The clock was ticking away on the wall.
Every so often, when he found himself losing a bit of interest in his paperwork, he would lift up his head to glance around the tiny office he'd been given for his newly acquired position. It was hardly impressive, hardly much of what he'd envisioned when he was a schoolboy; but he was there, nonetheless and figured (hoped) that he would be given the chance to prove himself worthy of more once everything would begin to settle down.
He could prove to Minister Fudge that he was quite capable of handling these mundane tasks he was being assigned and that he could take on on more-perhaps leading up to the day when the Minister would believe him to be a qualified candidate for the minister position once it was time for Fudge to retire.
Being the minister was something he'd idealized ever since he became a prefect. He liked having order and structure; he liked the thought of becoming more, becoming further along than his own father was.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth, to think of his father, it did. His lip curled; his father didn't have that same desire as his son to better himself. He was perfectly content with staying in the same position for the rest of his life, never trying to climb the work ladder or think of putting his family first.
That ticked him off more as he became older and started to understand. It was utterly irresponsible and selfish for his father to continue working the same lowly, poorly paying job while he had seven children to care for! All those years of hand-me-down clothes and materials, all those years of his mum fretting over how they were going to pay for things; all those years of hearing snide remarks about his school uniform had a couple patches and seemed a bit small on him. He hadn't paid much mind to those people before, before he was a prefect and suddenly thrust into a circumstance where eyes were on him and those eyes were noticing things that notably distinguished him from other pure-bloods.
His face would light up with a blush; he would try to disregard what the others said because it simply wasn't worth it. Malfoy had certainly a grand time giving his unsolicited opinion and Percy had heard the same remarks coming from Malfoy's father during the times when Percy and his family had run into them when they were out and about in Diagon Alley. More than one occasion Malfoy's father had outright said they were an embarrassment to pure-blood's everywhere.
Percy had always been instructed to never listen to what the Malfoy's or anyone other dark family said. They were wrong, he'd been told countless times and for a long while, he believed them. It wasn't so much that he'd adapted their prejudiced attitudes, so much as it was that by working alongside Minister Fudge and seeing things from an entirely different perspective, it brought to light just how different his family was in comparison to other wizarding families.
And he hated it.
He was the odd one out in his own family. He wasn't anything like his siblings. He didn't have the same charm that Bill had or the athleticism that Charlie had; he wasn't as creative as the twins and he wasn't as brave as Ron. Ginny, it seemed, had a combination of skills that she'd inherited from everyone. Everyone but him.
It hadn't bothered him before. He'd just brushed it off, more so out of habit because what other choice did he have? Their cheeky comments didn't go unheard of nor did his parents' blatant favoritism. It didn't matter how mature he tried to approach the topic or if he managed to get his parents alone (as seldom as it was).
They didn't care.
And it was killing him on the inside.
Or, it had.
He'd grown used to it, used to being told it was only a joke and there's no need to get so worked up over nothing.
Over nothing. Percy wanted to scream. He wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake them until they understood. It certainly wasn't nothing. He wasn't getting so worked up over nothing.
What made it worse was knowing that his mother was only saying those words to him. She would never have uttered that if it was Ron or Ginny that was upset over something that the twins had done to them. She would have scolded the twins thoroughly, though never really pulling through with any punishment and they knew that. That's why they were able to keep going on without fear of the possible consequences.
Still, she never would have made Ron or Ginny feel so stupid. She never would have been so condescending. Had it been them, no one else would have given them a side-eye, an eye roll at their supposed dramatics or muttering about what a prat they were being.
It was only him.
Only him.
Him.
Percy let out a ragged sigh.
Sometimes, he loathed being a Weasley.
The clock was still ticking.
If he froze, if he made sure it was totally silent within the room, he would be able to hear the ticking noise.
He glanced over at the mound of paperwork that sat neatly on the edge of his desk, that seemed to have magically grown since the last time he took a gander. At any rate, it was going to take him most of the evening to finish it if he was going to meet Minister Fudge's deadline. It was to be done promptly by the next morning and not a moment later.
He rubbed at his bleary eyes until there were spots that floated in his vision and it stung with a brief pain.
He knew he ought to start packing up for the day, to leave right now so he would get home in time for dinner. His mum would have his bum if he came home late again. He'd been doing that a lot lately, getting so caught up in work that by the time he had a peek at the clock, it was nearly time for his parents to be going off to bed themselves. They wouldn't, though. Not until they knew all their children were where they were supposed to be. More than once, Percy had to hastily excuse himself from a meeting or rush out of the office, promising that he would get whatever needed to be done sooner or later. It was all to avoid an argument with his mother or have her threaten to write a strongly worded letter to Minister Fudge over all of the nonsense, as she referred to it.
It was thoroughly embarrassing. Percy's cheeks had reddened from fury the first time those words came flowing out of her mouth. He'd been nineteen years old and she still insisted on treating him like some imprudent child. As if he was incapable of making his own decision.
Embarrassing and infuriating. She tried to run his life as she saw fit, expecting full cooperation from him, acting shocked and angry when he would push back. She assumed that she knew what was best for him, even now.
Yet at the same time, Percy didn't feel like his mother knew him at all. His parents, more often than not, made him feel like some outsider that was graciously allowed to stay in their home.
Because they don't know you, a voice in his mind would whisper. They don't even like you. They wish you were like the others.
It came out of nowhere, that thought did. But it made sense, far too much to remain comfortable. It caused Percy to reevaluate things, to look at the bigger picture. He'd come to realize that his family didn't really know him, didn't really understand him and often regarded him as if he was someone else besides their own son and brother.
When was the last time his parents hadn't exchanged that knowing, hesitant smile after he said something? When was the last time one of his siblings hadn't rolled their eyes after he said something or said something passive-aggressive? When was the last time someone hadn't forgotten to tell him that they were going out or that a meal was ready? When was the last time someone hadn't invited him to join in on a game of quidditch or anything because they'd figured he wasn't interested?
When?
He felt a bubble of irrational anger rise up to the surface, just itching to erupt. It had come to the point that the feeling was all too familiar; that by merely thinking about his family, it brought up those hostile feelings. It came to where he didn't even wish to be around their presence.
It was just too much. Too much negativity that had been brewing for so long, for so long that he had to keep to himself because he knew someone would find a way to ridicule or scold him for it.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sooth an incoming migraine that could've either been from his lack of proper eating, dehydration, his irritation that seemed to be spiking or a combination of all three. He leaned with his elbows pressed on the desk, burying his face in his hands. He had to calm down, had to brush those thoughts away. He had to be professional, especially in the midst of what was going on right now.
Minister Fudge was increasingly coming to the ministry with a foul mood, which was worsened with the situation regarding Potter and Dumbledore. He'd gotten ill-tempered, quick to snap and had fired a handful of workers in the last week or so. Percy did his best to tip-toe around the man, anxiously checking over his work two or three times for any mistakes. He didn't want to give Minister Fudge any reason to sack him or mention to any other potential employees that he was a terrible worker.
(He shuddered at the thought).
Potter and Dumbledore were unwavering in their absurd claims that You-Know-Who was back. It was utter rubbish! Potter could have encountered anything out there that most likely confounded him and planted that idea in his mind.
Percy had shaken his head in dismay when his family was quick to believe them. The words of those two fools were taken as if it was spoken by Merlin himself.
Had they no dignity?
And it wasn't just his family either-some of those that worked within the ministry believed them as well! It was dumbfounding, to think that no one was thinking with their head. Just what were they thinking, committing social suicide? It wasn't looking good. Minister Fudge had quietly ordered someone to keep an eye on those individuals, should they suddenly act...rash.
Percy didn't even want to think about that.
He didn't want to acknowledge the invisible division line that had been driven in within the Ministry, that separated the ones that had believed and sided with Potter and Dumbledore and the people that were remaining loyal to the Ministry.
An unnecessary complication, an irreversible consequence.
Minister Fudge was under the impression that Potter was lying about the whole thing, he'd exclaimed such so during one of their meetings. He was adamant that it had something to do with Dumbledore wanting to seek out the minister position, effectively taking Fudge out. Dumbledore was a threat, then. He was using Harry for his own gain and Harry was either too blinded to see it or he was in on it, having not liked Fudge from the beginning.
Once the TriWizard Tournament was over, Fudge had requested that Percy come to his office for a little chat. Naturally, Percy's mind had been running rampant with worrisome thoughts, since it was typically never a good thing if one's boss wished to have 'a little chat.'
As it turned out, Fudge wanted to inquire Percy's opinion on the matter. He wanted to know if Percy was falling for those absurd rumors that were dominating the newspapers and talk among the entire wizarding world.
Percy rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles, trying to swallow back some of his apprehension.
He heard a voice say to him, "Ahh, Mr. Weasley. Come in, come in."
Percy pushed the door open. "You wanted to see, Minister Fudge?"
"Yes, yes. Sit down, will you," Minister Fudge gestured to one of the vacant chairs that were in front of his desk.
He did so, crossing his legs at the ankles.
"We have much to discuss, Mr. Weasley."
"About what?" Percy tried to keep his voice leveled.
"You and your family are acquainted with Harry Potter, correct?"
He needn't ask. Minister Fudge knew about his family's relationship with Harry already.
"Yes, Sir," he said carefully.
"Would you say you're close with Mr. Potter?"
Percy was a little baffled by the question. "Not particularly, Sir. He's my brother's best friend."
"But you would say that you've talked, correct?" Percy noted the sharpness to Minister Fudge's tone.
"...Yes, Sir, we have."
"I see," Minister Fudge hummed.
Percy furrowed his eyebrows, uncertain of where the conversation was treading to. "Forgive me, Minister, but I don't understand what my family's relationship with Harry has to do with anything?"
"You will, Mr. Weasley. You will."
There was a definitive silence. As unprofessional as it was, Percy glanced away from Minister Fudge, looking over at anything else. He didn't know why, but he was beginning to grow quite uncomfortable by Fudge's piercing stare.
"I'd hoped you weren't going to be a disappointment, Mr. Weasley."
"What?" It felt as though he'd been doused with icy water. "W-what do you mean?"
"Tell me, do you believe those rumors, Mr. Weasley?"
His tongue felt awfully flimsy. His legs were shaky. "I-erm-"
"Mr. Weasley," Fudge narrowed his eyes. "I asked you a question."
"No," he blurted out.
It felt almost wrong to say it aloud but nevertheless, he did. He did and now that they were out in the open, he couldn't take it back.
And now the entire meeting made sense.
He wished to know if Percy was like his family and agreed with their assumptions.
Like his father.
His family-his imbecilic father-was going to ruin his chances of being something great; they were going to ruin any chances he might have at becoming Minister one day.
And they didn't care. They didn't stop to think about him and his wants and desires.
Because you aren't important enough, that voice reminded him silkily. Maybe if you were different. Maybe if you weren't so ordinary.
Percy hadn't wanted to be ordinary. He didn't want to be looked at as the forgotten Weasley anymore. He wanted to make a new name for himself, something that would show the world his greatness.
He wanted to be extraordinary.
And the words just spilled from there.
"I've always had a bit of a suspicion about him," he admitted.
Minister Fudge seemed to perk up at hearing that. "Oh? A suspicion about what?"
"I'm not quite sure. He just seems...less than genuine. There's something off about him, that's for sure."
'Would you say he's a reliable source for what seems to be occurring?"
"No," Percy shook his head. "Surely not."
"I see," Minister Fudge repeated his earlier words, stroking his chin. "Pardon my intrusion, Mr. Weasley, but you earlier stated that Mr. Potter is your brother's best friend. Is that correct?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Has that friendship affected your family?"
Anyone else might have thought it was too much of a personal question, least of all a bit strange.
"Yes," Percy breathed. "Quite so?"
"May I ask, how?"
Percy divulged how Potter had put them in danger countless times without thinking things through, how he had no regard for any rules and was determined to do whatever he wanted, whenever he pleased. He added that it was thoroughly frustrating how his family just fell for it and saw Potter as some celebrity rather than the spoilt child he was.
By the time Percy had finished ranting, he paused to take a deep breath.
Throughout the time he'd been talking, Minister Fudge hadn't interrupted. He hadn't asked any questions or made any comments. He gave Percy respect, he gave him what he wasn't given at home.
And it felt so good.
At the end of the meeting, they rose to their feet and Minister Fudge shook his hand. "Thank you very much, Mr. Weasley. You have been very helpful. I will see to it that you are rewarded."
Percy all but beamed. "Thank you, Minister!"
Potter was lying.
Potter and Dumbledore were trying to bring Minister Fudge down.
You-Know-Who wasn't back. That was nonsense. Anyone that truly believed it was much too naive.
Even his own family.
Especially his own family.
Percy took one last look at the clock. He would decide to work a little longer and return home whenever he was done. It didn't matter if his mum screamed from the rooftops at him for his disobedience, he wasn't going to let her ruin his life any longer.
Or anyone, for that matter.
Percy Weasley wasn't going to be the boring, bookish Weasley anymore. He wasn't going to let his family run over him like he was a doormat.
He was going to be extraordinary and outshine them all.
He'd show them.