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A/N Many thanks go out to my friend, the Teen Typist, for shoving me back on track.
Barrater: those who bartered their public office for private gain. They are ascribed in Dante's Inferno as inhabiting the 8th level of hell.
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I think this is going to be the hardest and most painful thing I will ever have to endure. I can't even think of anything to compare it to, I am so flustered at the moment.
How can I go back to them? What are they going to think of me? Will they even take me back? I've been a complete prat all year, and I can't think of anything to say that will undo the past months.
Penny tried to tell me that it wasn't my fault and that anyone would have done the same thing in my shoes and in the same circumstances, but I know it's just talk. I made a terrible choice, and now I have to live with the backlash.
It's going to be very hard, though. I mean, I have never had to abase myself in front of anyone before. No, I'm not saying I've never been wrong before. I'm not pompous enough to think that, no matter what the twins say about me.
I've just never been this wrong. Not when it was important.
I still can't believe it, and I have seen the shambles the Ministry is in at the moment. It's an utter nightmare over there right now, and suddenly being the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister isn't such a prestigious position.
Not that it ever was, really. I am. . .no, I WAS a glorified secretary. A lackey. A toady.
A possible spy.
Yes, I see that now as well, though when Dad brought it up I was incensed at the idea. It's hard enough trying to get any recognition inside my family, I didn't appreciate his views on the matter at work.
See, no matter what I do, I am always second at everything. I was the second Prefect in the family. Second Head Boy. Second hand owl. Second hand broom. Second hand clothes. Second hand job.
Dad got me in at the Ministry in the first place. Oh, he tried to reassure me it was under my own merits, but I know he talked Crouch into giving me the initial chance. Merlin's Beard, the man didn't even know my name.
So when Fudge offered me the job as his assistant, I jumped on it. How could I not? It was my Golden Fleece, and I grabbed it.
I thought everyone would be so proud of me. I had finally done something first. Finally done something completely on my own. I truly felt like my contributions to society would matter.
When Dad said he thought Fudge had ulterior motives, it was as if my whole world crashed around me. I screamed emotions at him that I never knew I held in check, hurled years of resentment and anger at him that I didn't even know I harbored.
I think it scared me almost as much as it scared him.
I know it terrified Mum. And Ginny. She looked at me as if she had never seen me before.
At the time I convinced myself it was their obsession for Harry overriding their reason, but I think even then I knew he wasn't the dangerous criminal Fudge was making him out to be.
I mean, it was Harry. I've played chess with him. I've helped him with his homework. He's as much a part of the Weasley Family Tree as I am.
Maybe even more so.
How on earth am I going to rectify the situation I have created? Can I truly just waltz back in for dinner on Sunday and ask for forgiveness before sitting down at the table? Should I wait for a formal invitation? Should I send a written apology to them instead?
How do you tell the people who matter the most to you that you were completely wrong and you're sorry? And then make them believe you?
I am so nervous right now, I don't think I could light a candle, let alone Apparate or Floo over. I have to do it though. I have to. Where's my Gryffindor courage when I need it?
I've never told anyone before, but the Sorting Hat mentioned putting me in Slytherin for a few moments before deciding ultimately to place me in Gryffindor. Maybe it made a mistake after all.
My ambition overrode my loyalties and my sense of duty. That isn't bravery, it's avarice. It's my own voracity for notoriety coming back to consume me in the end.
So how to rectify the situation. How to right the gravest wrong I could commit short of outright murder. That's my quest.
I heard somewhere once that the deepest level of hell was set aside for betrayers and barraters. Maybe I can stem the tide before I set myself any further down that path.
It's time to go home.
A/N Many thanks go out to my friend, the Teen Typist, for shoving me back on track.
Barrater: those who bartered their public office for private gain. They are ascribed in Dante's Inferno as inhabiting the 8th level of hell.
***********************************************************
I think this is going to be the hardest and most painful thing I will ever have to endure. I can't even think of anything to compare it to, I am so flustered at the moment.
How can I go back to them? What are they going to think of me? Will they even take me back? I've been a complete prat all year, and I can't think of anything to say that will undo the past months.
Penny tried to tell me that it wasn't my fault and that anyone would have done the same thing in my shoes and in the same circumstances, but I know it's just talk. I made a terrible choice, and now I have to live with the backlash.
It's going to be very hard, though. I mean, I have never had to abase myself in front of anyone before. No, I'm not saying I've never been wrong before. I'm not pompous enough to think that, no matter what the twins say about me.
I've just never been this wrong. Not when it was important.
I still can't believe it, and I have seen the shambles the Ministry is in at the moment. It's an utter nightmare over there right now, and suddenly being the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister isn't such a prestigious position.
Not that it ever was, really. I am. . .no, I WAS a glorified secretary. A lackey. A toady.
A possible spy.
Yes, I see that now as well, though when Dad brought it up I was incensed at the idea. It's hard enough trying to get any recognition inside my family, I didn't appreciate his views on the matter at work.
See, no matter what I do, I am always second at everything. I was the second Prefect in the family. Second Head Boy. Second hand owl. Second hand broom. Second hand clothes. Second hand job.
Dad got me in at the Ministry in the first place. Oh, he tried to reassure me it was under my own merits, but I know he talked Crouch into giving me the initial chance. Merlin's Beard, the man didn't even know my name.
So when Fudge offered me the job as his assistant, I jumped on it. How could I not? It was my Golden Fleece, and I grabbed it.
I thought everyone would be so proud of me. I had finally done something first. Finally done something completely on my own. I truly felt like my contributions to society would matter.
When Dad said he thought Fudge had ulterior motives, it was as if my whole world crashed around me. I screamed emotions at him that I never knew I held in check, hurled years of resentment and anger at him that I didn't even know I harbored.
I think it scared me almost as much as it scared him.
I know it terrified Mum. And Ginny. She looked at me as if she had never seen me before.
At the time I convinced myself it was their obsession for Harry overriding their reason, but I think even then I knew he wasn't the dangerous criminal Fudge was making him out to be.
I mean, it was Harry. I've played chess with him. I've helped him with his homework. He's as much a part of the Weasley Family Tree as I am.
Maybe even more so.
How on earth am I going to rectify the situation I have created? Can I truly just waltz back in for dinner on Sunday and ask for forgiveness before sitting down at the table? Should I wait for a formal invitation? Should I send a written apology to them instead?
How do you tell the people who matter the most to you that you were completely wrong and you're sorry? And then make them believe you?
I am so nervous right now, I don't think I could light a candle, let alone Apparate or Floo over. I have to do it though. I have to. Where's my Gryffindor courage when I need it?
I've never told anyone before, but the Sorting Hat mentioned putting me in Slytherin for a few moments before deciding ultimately to place me in Gryffindor. Maybe it made a mistake after all.
My ambition overrode my loyalties and my sense of duty. That isn't bravery, it's avarice. It's my own voracity for notoriety coming back to consume me in the end.
So how to rectify the situation. How to right the gravest wrong I could commit short of outright murder. That's my quest.
I heard somewhere once that the deepest level of hell was set aside for betrayers and barraters. Maybe I can stem the tide before I set myself any further down that path.
It's time to go home.