A/N: Well, my first venture in the realm of Star Wars fanfiction. I am a little obsessed with minor character though. I got the idea for this during my exams the other week, and when I got them back. (Gah, getting my maths results back was terrible)This little viggie is going to be the first of many fics featuring the Naberrie family, both with and without Padmé.
Disclaimer: -sighs- you really think I own these characters? In my dreams. All I own is the plot and Pooja's middle/formal name.

Set seven years after ROTS and the rise of the Empire.

High Expectations – A Naberrie Family Fic

The now standard planetary examinations on the world of Naboo had been completed nearly a month ago. Now, after four stressful weeks of uncertainty, today was the day that the results were returning to the nervous teenagers who had taken the examinations.

And Pooja Naberrie was no different to any of those others receiving her results.

The 14-year-old girl was pacing around her family home like a caged nexu, the pent up anxiety creating a restless energy. One that had already unnerved her family to the point where Ryoo had decided that it might be better if her little sister waited it out by herself, a decision that had been taken up by their parents as well.

Pooja, or more affectionately known as Pooj to her family, was both angry and thankful for that choice. She wanted them around her, she wanted them to see if she had succeeded.

But what if I fail? She asked herself. She didn't want them to see that. Not after all the work she had put in to get into the legislative program. To fail would come as such a heavy blow to her.

All Pooja wanted to do was follow the steps of her beloved Aunt Padmé, the highly esteemed former Queen and Senator. Not that Pooja was looking to be Queen, she was more interested in politics. She ground her teeth in frustration, up until the Empire had been declared seven years ago, a person could get into the legislative program of Naboo without all this rigmarole, the Naboo priding themselves on giving everyone a fair go.

But that had been destroyed, just like the Republic, like the Jedi. Everything was dictated to how the Emperor wanted it to be. It made Pooja so mad, to see this happening, and she knew that her Aunt would be screaming if she knew what had befallen the democracy she had fought so hard to uphold. Pooja wanted to continue the work that her Aunt had done, be a voice of sanity in a time of madness.

The girl sighed. Her poor, kind, vivacious Aunt Padmé, Pooja had only been seven when she had died unexpectedly. The official story to the cause of her death was that she died on an operating table of unknown reasons. The rumours, however, were rampant. The fact that she had been pregnant at the time of her death being a shocking and sobering thought to many Naboo, especially her family who hadn't known. The rumours about who the father of the unborn child was flew around, each more ridiculous than the next.

But the Naberries had ignored it all, for they knew. Pooja could remember the times that her Aunt had brought a Jedi Protector with her to Grandma and Grandpa's. That Jedi Protector had been Anakin Skywalker, who later was catapulted to hero proportions during the Clone Wars. But most of all, she remembered the looks that those two had shared when they thought no-one was looking, the accusation by Pooja's mother that she loved him, and that memorable time when Ryoo and Pooja had caught the two kissing in a closet.

But Pooja was startled out her thoughts on her Aunt by the very sound that she had been both longing and dreading to hear all day.

The clatter of holodisks that signalled the arrival of the mail. And of her results.

She froze. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tear up the hall to see what the results were, or if she wanted to run in the opposite direction and hide in her room. Trembling slightly, she walked slowly towards the mail tray.

They were waiting for her there, the bright blue signifying that they were official documents. Pooja wasn't sure how long she stood there, battling with her uncertainty. Finally, she managed to open up the holofile.

To Miss Pooja Sarema Naberrie

We are happy to return to you the results of your examinations…

It greeted her. Pooja broke off reading. This was it, would she be allowed to continue her Aunt's work in what was left of the Senate one day?

She moved back to reading the next few line of the document. And in the space of a few moments, Pooja had dropped the disk on the floor and fled hurriedly to her room, the file still active and readable to anyone who looked.

…However, we are sorry to inform you that your chosen course of Political Studies within the Legislative Program requires a mark of 98 percent, which you failed to obtain…

Fin.

Review. Please.
Expectations equalsPremeditated Resentment – Barbara Johnson