sure that Crouch was completely preoccupied, his voice heavy and stiff with cloaked emotion. That night had been a birth of sorts, an awakening to a lot of possiblities and chances to redeem himself- but in the end, it had turned out worthless.
"Oh, so you were for Bulgaria? Well, that's alright. Krum did get the Snitch, so I suppose that's worth talking about, right?" Here she laughed, her white teeth flashing in an almost predatory way, thought Percy. His face refused to budge from the stoic expression it wore.
"Yes." He said stiffly, cheeks flushed, turning from her and opening a file cabinet against the wall, hoping she would take a hint. After a minute of pointless rummaging, she didn't seem to.
"I was rooting for Britain to make it, naturally, being a big Kestrels fan, myself, but-"
"We're rather busy at the moment, so perhaps you should-"
"Oh, alright, I'll go now." She was still smiling, not minding at all that she had been interrupted. "I bet you're busy after everything that's been going on, of course. I have my own work, anyway, as much as I'd love to forget I had it." Here she laughed. "Perhaps we could have coffee sometime?" Is she truly this oblivious? I've been trying to make her leave and she just- stays- put... "Weatherby?"
It took him a moment, but Percy looked up from the open drawer of files that he had been staring blankly at. "Oh, yes, sure. And your name was?"
"Maggie." She held out her hand and he shook it, trying to keep his bewilderment from becoming too obvious. She flashed another smile, he swore it was more like the bearing of fangs, and exited the office. Percy, for a moment, was frozen with shock. Astounded, perhaps, but numb was actually a more accurate term. He felt no emotion whatsoever at the prospect of coffee with this secretary, no, this woman, and was quite releived that they hadn't set a date or time yet. Hopefully he could beg off whenever she-
"Weatherby, I have an assignment for you."
"Yes, sir." Flustered, Percy immediately closed the file drawer and stepped before the desk, drawing himself up with as much self-importance as he could muster at that unbalanced moment. Mr.Crouch didn't look up as he thrust a stack of papers in a manila file folder at Percy and continued scribbling on whatever ordinance or new law he was trying to have passed. He didn't say a word about the secretary, or anything, really. He didn't even drop a hint about paying more attention to work, just said,
"Have this completed and handed in to me by Wednsday. I expect it to be thorough and well-researched."
"Of course, sir." Replied Percy before opening the folder to see- The International Broomstick Importation Ordinance. Percy furrowed his brow. "Mr.Crouch, sir, I've already-" At that moment Ludo Bagman decided to barge into the office, his jovial grin looking screwed onto his face as he slapped a broad palm on the edge of the desk, almost upsetting a tediously placed stack of scrolls.
"Barty, just the man I'm looking for!" Percy had to control his urge to glare. He settled for frowning dissaprovingly. Of course he's the man you're looking for, you just barged into his own office. By some small miracle, he was there, though knowing you, you wouldn't have even- his internal criticism of Bagman stopped, for his curiosity was now somewhat piqued. Percy raised an eyebrow, for Bagman's voice wavered, he sounded desperate, and looked about as bad as Crouch himself. Percy almost smiled with smug satisfaction at this- he'd probably lost a bet and been threatened, or attacked, or something along those lines. Whatever it was, he probably deserved it.
"Hello, Ludo." Said Crouch wearily, still writing without pause. "What can I do for you?" These words were reluctant, like niceties that must be made to certain people despite the fact that you despise them.
Here Bagman took a quick scan of the office and shut the door, as if preventing any spies from hearing. Percy almost snorted at the notion. It was then that Bagman noticed Percy. "Hullo, Weasley," he said quickly as he strode to Crouch's desk, blue eyes looking bloodshot as they flicked back to Crouch, giving Percy the most fleeting of stares. Percy, somewhat taken back at being addressed by his actual surname, waited to be asked to leave, but when Bagman started speaking in a hushed, hurried tone to Barty, Percy realized that he wasn't going to be asked to leave. His stomach gave a sudden lurch of excitement- he was important enough not to be sheilded from private conversations.
"Barty, you see, I'm in a bit of a pickle here."
"How so, Ludo?"
They trusted him.
"Well, I'm sure you recall those blokes from the Cup? You know, short, long nails, bad hair, kind of dangerous looking... no, not the Bulgarians... it was a joke, a joke!Alright, so they were goblins, not exactly blokes, but I'm sure you understand my reluctance to-"
"Yes, Ludo. I remember. Please go on."
Nearly floating on air, Percy sat down at his small desk in the corner and set the folder down, pulling a neatly clipped quill from a well organised drawer, opening the manila folder with a sense of importance. He began working on the Importation Ordinance again. If Mr.Crouch had assigned it twice, he obviously had a good reason, Percy knew. Then again, there was a lot that Percy thought he knew.
Percy's day had gone spectacularly- so spectacularly, in fact, that he neglected to follow his normal routine of overtime then Apparating back to the Burrow to eat, work, and maybe sleep. Instead, after his overtime shift, he punched out and left through the Atrium, stepping out into muggle London with a sense of pride that could have easily been mistaken for smugness, and probably was by those who cared to notice. He strode out onto the sidewalk, breifcase in tow, and decided to treat himself to something nice, something that he didn't get too often... he thought as he walked along, wondering which affordable eating establishments would be open now. Let's see, it's Thursday, so there's always that nice little Indian place, and... it's Thursday...
"I gave you the address... how's Thursday?"
Percy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. No. That couldn't be right. Alright, so it was right, but that wasn't giving him any good reason to do it. Shaking it off, he continued walking, not exactly sure where he was headed yet. Okay, so it was giving him a good reason to do it, but even so, there was a lot at stake here. He continued walking, a bit faster now, as if the sooner he got to the corner, the easier it would be to decide. What was at stake? Memories were at stake, and just a small bit of pride... He was now torn between two destinations, one of which held a window to a past he didn't want to remember, and the other... the other was anywhere else. Memories were worth it, but pride... perhaps not. He stopped at the corner, reading the street names slowly and meticulously, as if trying to memorize every detail on the signs. Hesitating, he began to turn right, but before his feet had carried him three meters he was turning back and hurrying in the other direction as if he had been going that way all along.
It was more crowded down this way, and before long, a stranger in a dark jacket hit shoulders with Percy, throwing him off balance and causing his briefcase to clatter to the ground, jerking open. Parchment went flying. Percy cursed under his breath as he leapt up and tried to catch as many as he could. Way to be inconspicuous, Percy. People walked by, not looking at him or at his scattered papers.
A stack of crumpled parchment in one hand, Percy grabbed the breifcase and shoved them in. All of the work that he would have to re-do! And even if it was still legible, he would most certainly not hand anything in to Mr.Crouch that had been walked upon! There must have been dozens of other peices littering the walk, and still no one seemed to want to help or notice. He looked hopelessly around, wondering if it would be worth it to use a Summoning Charm, when he heard someone call... er, his name. "Weatherby!" He turned around to see Maggie jogging from the direction that he had, a merry smile on her face as she waved at him. He noticed that she had her shoes from work in her right hand, and was now in muggle sneakers.
"That's a bit of a mess, isn't it?" She asked, jogging up. She immediately reached down and picked up a few papers, and was amiably chatting as she continued to do so. Percy noticed that her Ministry robes were nowhere in sight, probably tucked away in the well-worn brown messenger bag that she carried. She was dressed in a simple gray midlength skirt with a white button up blouse, a normal outift that wouldn't look out of place at a muggle place of business. His robes, he knew, had been folded neatly inside the suitcase... he started, frantically turning his head this way and that, searching the ground for his robes. "Here," Maggie said, handing them to him, apparently after picking them up off the ground. A lot was escaping Percy today. He took them at once and held them out, surveying the damage done, then noticed that this was hardly inconspicuous for being surrounded by muggles. He haphazardly rolled the robes up and tucked them under his arm as he stooped and hurriedly snatched the last peices of parchment up alongside Maggie, as if to prove he was capable. As she shut the briefcase and handed it back to him with a large smile, he realized that she was the only person on that street who had bothered to help him, and it wasn't out of pity, either, he was pretty sure. Did kindness really stem from assosciation? He thought that perhaps she had gone out of her way because she felt indebted to him for some reason, maybe because she had bothered him in Crouch's office. But then again, she hadn't really noticed his irritation, if there was any. Was Maggie only helping him because she knew him? He wondered what it was that made him so invisible to others, then.
Perhaps it wasn't he who was invisible, perhaps it was Weatherby who let himself be overlooked.
Perhaps her smile hadn't been so predatory, after all.
A/N: And now, Blaise Zabini makes a brhombus of pizza... wait... oops, wrong story! My bad! Aaanywho, please review and tell me watcha think! Next chapter, Oliver makes a reappearance, and things happen! Ooh, suspense!