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Chapter Text

Percy was officially getting scared.

It wasn't to say he hadn't been scared before, because that would have been very foolish, but back then he had had rather realistic expectations of what to be afraid of, and he had planned ahead somewhat accordingly. There was the matter of carrying his belongings, and he had that handled (courtesy of a shrinking charm and Percy's old leather bag), and his liquidity (a series of quick visits to Gringotts he had made weeks before the argument, when the tensions in the house had started to rise). He had clothes, bathroom essentials and food that wouldn't expire all too soon packed with him- even some shrinked furniture!

When his father had started to get agitated over Percy's position at the Ministry, Percy had had an inkling about what was going to happen sooner or later. Of course, he could never have anticipated what would actually drive him out, but he had prepared to move out fast, that much was sure.

He had honestly not prepared for London's housing market.

Looking back, it was obvious, but the past being in the past meant that Percy was now alone in London, practically homeless, with no place to return to after working hours.

There was a whole section of his work bag dedicated to hold his belongings, and the last two weeks Percy had washed himself in the Ministry bathrooms. He was cleaning his clothes with magic and it was starting to wear on the fabric, and Percy could not afford any new dress robes with the money he was earning at the moment. He was growing desperate.

He needed to find a flat, however tiny or dirty it may be.

Every second after work was spent searching for available rooms or flats, but seemingly to no avail. They were either too expensive or simply not offering Percy any after finding out his age, which seemed unreasonable to Percy, but not to at least seven Landlords and Landladies he had met over the last few days.

Percy sighed. He had slept under bridges and low-hanging balconies for thirteen nights by now, and while he had many charms at his disposal to make the whole ordeal more comfortable than it would be for muggles, a disillusionment charm didn't help the fact that he felt vulnerable and exposed, barely getting any rest.

He was walking the streets of London, on his way to one of the few flats on his list he hadn't viewed yet. His hopes were high, but his expectations were low; in his head, he was already planning how to find an abandoned newspaper to find new offers he could check out.

It took him a few minutes, but he finally arrived in front of a wooden door of a narrow, four-story building. There were many doorbells, each with a label on its side, displaying the name of the respective owner of each flat in the building. Percy pressed the button next to the name 'Miller'.

Just a moment later, he heard loud footsteps coming closer from the inside, and then the door swung open, revealing an elderly lady with graying hair and a bright smile adorned by deep wrinkles.

"Good day, young man! I assume you come for the room, yes?"

Percy nodded in what he hoped was a confident manner. His hands fidgeted around the handle of his leather bag.

"Er, yes, I am."

The lady looked very satisfied, and stepped to the side to let him inside, opening the door wide. The lady ushered him in when he lingered nervously on the doorstep. The inside was narrow; a few doors on Percy's right leading to what he assumed other flats. Taken, probably, because there were doormats in front.

"The room is on the third floor, let me lead the way, yes?" the lady explained to Percy, who hummed in response, and together they made their way up the two sets of stairs.

She introduced herself as Susie Miller on the way, telling him that her son had been preoccupying her second flat, but had now moved away with his wife, leaving it empty. She didn't want to sell, because renting made for much more regular income, and she had always intended it to become a sort of retirement provision. Mrs. Miller was a very talkative woman, but Percy found he didn't mind. She asked him the occasional question ("You won't throw some parties here, i hope!"), which he answered ("Of course not.").

When they arrived, Mrs. Miller showed him the space. It wasn't big, which suited Percy just fine, concluding of a small bathroom with a tiny shower, a room with just enough space for a bed, a nightstand and a wardrobe and a third room with a tiny kitchen and space for a table. There was a communal washing machine in the cellar.

It was 450 pounds a month, and the cheapest price he had encountered over weeks. Percy made 900 ponds per month at the Ministry. He could genuinely afford this.

It took ten minutes to sign the contract, and five for him to move in. For the first time in thirteen days, he slept in a bed. He would never tell this to anybody, but Percy cried tears of relief when he touched the mattress, and he fell into a deep slumber.

Chapter Text

Percy found himself at the Ministry thirteen hours later, fully rested, punctual at eight in the morning. He stepped into the entrance hall with many other ministry employees and took in the view.

It had changed a lot during the last year, that much was certain. The water fountain symbolizing unity in the wizarding world had been stripped of every magical creature, save for the wizard, months ago. The marble statue was now standing tall next to the unevenly blasted stone, staring proudly into the sky. The water fell over the ruins in an ugly manner, in complete juxtaposition to the artistic stream it had been built to create before. Percy remembered this being a very social place, with friendly chatter and social interaction, but now everyone just tried to pass through as fast as possible, gaze turned to the floor to not catch any bad attention. The once spotless white floor was now stained by red-brown stains nobody ever bothered to clean, because a new one was sure to follow very soon.

Percy silently made his way to the ninth floor, where the Minister had his office. He passed a few doors, and he flinched when he heard a loud crash, but he kept walking nonetheless, not without feeling horrible about it. This was nothing new and getting involved did nobody any good. People had found that out before him.

As he entered the office, Fudge was already there, brooding over a stack of documents. He looked up upon seeing Percy, and it looked like a thin layer of smoke lifted itself off of his eyes only to return swiftly. Percy greeted him, polite as ever. He got an appreciative hum in return. Percy had his everyday duties to perform, and he was already getting the stacks of letters he would have to organize and reply to for Fudge. As Percy made his way to his desk, not far away from the Minister's, Fudge cleared his throat.

"Weasley? I require your assistance on this matter first, I'm afraid. Come take a look at it."

"Of course, Minister." Percy replied diligently. He left the letters, and made his way to Fudge. The man was standing now, seat empty. He signaled for Percy to sit, and Percy, albeit uncomfortable at the prospect of sitting down while the other man was standing so close behind him, obeyed.

This was nothing new. When the Minister wanted Percy to take a look at something, he would stand up and make Percy sit down.

It was obviously meant as a friendly gesture to make him more comfortable, but Percy couldn't help but dislike it very much. Fudge would always tower over his head, breathing down his neck and murmuring into his ear. His hand would find Percy's shoulder to support himself while bending down, sometimes even his leg. On those occasions Fudge would absentmindedly squeeze his knee or thigh, depending on where he had put his hand. It was uncomfortable and felt wrong, but Percy couldn't ask him to stop.

He needed this job, he couldn't afford upsetting the Minister over something this trivial.

And it was trivial. Percy knew how touching worked in society. When one is a child, there are rules on who can touch you. Parents and friends can touch, like a clasp on the shoulder or a hug. Teachers can't touch, or strangers. When one is a child, only very few adults are allowed to touch you, but that changes when one becomes an adult. There is no need protecting adults like this, so that meant that touching was socially acceptable. Percy had no reason being uncomfortable, and Fudge had no reason to assume that Percy would feel that way. So it was fine.

Fudge needed help with a regulation hindering the restricted distribution of floopowder to squibs, aiming to reduce discrimination of non-magic wizarding society members. He wanted it dismantled, because he felt that "desperate times call for desperate measures, Weasley. With this situation, we need to make sure no criminals can access such vital recourses."

As Percy rewrote the paragraph, Fudge's hand went onto his thigh, pressing with every minuscule movement, slipping further and further between his legs. It felt invasive of sort, like a hostile organism creeping over his body. Percy was shaking slightly, praying the man behind him wouldn't notice, and thank Merlin it didn't seem like he did. After a dreadful ten minutes, Percy finished and excused himself after checking the Minister didn't have anything else he needed taken care of right now and then, and he finally turned to the mail.

He let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He needed this job.

After working till seven, he came home to a room he had all for himself, safe from any harm bridges and charms couldn't ward off. Percy smiled weakly, letting himself in.

"I'm home." he whispered into the silent kitchen. His keys made metallic plinks which echoed around the bare walls. He didn't bother to cook himself any dinner; he still felt too exhausted from working through his fifteen-minute lunch break.

The head of the International Affairs Department had arranged a meeting on short notice, which had been outside the Minister's schedule, forcing Percy to attend it in his place. The man had taken half an hour longer than planned to explain his very time sensitive problem, which had then taken Percy two hours to solve.

He'd had hours of work to catch up at that point, and he'd seen Fudge's eyes crinkle in displeasure at the delay. Percy was shaking in distress the entire time while he worked overtime to get everything done, and there had not been any time for breaks.

He was so tired. He was home (but not at home, like he had hoped to be).

Chapter Text

Mrs. Miller helped a lot, not that she noticed much of it. She was still getting used to her son being away, so she often found herself underestimating how much she had cooked. Every afternoon, an hour or so after Percy would come back from work, Mrs. Miller ("Call me Susie, sweetheart!") would bring over her leftovers with many excuses for the inconvenience.

Percy would always dismiss those instantly, thanking her instead. He'd never tell her, but oftentimes she was the only reason he ate at all and didn't go to bed hungry and burnt out.

Like he felt now.

Percy sighed, and shook his wrist as he could feel a cramp building up. He had been sitting here for seven hours now, had missed his break and was watching the first people packing up to go home.

He had the feeling he wouldn't make it home in time this day.

The Minister was giving him more work than usual.

It had been subtle at first, and in the morning Percy had actually been ahead of his schedule, preparing for an early departure home for the first time in a long while. But then Fudge had come to his side and, an unreadable expression on his face - was it guilt or pride? Amusement? Or something entirely else? -, had asked him if Percy had the capacity to take on a bit more work today.

"I'm asking-" he had said "-because there have been quite a few people fired today. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I know you're trustworthy when it comes to this sort of matter; it was Blood Traitors that planned theft of important files - the ones preventing extremist terrorism in the Ministry, remember? Well, now we have a shortage on personnel."

Percy had nodded in understanding. Fudge had seemed pleased at this and continued.

"I know you are very competent in what you do, so I recommended you for this task. I believe your diligent and efficient approach will come in handy, won't it?"

And Percy had felt so proud at that moment. He had smiled and accepted, and there had been such a warm feeling in his chest, seeping into his cold bones and softening his brain. This was what he had worked so hard for! Fudge not only had noticed his efforts, but had acknowledged them and adjusted his work to fit it. Percy had been praised by the Minister!

But it was all somehow crashing down on him now.

He hadn't managed to put his quill down in hours, reviewing document after document that was put on his desk by passing Ministry Officials. Whenever he was close to finishing, someone else would drop another stack on top, asking with a sweet smile if he'd mind taking care of this, too.

Percy would smile right back. "Of course not, Ma'am. It'll be no problem, Sir."

It was a problem.

Percy could feel his chest grow tight and his eyes water in frustration. He was so tired. His fingers were shaking slightly, making his usually immaculate penmanship appear more smudged than it should be. His head was killing him; he hadn't had any water yet today and his throat was dry and scratchy.

Officially, there was only one hour of work left, but the stack in front of him would take at least three.

Percy sighted. Three wasn't an option, because Fudge would come to check on him in two and a half hours if he didn't leave on time.

He'd manage in two hours, he promised himself, grabbing his quill again. Everything would be just fine.

He did it in one hour and fifty-seven minutes and he was too exhausted to even feel proud of his achievement. His hands were killing him, muscles spasming and cramping up his entire arm. His eyes were too dry to be watering anymore and his back ached so deep it felt like he was carrying the sky on it; his shoulders were so stiff he couldn't even properly move his neck.

Fudge would come in in half an hour to close the office. Percy breathed out a sigh of utter relief and slight hysteria, his breath hitching uncomfortably in the process.

He had to carefully peel himself from his seat, his joints cracking like fireworks and his whole body protesting against the act. Percy gripped the desk tightly to support himself, and as soon as he stood he took a few moments to compose himself.

It took Percy about five minutes to feel remotely close to himself again, and then he scooped up every neatly sorted pile on his desk and swiftly made his way out to put them where they would be needed tomorrow.

Percy didn't pass the Minister on his way out, and he hoped he wouldn't when he came back to collect his coat and bag. It would maybe allow him to think Percy had finished in time, early than he truly had. It would be more impressive anyway, and destroy any doubts of ever getting rid of Percy because he couldn't do his work. He didn't take much time with the papers, and the halls were dead quiet, making his hurried footsteps echo on the walls. As he arrived in the tidy office, he found the lights on.

The minister was there.

Chapter Text

Fudge was standing still in the office, his head turned toward the big picture behind the Minister's desk. It was a moving portrait of oil paint, showing a gardener taking care of an enormous field of flowers day and night. He would scurry around and cut and dig and plant and water and watch, all with a smile on his face. Sometimes there would be storms or heat waves, but the gardener always persisted, conserving the beauty he had created.

It was a truly impressive piece. It's name was Duty being Fulfilled, which Percy had always found fitting.

Fudge turned around, and Percy was startled by the view. He looked tired and drained; his eyes foggy and darting around oddly. His gaze cleared when seeing Percy, and a smile made its way onto his way.

"Percival." It was the first time the man had ever addressed him in a way other than 'Weasley'. "Sir.", Percy answered, unsure of what else to say.

Fudge took two big, sudden steps forward, right in front of Percy. Before he could even react, the Minister had wrapped his arms around him, drawing him into an awkward hug.

Percy froze. His brain was carefully blank and his limbs were locked up. He could feel the other man's breath in his neck, wet and warm, and his hands were positioned too low to be comfortable, right at the low of Percy's back.

"I'm so lucky to have such an abled assistant like you." he whispered into his ear. Percy just nodded, his heart beating out of his chest, blood rushing in his ears.

"U-Uh- Thank y-you, Sir."

Fudge drew back, now looking right back down into Percy's face. His hands were now settled on Percy's shoulders, and Percy had to strain his neck to be able to properly look at the Minister because he was so close.

"Let me treat you to a drink, yes? To celebrate your hard work today."

Percy grew a touch red. "I'm nineteen, Sir. I'm not permitted yet."

Fudge didn't falter. "It's just one year left, is it? Come on, you're with me, I'll allow it."

Percy wanted to decline. It was late, he was tired and hungry and it was illegal -

But the Minister was visibly growing annoyed by his hesitance and Percy could not afford falling from good grace.

You need this job he told himself, like many times beforehand. He took a deep breath of air.

"I'll just grab my bag, yes?" His voice sounded weak even to his own ears, but the Minister looked pleased.

The bar was small and only sparsely frequented. There were barely any guests, mostly people sitting alone at a table and sipping on a Firewhisky. Against Percy's fear, nobody paid them any mind and so it went mostly unnoticed that the Minister himself was here. That had probably been one of the reason Fudge had chosen it, Percy supposed.

The barkeeper took Fudge's order, and Percy was still so nervous and confused he didn't notice a moment of it. Suddenly they were sitting at a table in a far corner out of everybody's view, and Fudge was talking about a problem in the Department of Transportation. Percy tried his best to listen and participate, but most of it went right over his head.

He was so tired. The barkeeper brought them two glasses of some liquid Percy couldn't recognize. The Minister took a sip, and after throwing him an expectant look, Percy also took a small sip.

Whatever Fudge had ordered, it burned as it ran down his throat. Percy had to suppress a wince and gave a weak smile as he noticed Fudges gaze on him.

He didn't want to, but over the next hours he finished his drink, leaving him feeling drowsy and foggy. He hadn't ever had a drink before, even when uncle Bilius had tried to get him to have a nip of his Firewhisky when he'd turned seventeen. His answer had been the same he had given the Minister, but back then he had had Charlie backing him up. Charlie had told uncle Bilius that if Percy didn't want to drink, he wouldn't, and that uncle Bilius was an adult and shouldn't pressure anyone into drinking, and Percy had been so grateful for his big brother he had nearly burst into tears from relief.

Somewhere in his fuzzy mind he wondered if he'd be in this situation if Charlie had been in the office with him when the Minister had asked him to drink. Somewhere else he wondered if if was possible to get this detached from reality by one single drink.

A voice grated at his subconsciousness. Percy tried to focus on it, but it felt impossible. He blinked sluggishly, his eyes wandering up to a face that was looking down at him from above, feeling too close.

"-ercival? Can you hear me?"

A hand found its way to Percy's cheek, caressing it and going on to pet his hair in a way that felt soft and violent at the same time.

The face came into focus, and Percy realized it was the Minister. He had a strange expression on his face, almost as if he was happy about something, and Percy was feeling confused and a tiny bit scared.

But that was stupid, because that was his boss and he had no reason to be scared of him.

There were words being spoken again. The voice was soft and gentle.

"You look rather out of it, don't you? If you tell me where you live at the moment, I would gladly bring you home, yes? So that you arrive safely?"

That made sense. Percy certainly wasn't in any shape to go anywhere on his own.

"Do you still live with your parents? At the ... Burrow?" There was something akin to distaste in his voice when Fudge said the word, but Percy barely noticed.

"...No." he shook his head slowly. "We're .. not talking right now."

Was he imagining the grin on Fudges face? He must be.

In the end, Percy told Fudge his address. It felt wrong, but he had no reason not to, and he really wanted to go home. Fudge supported him while they walked to his apartment, and his hand burned on Percy's waist. The cold night air somehow didn't help Percy with clearing his mind, and he was still feeling horrible when they arrived at his flat.

Mrs. Miller had put a plastic container filled with chicken soup on the front of his door, with a little yellow sticky note expressing her concern that he hadn't yet arrived when she'd checked in and asking him to tell her he was alright tomorrow in the morning before he went to work.

Fudge took his keys and opened the door for him. He tried to come into the flat with him, but Percy had half the mind to tell him he was alright and didn't have to. Miraculously, Fudge obliged.

Percy closed the door after thanking him, and then he stumbled into his bed. He didn't even bother to change or do anything else he probably needed to do. He just fell into bed and wept himself into sleep, not really knowing why.

Chapter Text

Percy woke up feeling less awful than he had thought he would be. His head was still throbbing painfully, and his hands were stiffer than usual, but it was a far cry than the utter mess he had been yesterday.

Thinking of it, Percy flushed with shame at the thought of the last night. He'd gotten drunk in front of the Minister. He must have looked like an unprofessional idiot! How could he ever face Fudge again knowing he had had to carry Percy back to his flat?

He was still wearing his work robes, and he changed into new ones after being unable to get out the wrinkles he had worked into the fabric during his rest.

As he passed through the bedroom door into the kitchen, he noticed the plastic container from Mrs. Miller and the sticky note she had put on it.

Right, he should probably go talk to her now.

He flattened his red curls before stepping out of the door, his work bag already by his side, and made his way to her door. He knocked, and nearly jumped out of his socks when the door opened immediately.

Mrs. Miller was in her morning robe, a cup of tea in her left hand. She looked put together, as much as one could with a bunch of colourful curlers in ones hair, but her eyes softened considerably when she saw Percy in front of her.

"Oh, sweetheart! You had me really worried there yesterday!"

Percy felt guilt washing over him.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Miller."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an elaboration, and Percy obliged, albeit hesitant.

"A colleague asked me to spend the evening with him, and I agreed. I had no intentions of worrying you, I promise. We just didn't notice it getting late, that was all."

For some reason, Percy felt like a liar when he said all that, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Was it because he was covering up that he had illegally had a drink? Was it because he was leaving out pieces of the story? (Which ones were bothering him enough to not mention them? Why were they even bothering him?)

But the words calmed Mrs. Miller down, and she gave him a bright smile.

"It's Susie for you, didn't I tell you? I'm happy it was nothing, though. But you must understand, old women worry!"

Percy reassured her she wasn't wrong to do so and that he was glad she was looking out for him so well, and that earned him another huge grin as she ushered him away so he wouldn't miss work.

Trepidation made Percy's skin crawl, but he agreed with her and made his way to the Ministry entrance.

The walk to his office was over way too soon, and now he found himself in front of the wooden door, not wanting to push it open. His cheeks were hot and he was gripping the handle of his bag so hard he could see his knuckles turn white.

He did eventually enter, not because he particularly wanted to but because he knew he couldn't be late no matter how uncomfortable and embarrassed he was, and because it would look stupid to stand still and unmoving in front of an unopened door.

Fudge was already there, working at his desk. He looked up at the motion of Percy coming inside, and he smiled.

"Ah, Weasley! I sure do hope you had a good rest, yes? Yesterday you seemed a bit overwhelmed by the drink."

If even possible, Percy flushed even more.

"I- uh, yes Sir, I did. Thank you for bringing me home, that was very kind of you."

Fudge waved his words away without a thought.

"What's a bit of help between friends? Think nothing of it."

Percy nodded, thankful for the dismissal, and was about to turn to his own desk, when Fudge cleared his throat to catch his attention once more.

"I talked to Mrs. Lancer a few minutes ago about the issue yesterday, and she informed me of how unprofessionally some of her colleagues seem to have dumped off their work on your shoulders. I apologize that I didn't notice, but I had a strong word with all of them today, so rest assured it won't happen again."

Percy froze in surprise. A small wave of relief washed over him, and he couldn't stop the smile that was forming from appearing in his face.

"Thank you Sir." he breathed out.

Fudge smiled kindly, his eyes crinkling.

"I do have to say I'm even more impressed with you now, Weasley. I was told how much they were overstepping, and you finished at an outstanding speed. I have yet to receive any complaints about quality, so even that must have been kept up."

Percy was feeling fuzzy from pride. The Minister was such a kind man, looking at Percy's hard work and recognizing it as good. This was all he had ever hoped for, the proof that he had been right in the argument with his father. Nobody was using Percy to spy on the Weasleys, they wanted him for his qualities. His good qualities. The Minister thought so, he was impressed.

Some petty part of Percy glowed at that.Take that, Father.

Fudge laughed good-naturally at Percy's reaction. Then, his face turned a touch more somber.

"On a different note; please tell me should anybody abuse your abilities again like this. I can't have my best employee be taken away from me now, can I?"

Percy nodded. Fudge nodded back.

"Well, now. Back to work we go, yes? I've a meeting with Mr. Lucas, could you handle the protocol? It was a bit too spontaneous to get an enchanted quill for the job."

Fudge stood up, maneuvered himself around his desk, and came forward to put his hand on Percy's shoulder in a manner that was meant to be encouraging, but ended up feeling strange because his fingers grazed Percy's neck a tick too closely and lasted a few moments too long.

But Percy barely noticed. He was impressing the Minister!

They made their way out of the door together.

The rest of the day he was performing at the top of capabilities, but unlike the day before, only a few people came by to ask Percy to take on their extra work. Percy always took them with a smile, and he meant every single one with his whole heart.

Chapter Text

Percy was slowly but surely growing out of his fear of loosing his job over a possible mistake. Fudge was making it hard to, because he was always near Percy, giving out praise like presents at Christmas, and Percy had to admit he had never felt this recognized in his entire life.

It wasn't surprising, with living in such a large family, that he had been a bit starved from all of that. While his other siblings had attempted the route of attention through sheer force, Percy had tried the other one. In the end, Percy couldn't say if trying to be as useful and non-bothersome to his parents had been more effective, but it had at least been the method he'd been most comfortable with.

Fudge was kind to Percy. He trusted him, respected him. When Percy tried his best, Fudge noticed, in a way his parents never could. He'd always stand close, give out appraising touches whenever he could. And while Percy couldn't ever say he particularly liked or enjoyed them, he knew the sentiment behind them.

Because when Fudge would put his arm around Percy's waist, that meant he was pleased with a meeting well-done. And when Fudge would read Percy's reports on things, his hand falling from Percy's back to his lower behind was just him being engrossed enough to forget where he was putting it. He was still making Percy sit down, but now he was less leaning on Percy and more seeking out contact.

Friends did that, right? Percy could remember many instances of Oliver leaning over Percy just for the sake of being close, or Penelope sliding her arm around Percy's waist when they were walking together in the hallways. Percy was making a friend, and that was a good thing, it had to be.

To be fair, Percy had tried to evade the touches to some degree, but each time he had retreated from an incoming arm or hand, the Minister's expression had turned so confused and hurt, Percy had immediately backtracked.

He wasn't even supposed to feel this appalled about touching anyways, so it wasn't like the Minister could know why Percy was acting this way. He was just trying to be friendly.

And he was, almost overwhelmingly so.

Fudge would invite Percy out to dinner, always on his bill. Percy felt guilty for all the money the man was spending on him, but Fudge would always insist. Fudge gifted him an interesting book about the first wizard settlements in Sweden, which Percy loved, and a beautiful new quill that was more gentle on Percy's wrists than any other he had ever owned.

It was making Percy feel both very nice and seen, but also very bad and indebted, and he found himself trying his best to pay him back in any way there was.

When Fudge would ask him to stay late, Percy would immediately do so. Long days became the norm, and Mrs. Miller would demand a longer visit in the mornings because she would never manage to catch Percy in the afternoons.

Whenever the Minister had a bad day, Percy would do his best not to react negatively towards an increasing amount of touches, even if he was innerly recoiling from them, because the Minister seemed to like them and it would calm him down a considerable amount.

Everything was as good as it could be. Percy was doing great.

One day, Fudge called Percy to his desk after a few hours of silent work. As he approached the desk, he noticed a bunch of documents sprawled over it, all marked with a mark signaling them to be of utmost secrecy. Percy's eyes widened as he redirected his glance somewhere else.

"Uh, Sir? I'm not permitted to see these papers, would you be so kind to put them away for this matter? Or we could go over to my desk?"

Fudge wasn't bothered. "Oh, no. That won't be a problem, because I want you to take a look at these. Your administrative skills are much better than mine. It's about the proposal for the funding distribution Mr. Sinclair had on Thursday, he sent me a draft."

Fudge was still sorting the documents, Percy was still pointedly looking away.

"But Sir, I'm in no position that allows me to view these."

Fudge looked up, and laughed upon seeing Percy. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Nonsense, Percival. It'll just be our little secret, yes? Come here, sit down."

Percy felt uneasy as he followed the order, but Fudge looked pleased.

The next few hours they revised the legalities of the proposal, checked with regulations and made sure it was executable with the little staff that was left after all the firings. Percy did most of the work, because, and Fudge had been right about that, he had the broadest and best understanding of the rulebook everyone had to work by in the Ministry.

When Fudge had nothing to contribute, he wouldn't turn to do something else, simply choosing to watch Percy from behind, occasionally leaning over to take a closer look.

The constant surveillance made Percy incredibly nervous to miss any details. Fudge usually didn't see him work, just the results that came afterwards, and Percy was anxiously waiting to make any sort of mistake that would displease the Minister.

It never happened, and when Percy was finished, Fudge clasped him appraisingly onto the thigh.

When they brought the revised proposal back to Sinclair, the man was very impressed with the speed and quality of it all. Fudge playfully winked at Percy when he did, and Percy weakly smiled back.

Chapter Text

It was an afternoon like any other. Fudge and Percy were the last two people in the office, both sorting papers and planning an early meeting tomorrow. The room was dark, lit only by a few candles Percy had charmed to float where they were needed, and most of the time there was a steady stream of conversation. Fudge would occasionally switch the subject from work to more personal matters, though. He'd ask Percy offhand questions, which Percy always tried to steer back to the actual conversation in front of them.

It wasn't the Minister's fault, it was just that Percy found his questions very uncomfortable. Fudge would ask if Percy had already found a girlfriend to move together with, and when he found out he didn't, he would prod about Percy's type, his preferences and other such things.

Percy didn't want to answer that. He'd usually mumble something and ask Fudge about something else, and mostly that would be it.

It became less and less so.

Fudge was more stressed and agitated, lately. There was a lot of public talk about him, and many people were demanding him to step down from his position. The entire workplace was subjected to his moods, and while Percy was usually spared, he too had already experienced being screamed at for a straight five minutes like everyone else.

Of course, the Minister had excused himself profoundly afterwards, expressing his deep regret over his outburst and begging Percy to forgive him. He had stood very close, hunched down to be on eye-level with him, his hand on Percy's waist.

Percy had still been shaken up, if he was being honest, but the words had eased the raw panic he had felt just moments prior, so of course he had accepted it. He'd accept any apology if it meant Fudge wouldn't be angry or disappointed enough to fire him.

So now they were the last ones in the office, and Fudge was having a bad day. A letter by an angry group hadn't been filtered through the mail, and a Howler had made its way into the office. The Minister had been furious, demanding to see whoever had slipped up; a terrified intern had been brought to him, and everyone had heard him yell at him for what had felt like an hour.

His mood had barely improved since then, and Percy was doing all that was in his power not to add negatively to the Minister's horrid attitude.

The clock was slow, and they were spending more and more time in the dim office and the work wouldn't become less and the Minister was asking questions Percy didn't want to respond to but had to because he was walking on eggshells as it was, and Percy just wanted to leave and go sleep in his bed in his flat far away from the Ministry. Maybe spend an afternoon with Mrs. Miller, because in the last month all the working late and spending time with Fudge was making Percy's visits and talks with her short and bare. He felt horrible about that. She still brought him leftovers every afternoon and Percy was suspecting it wasn't because of her son after all that she always made too much, and that thought made something in his heart ache deeply.

The Minister's voice cut through Percy's self-pity.

"Percival, tell me. Are you scared of me?"

"What?" Percy was taken aback. He had expected a lot of things, but not this.

"No, Sir, of course not." That was the correct thing to say, was it? Of course not, Minister. Why would I? Colleagues weren't afraid of each other. Friends weren't.

"Not even when I yell at you? I was being a horrible Minister when I did that. And we're not just colleagues, right? We're like family, aren't we Percival? That would make it worse."

...Percy had been scared when Fudge had yelled at him. But the man had regretted it, hadn't he? It had been okay, because afterwards, he had tried so hard to make it up to Percy, being kinder than usual, treating him to lunch, complimenting his robes, saying he looked very handsome in them, even when it was the ones he wore every day.

Fudge looked awful, like the thought of upsetting Percy was causing him physical harm. He was watching Percy beside him like any negative word from him could make him loose his mind.

We're like family, aren't we Percival?

In the Burrow, family was chaotic togetherness. It was a constant battle for attention from someone so overwhelmed by every aspect of your presence that isn't here. Mother had always stressed over meals, laundry, house cleaning and school. Sometimes it felt like she was fussing over a shadow of her children, never of Percy or his siblings themselves. It was frustrating to the point of tears.

Fudge made time for Percy. He listened to him, made him feel so, so special in many ways Percy had craved all of this time. Sure, sometimes he said or did stuff Percy very much didn't like, but that was just his way of showing he cared; so who was Percy to say anything about that? He wasn't a shadow to Fudge. He was Percy, and that was enough.

Somewhere deep inside of him, Percy knew this was bitterness talking so bad about his family. But bitterness was easy, so he let himself forget soft moments full of tender love and affirmations for now.

We're like family, aren't we Percival?

Oliver had once said that when Penelope and Percy and him had spent a night wrapped in blankets on a small balcony of the Astronomy Tower. There had been candles and sweets and pumpkin juice and the feeling of forever, and Percy had agreed with his whole heart. Oliver had hugged him for a solid ten minutes, and Penelope had giggled breathlessly over Percy's playful attempts to break free.

Fudge hugged him plenty, didn't he? He cared a lot about Percy, he told him that often enough.

Are you scared of me?

Not even when I yell at you?

Percy gulped, and while, for some reason, he felt wrong saying this, he responded.

"No, Sir, I could never."

Fudge smiled.

"I'm very glad, Percival."

And Percy knew he had said the right thing. Fudge looked happy, leaning over to plant a light kiss to his temple.

Something churned in Percy's stomach, but he did his best to ignore it. He had said the correct thing, because Fudge was humming happily and all the traces of his bad mood were gone. Percy had done the right thing.

It didn't feel like it though. He wanted to go home.

Chapter Text

Things changed somehow, after all that. When Fudge and Percy were alone, the man would insist Percy move his desk next to his, and help him with some very secret files Percy absolutely wasn't meant to even catch a glance of. Percy would protest, but the Minister would always dismiss his worries, and Percy wasn't courageous enough to say no to him.

Fudge called it our little secret, and it was starting to become a bit of an anxious thought in the back of Percy's mind, making him stay awake at night in fear of what this could mean to him as a person. Azkaban was one of the punishments for not respecting document secrecy. He could be imprisoned for at least three years.

And it wasn't just this. Fudge was touching him more and more, too. It wasn't just the occasional arm around the waist anymore, or a stray hand on his shoulder, thigh or butt. It wasn't just the friendly gestures Percy was familiar with and accustomed to by the man. Fudge was kissing him.

The first time had caught him off guard already. But it hadn't stopped there. A meeting well done? Fudge would place a kiss on Percy's temple. A productive day? Then as well. It was like Fudge was searching for excuses to do it and Percy felt his skin crawl like ants whenever he did.

And Percy was not sure if that was so wrong.

Because he knew how touching worked. Kids can't get touched by everybody, and that was very good, because kids have to be protected. Adults don't, so friendly touching between colleagues, friends and family was totally okay.

But kissing was something else. Percy knew that kissing was something entirely else.

Family could give kisses. Mother often did, and while his younger siblings tended not to, Bill had sometimes kissed his head when he had been younger and had done something good.

Friends could kiss, too, occasionally. Oliver did sometimes, when he was happy or proud. It was a peck on Percy's cheek or a smooch on his forehead, and Percy hadn't disliked it when he had done so. Penelope had kissed him as well, mostly on the cheek as a hello or goodbye.

But he had been a child then, a teenager. There were different rules for adults.

Mother only kissed Father on the lips, and rarely did she kiss adult family on the cheeks or anywhere else. She didn't kiss friends, and she wasn't allowed to kiss any children that weren't her own, because of the rules protecting children. It was the same with father, or any other adult Percy knew. Kisses were not for work, or for colleagues, or for friends there or anywhere else. Fudge was doing something wrong, and Percy was right in feeling awful about it.

There was only one problem, which was asking for Fudge to stop.

Percy was very nervous to do this. He remembered instances where he had tried to evade the Minister's touches all too well; disappointed and hurt reactions were the norm here.

Percy didn't want to be ungrateful, or impolite. He hated the idea of doing something socially unacceptable, or hurting a friend.

But Fudge was wrong here, and that was okay. Percy would just ask him to stop.

Percy spent hours in his bed, incapable of drifting into sleep and plagued by his own brain attempting to come up with a way to approach the subject politely.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but would you mind stopping the kissing? I'm afraid it might be improper to do so."

Percy instantly cringed, his fingernails digging deeper into his arms. That sounded so egoistical and self-centered! He couldn't say that to the Minister!

He was sitting in his sheets, chin on his cheeks and arms around his legs. He felt like crying in frustration.

It shouldn't be hard to find a way to say that Percy was uncomfortable with Fudge kissing him, because Percy knew that he was in the right with it. If something was correct, the why was it so hard to say it? It had never been hard to say something right in school, or at home. Percy had never felt like he couldn't ask a Professor to talk more slowly, or that mother's stew lacked a touch of salt today. Why couldn't he just ask the Minister to stop?

But, who was Percy kidding, he knew exactly why this was different. It was because he knew mother wanted to make sure everyone liked her food, and always adapted her recipe depending on who was at the table. It was because he knew Professors were striving to make sure everyone could follow along in their lesson, even going so far as to tell every class at the beginning of the year that, should there ever be an issue, they should definitely tell them immediately.

It was because Percy knew the Minister did not want this change at all. He came to Percy when he was irritated, or mad, or anything. He wasn't happy when Percy moved away.

And Percy was, even when he didn't want to admit it, scared what would happen if the Minister considered their friendship to be over because Percy angered him by mentioning it.

His flat was amazing, Mrs. Miller was incredible, and Percy had had it better in the last few months than he could have dreamt.

He couldn't bear the thought of going back to bridges just because the Minister didn't agree with Percy on what is proper, he couldn't.

But the kisses were crossing a line Percy never knew he had. He was going to talk to Fudge tomorrow. He just needed to find the right words.

Chapter Text

Percy was standing in the office, and his heart was beating out of his chest. He was gripping his bag like a lifeline, as if letting go would mean he would wither at the spot.

He had the sentence in his head, and he was repeating it like a prayer.

"Sir, could you take a moment for me?"

The man was in the motion of sitting down at his desk, but halted the movement at Percy's words. His expression was curious.

"Of course, Percival, what is the matter?"

Percy was not afraid. He was nervous, or anxious, but not afraid.

Percy felt a little sick in ways he hadn't experienced since he'd gotten over his fear of public speaking.

"You see, I'm - I mean, I've thought about something recently?"

Nope, Percy didn't want to say it-

He really wanted to say it, needed to say it.

What was wrong with him?

Fudge didn't seem to pick up on his deep mortifying state of mind.

"Oh? What about, Percival?" Percy gulped.

"Just - You know, about how you've been treating me -" Percy cringed visibly, and immediately backtracked. Wrong wrong wrong, - he sounded like an ungrateful brat.

"You've been very kind! Really kind, is all I'm saying!"

Fudge raised and eyebrow.

"And -" Percy was trying to look anywhere else than at the Minister before him.

"- I've thought, I mean, I think it isn't appropriate for work, you understand? For the office? Because it's a professional place, right?"

Fudge was completely still, completely silent. Percy was watching his shoes very intently.

"It just - it just might throw a bad light at you, the -the kissing, Sir, if you understand what I mean?"

Now he did look up, because the office was deathly silent and Percy was deathly afraid of that.

The Minister was sitting ramrod straight in his seat, an angry frown etched into his features.

Please, please don't be mad! Percy's mind screamed. Why did you even have to bring it up! his nerves screeched. His fingers were twitching, his knees jittery.

The Minister was still silent, but his face was going through the motions. Fury, Percy's shaking mind was yelling. Fury, disappointment and acceptance.

He'd be back to bridges next month.

He couldn't go back to bridges.

"Do you not like it?" there was an edge to the words Percy couldn't describe or identify. It felt dangerous, but that was wrong, right? The Minister wasn't dangerous.

Fudge was wearing a strangely blank expression.

"Friends must show their appreciation to one another, didn't you know? Do you not appreciate me?"

This was better than screaming, right? Than anger? Percy wasn't so sure. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, nearly loud enough to drown out any other sound, but still not quite.

What was he supposed to say to something like that?

He couldn't say no, I don't, not quite because it would be a lie, but because it would bring consequences Percy couldn't afford.

He couldn't say yes because that would not quite be the truth, and it could bring consequences Percy couldn't live with.

The silence was going on for too long, Percy noticed with a manic edge to it, and the Minister was still looking at him with that undecipherable expression that didn't give Percy anything to work with in terms of damage control.

He needed to answer, but his mind was going at a million thoughts a second, and every one was a blur of raw panic.

"Sir, I don't - of course I appreciate you!" he said, quickly. Good, first crisis could be tackled with this.

"You- you have been very kind and forthcoming all this time, and you didn't have to, and I'm very happy you took all that time for me -"

This was enough, right? Enough for the first crisis? Fudge didn't look as expressionless anymore as before, and the slight furrow of his brows was lessening, and Percy took that as a good sign. Onto crisis two.

"- but, the thing is that, lately, I don't think it was proper for friends, or even colleagues, you know? I wanted to ask you to stop."

With a racing heart, Percy shut his mouth and tightened his shaky grip on his bag. He hadn't meant to say it this directly, this way. The words had tumbled out and he had lost all control over them, and the mixture of relief and terror was flowing through his blood like poison.

"You don't think it's proper?"

Fudge didn't yell, or scream, or anything. His voice was full of quiet fury, and Percy flinched as if the man had slapped him across the cheek.

"After all I've done for you? You decide whether or not something I do is proper or not?"

Percy's head was blank. He just stared at the Minister with wide eyes and shaking hands. He didn't say another word. That didn't matter, as Fudge seemed all to eager to do the talking for now.

"I do all my best to have you cared for, give you opportunities to prove yourself, and this is what I get as a thank you?" He still wasn't screaming, but the words were doing that for him. Percy stayed silent, and his breathing was speeding up a touch too fast. The Minister didn't care.

"Baseless accusations about what is and isn't proper!"

His blazing eyes met Percy's.

"I swear to Morgana, Percival, if a word about this nonsense leaves this room, then your involvement in sensitive files will as well, and I promise you won't get happy again for a lifetime."

Percy just nodded.

The Minister seemed satisfied enough with his response, and he waved his hand dismissively.

"Go to your desk, I do not wish to hear a word from you for the rest of the day."

Percy obeyed. He didn't speak for the rest of the week, unless he was addressed first.