12:00
He couldn't go to work today. He wouldn't. He would take a sick day. He'd never taken a sick day in his life. But somehow the parchment fluttered shakily to his outstretched hand. The ink was harder. He spilt it in his bed before he managed to scribble a note: I apologize for my late notice; unfortunately, I am unwell, and incapable of making it in for my shift today. I will attempt to complete as much of my work as possible at home today, and I will certainly be in early on Tuesday to catch up. I apologize again for the inconvenience. Sincerely, Percy Weasley
There were green thumbprints on the outside of the parchment. He summoned an owl before he could think of what he had done. The owl swooped in, grabbed the parchment, and tilted its head when he told it to charge it to the ministry.
His department was a month ahead of schedule, thanks to Percy's strict work ethic. It was poor judgement to set a bad example. And there were still the cases of Ramynic sightings to review, and exportation procedures to refine, and a whole briefcase of other work to do. In his opinion, the supervisor was rather lax with the schedule.
And Percy was staying home today.
Because he slept in.
Why did it feel so good?
12:30
Percy finished making his bed. And searched desperately for something else to do. The floors were clean enough to eat off. The shelves were dusted. The books were organized first by genre, then by reverse alphabetical order. His laundry was done; washed, dried, mended, folded, and neatly sorted into the appropriate drawers.
There was nothing to do.
There was nothing left to do.
You know, I may hate this place, Percy thought first vehemently and then again with open-mouthed surprise as he stared up at the ceiling. He was spread – eagle on the worn wood of the kitchen floor. It was a ridiculous, and childish, and no one was there to care. If he had been at the burrow, everyone would have looked at him strangely, and his mother would no doubt have said something like, "Up now, Percy-dear, if you have the energy to be a bother, you have the energy to help me do these dishes."
No one could look at him strangely now, unless they had x-ray glasses, and they were mostly muggle tales. Sometimes the stuff that muggles came up with to fill their lives with some sort of magic, was a lot weirder than actual magic itself.
He missed the burrow, and yet he felt so good to finally be on his own. Proud of his accomplishments, confident in his success ~ relieved? Was it relieving to be away from home? It was quieter here. Cleaner here. There was less pressure. He didn't have to be Perfect Percy anymore, and he could do what he wanted, get down and lie on the floor. So why was this the first time he had ever done such a thing?
He had a right to look ridiculous sometimes, right? He couldn't imagine the looks on his coworker's faces if they could see him right now. A small chuckle surprised its way out of him, and the sound rang in the air.
The smooth coolness pressed into his back, as he reflected. It was a perfectly serviceable flat; there was a small bedroom and a small kitchen and a living room just big enough for his bookshelves, his desk, the fireplace, and a perfectly serviceable couch. Everything had its own place.
Neat and order, and proper. Sensible, really, the only possible solution.
So why do I want to rip the pictures off the wall?
They were landscapes. Done by a wizard of some talent, they depicted acres of life-like green rolling grasses. They were currently popular, likely to become a classic, and exactly what an interior decorator would recommend for a small home; to give it the illusion of more space.
Percy despised them.