Archive of Our Own ^beta

Percy looks down at the sheet of parchment in front of him. Not quite the thickness and shine of first-rate, but not the flimsy, never-quite-right colour of duplicated that they use at Hogwarts, either, the champagne-gold iridescence of the seal of the Ministry of Magic in stark contrast to the jet black ink the actual letter is written in. 

Dear Mr Weasley, the letter says in the florid, nearly indecipherable hand of Hortensius Strickland, one of the Minister's Senior Assistants, we are pleased to offer you the post of Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic… 

It’s everything he dreamed of, when he first started working at the Ministry. 

It tastes like ashes in his mouth.

Because, despite what the twins often claim, Percy does, actually, have more than scroll smarts. 

He knows exactly why he's been offered this, exactly why his career has potentially been hauled out of whatever dead end it was likely to end up after the mess with Mr Crouch. 

In Percy's defence, Mr Crouch had always been… well, a little eccentric. And he'd been so damn busy trying to make sure everything ran smoothly - and done a damn fine job, if he'd said so himself - that it had never occurred to him that nobody else had noticed something was wrong. 

But then, that's the story of Percy's life, isn't it? He cares about the details, the unimportant things. The unglamorous, boring minutiae that nobody else did but that someone had to. Cauldron bottom thicknesses might not be as exciting as Quidditch, but proper regulations mean some hapless soul isn’t going to be splattered with potentially dangerous potions, and if it means Percy has to be militant about the difference between three-twentieth and two-seventeenths of an inch, then he will. Safety regulations are written in blood, he’d read somewhere, and Percy is determined that no blood will be spilled on his watch, if he can help it. 

He’d kept to himself after the whole debacle, buoyed by the quiet words of comfort and praise he’d gotten here and there, from people who did understand how much work he’d put in, how many Puffskeins he’d quietly, and expertly, juggled. Hopefully in a year or so it would all have been eclipsed by some larger scandal and he could begin his slow climb up the ladder again. In the mean time, there’s good work, important work, to be done, even if nobody else understands.

And then the Third Task happens, and Fudge goes and loses his Founders-damned mind.

Percy keeps his head down even further, knowing that his last name means he’s going to be one of the first targets. Sure enough, he’s asked his opinion of Dumbledore by someone who thinks they’re being subtle. They’ve clearly not spent much of any time around the twins. Or Slytherins. 

And Percy says, without hesitation, “I think he’s barmy. And a bad Headmaster.”

And the thing is, Percy’s not lying, although not for the reasons people think. He knows his parents worship Albus Dumbledore, but a good Headmaster wouldn’t let Binns keep droning on and turning students off History. A good Headmaster wouldn’t turn a blind eye to how few Potions NEWTs Hogwarts turns out every year because of Snape. (Percy would have loved to take the NEWTs privately, like several of his year did, but even shared, the cost had been out of the question.) 

A good Headmaster wouldn’t have sent Slytherin and Hufflepuff to the dungeons.

So no, Percy’s not a fan of the man. And he is absolutely not going to put his job - his stable, decently paying, important-even-if-nobody-else-cares job on the line for a man who certainly doesn’t deserve it.

Speaking of jobs.

When Percy was called to the Minister’s office this morning, he expected an interrogation, perhaps even a suggestion to find new employment. What he had not expected - or perhaps he should have - was a promotion. And not just any promotion, no. Junior Assistant to the Minister. 

The conversation had started out on expected lines, the Minister asking about Dumbledore, Percy reiterating his opinion of the man. And then he’d asked about Harry, and Percy - who, out of all his siblings, had the best record against Ron - saw the shape of the chessboard in an instant. 

“He does seem to attract a lot of trouble, sir.” The best lie has a kernel of truth, Marcus had told him once, and Percy is going to kiss his boyfriend for that and so many other things the next time he sees him.

The rest of the conversation proceeds along those lines, Percy never outright lying but telling the Minister just enough of what he wants to hear that Fudge thinks Percy agrees with him. And then, just when Percy thinks he might leave this office with his job intact, Fudge claps his hands. “Right, well, Weasley, I have to say, when Dolores suggested this, I didn’t think it would work, but now I see you’re not like your father at all. Tell me, do you like your current post?”

“It’s important work, sir.” And it is, regardless of what his family thinks. Not all dangers wear masks and cast Unforgivables. 

Fudge laughs. “No need to be so modest, my boy. I took another look at what happened during the Triwizard Tournament, and I must say, I think you were treated rather unfairly. You took initiative, which ought to be commended rather than punished. And kept the whole thing from becoming a mess.”

Percy can’t help the blush. “Thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Fudge waves it off. “Nothing more than your due. I did have some concerns - but, well, it’s good to know you aren’t your father’s son after all. Nothing against Arthur, don’t get me wrong, but…”

“I will take that as the compliment you intended it, sir,” Percy says, because he’s not a fool. 

Fudge beams. “Good man. Now. Let’s not beat around the bush here. I like a man with ambition, Weasley, who knows where his loyalties lie. My junior assistant, Kendra Ndaiye, had to leave recently and I haven’t yet found a replacement. I’d like to offer you the job.”

It’s only nineteen years of Molly Weasley’s lessons in manners that has, “Sir?” tumbling out of Percy’s mouth instead of ‘what the fuck?’ He thinks even she would have understood the lapse in decorum, though.

Fudge, still smiling, says those impossible words again. He’s offering Percy the job of his dreams, a job that will fast-track his career, a job that normally takes years of experience and not a little luck and many, many connections to get. Percy had hoped to be Junior Assistant in ten years, maybe. 

“Shouldn’t it be going to someone with more experience, sir?” is what comes out of his mouth, because despite what his siblings may think Percy does have a fair idea of his own capabilities and this is way, way out of his league. 

“Experience does matter, my boy, but competence matters more,” the Minister tells him. “Tell you what. Take a little time, think about it.” He pushes a folder towards Percy. “Here’s the details. Once you’ve decided, all you need to do is write the official letter of acceptance.”

Which is how Percy is where he is now, in Kendra Ndaiye’s old office, debating just what taking this job will cost him in the end. He resists the urge to cross his arms on the desk so he can - laugh or scream, he’s not sure. He’d dreamed for so very long of advancement, but not like this. Percy doesn’t, though, because he’s not fool enough to think he’s not being watched. 

Lord and Lady, he misses Marcus right now. Marcus would know what to do - in fact, his boyfriend of going on four years now is the reason Percy can even see this job for the trap it is. Despite himself, he can’t help but smile a little at the thought of the other man - Marcus is nothing like Percy thought he’d want but is everything he never knew he needed. Marcus was the first to understand Percy’s ambition, the first to tell him it wasn’t a bad thing. The first to react to Percy’s carefully drawn out multiple-step plan to become Minister not with laughter or even well-intentioned teasing, but narrowed eyes and a ‘Not bad for a first draft, Weasley.’ Which, Percy knows now, is high praise indeed from a Slytherin.

But Marcus isn’t here to tell him what to do, he’s currently at Oxford, doing the degree Percy can’t afford to yet. Percy loves him all the more for that Marcus, despite coming from money, knows him well enough that he’s never offered to pay Percy’s way, just as he knows Marcus well enough that should he ever ask, his boyfriend will do more without a second thought. The knowledge of his regard doesn’t change the fact that Percy still has to figure out how to traverse these Kelpie-infested waters by himself.

There are many reasons to take the job, of course. Not least is the number of Galleons on offer. Percy’s current job isn’t poorly paid, by any means, not by Ministry standards, but if he were Junior Assistant… he wouldn’t have to settle for second-hand clothes or books, or bring lunch from home every single day (although that’s mostly because his mother is an excellent cook.) He could afford a flat of his own, even in London. And if he did have his own flat, he could spend time with Marcus there, rather than sneaking around like he does now, although his family thinks it’s to see Penny. Who is a good friend, but she has about as much interest in Percy as he does in her. Come to think of it, taking this job might be a good excuse to end that particular farce. 

He looks at the number on the parchment again. He loves his little siblings, he does, and he’d take an Unforgiveable for them without a second thought. But there’s a small, selfish part of him that resents the hand-me-down clothes and the making do and mending, the need to carefully plan every purchase, to put a much-wanted toy or book back on the shelf because they just don’t have the money for it. The need to always hold his head up high in hand-me down robes and worn spellbooks, to pretend the cutting comments don’t get to him. 

Marcus had told him, once, that refusing to accept freely given help out of stubborn pride was a kind of selfishness, and Percy can't find it in him to disagree. Not when Bill - who makes more in a month than their father does in six - has to fight for every scrap of help he's allowed to give, has to give presents of schoolbooks and supplies for fear of being accused of spoiling. Not that Bill lets this stop him from spoiling them anyway, but something burns in Percy's gut every time he hears their mother chastise Bill for the job that let him pay for five sets of every one of Lockhart’s useless books.

If Percy's feelings about his younger siblings are complicated, they're nothing compared to how he feels about Bill and Charlie. He loves them, don't get him wrong, and he understands, mostly, that it's not their faults the shoes they left were too big to fill any more than it is Percy's for not being able to fill them, or that he’s never going to be charming like Bill or a star athlete like Charlie. And his brothers are kind, in their way, do their best to offer support and encouragement; it's not their fault their idea of advice is about as useful as flying tips are to a fish. 

People make fun of Percy for his ambition, but nobody seems to acknowledge that Bill and Charlie are ambitious, too. Because they're ambitious in the way Gryffindors are, for adventure, for escape, which is why one is busy breaking thousand-year-old curses and the other is taming multiple-thousand-pound beasts. Rules are for breaking, in their minds, never mind that rules keep people alive. He already knows what their responses would have been to Fudge's offer; setting it on fire wandlessly, in Bill's case, because his eldest brother is a bloody show-off, and plain old punching, in Charlie's.

And Percy had considered it, just for a second. The Hat did decide on Gryffindor in the end, after all. Then better sense (and years of Marcus' influence) had prevailed. 

Because the thing is, Percy does believe Harry. 

Does he want to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? Merlin's pants, no. But if Harry says he is, then Percy believes him.

Because Harry Potter is the reason that Percy still has a baby sister. He will bear the shame of shushing Ginny until his dying day, but it's a shame he can live with, because - against all odds - a twelve-year-old boy faced down a basilisk and saved Ginny, and while he would never claim the life-debt Percy feels the weight of it down to his bones.

Which is another reason for him to take this job. 

The thing is, Percy is good at what he does. He’s organized, knows the rules like the back of his hand, and has a mind for details that is the envy of people many years his senior. There’s a reason nobody realized what was going on with Mr Crouch, and a good chunk of it is named Percival Ignatius Weasley. And he knows, even if very few other people understand the importance of this particular skill, his way around bureaucracy. 

Sure, he could quit, take Bill up on the offer to find something for him at Gringotts, or even apply for the legal secretary post Penny mentioned the other day. But then he would be throwing away this chance - not to suck up to Fudge, but to be of real, actual use in the war.

Because Percy knows that Cornelius Fudge is an idiot. Cunning, certainly, in the ways that politicians are, but ignorant of who does the real work of policy, of governance. Which is, for the most part, people like Percy. Civil servants, bureaucrats, parchment pushers. People who care about things like cauldron bottom thicknesses. 

As Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy will have access to a multitude of things while being junior enough to plead ignorance if something does go pear-shaped. It’s not something he would ever have thought of, before Marcus, but in the years they’ve been together his boyfriend has pointed out that courage comes in all forms, and not all battles are won by charging blithely ahead - in fact, that’s a damn good way to get your fool self killed before you can actually do any good. 

And the thing is, Percy isn’t a fighter. He got decent marks in his Defense NEWT, it's true, but that was partially an excellent grasp of the theoretical and partially Professor Lupin’s excellent teaching. He’s never going to be the kind of duelist Bill is, or have the twins’ sneakiness (would that they applied it to things other than pranks), but what he does have is the ability to finesse paperwork. Which, properly applied, is the kind of weapon that can turn the tide of a war.

Of course, it’s not that easy. Because Percy is aware of the main reason he was offered this job. His last name, and his proximity to Harry. He should resign, he knows, but… that would be the coward’s way out, when he can do so much good. And so he’s faced with one of the hardest choices of his life: resign, and keep his family; or take the job, and cut all ties with them. 

He knows how to do it, even. Knows precisely where to aim the Cutting Curses, knows where his family’s soft spots are. It won’t even be that hard; there are things he’s kept back for years, resentments he’s never given voice to, all in the hope that if he just tried hard enough, his family would love him for who he is. It will break his heart to do it, but it’s got to be done. They’ll understand, eventually. He hopes.

Even if they don’t, Marcus will, Percy knows. But even if he doesn’t, even if this loses Percy the man he loves, if he can make a difference in the war, save even one life? It will have been worth it.

He takes his quill, and in careful, even strokes, writes, Dear Minister Fudge, I am honored to accept the post of Junior Assistant…