Logical Love
"How was your day, Hermione?" Percy asked, climbing into bed beside her. She was curled up with a book, which was hardly surprising, but what followed was less than predictable. With a scowl, she snapped her book shut and placed it on her bedside table. Percy blinked. When Hermione was engrossed in a book, she rarely gave up reading it quite that easily. Usually, Percy got some noncommittal sounds and gestures, not her full attention.
"It was infuriating," she said through clenched teeth. "I've been working on a new draft of my house-elf legislation, and today my boss told me that I needed to scrap it and start working on something else entirely. I'm still going to work on it, though. How can I not? It means too much to me."
Percy sighed. He could understand his girlfriend's frustration—after all, his father had had similar experiences with the Ministry not understanding his love of all things Muggle. At the same time, however, Percy didn't want Hermione to make waves. Waves rocked boats, and rocked boats meant sackings. The Ministry wasn't exactly known for accepting insubordination.
"Look, I'm sure that was very...unexpected," he said carefully. "But your boss knows what needs to get done, and your legislation was probably not important to her."
"Not important?" Hermione repeated. "Not important?"
"I didn't mean it like that!" Percy said. He nudged his glasses up his nose and reached for her hand. "I just meant—you know how radical your ideas can be—"
"There is nothing radical about wanting elves to have rights!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling her hand away. Percy winced. He was about to endure yet another lengthy lecture on the unfair treatment of house-elves, he just knew it.
Sure enough, his girlfriend launched into a diatribe against Wizarding society, faulting them for their complacency and lack of empathy for the creatures she so fervently supported.
A quarter of an hour later, she paused to take a few deep breaths, and Percy swiftly took her wrists in his hands.
"Hermione," he said gently. "You know I support your passion for elf rights. I really do. It's just...you also know how hard I've worked to get to where I am, and I'm afraid that my job will be in jeopardy if you keep on like this, as will yours."
Hermione stared at him. "So what you're saying is that you care more about your job than you do about me, or about the house-elves?"
"No, I—" Percy shook his head as he struggled to verbalize his thoughts. "I just think that you need to tread carefully. That's all."
"Got it," Hermione said, her voice frosty. She yanked her wrists free and rolled over onto her side.
Percy bit his lip. Clearly, he hadn't communicated his thoughts very well, and now Hermione was mad at him. He didn't know what to do with that information, however. A small voice in his head told him that he should try and hash it out with her right then, but a larger part of him knew that they were both too inflamed to have a productive conversation.
With another sigh, he removed his glasses and switched off the light. He would have to try and make things right tomorrow.
"Goodnight, Hermione," he murmured into the darkness.
"Goodnight, Percy," was his girlfriend's clipped reply.
Percy closed his eyes and willed sleep to overtake him. In the morning, he would pen an essay for Hermione, laying out all of his feelings in a clear and comprehensive manner. After all, written communication was where he excelled, and Hermione would surely appreciate having an organized document to refer to.
With reason and intellect on their side, they could work through this. Percy was certain of it.
WC: 625
