Who: Percy Weasley When: After work, Friday evening Where: The Ministry Rating: G Status: Complete Summary: Reflecting on where he's at in life.
Percy really didn't care much for his job anymore, but he really couldn't think of much else he could do. His belated rebellion against the last Minister hadn't gone over well, even with the new one, and he'd been busted back down the chain to lackey status. He'd tried to see the good in the new rules and statutes, but while he'd been cautiously optimistic that they'd been only temporary measures to boost the wizarding world's regeneration, that obviously wasn't happening.
Things were still a bit rocky with his family, too. Mum had taken him back immediately, and Dad had thawed pretty quickly. Even Charlie and Bill had been fairly forgiving, though he'd gotten a few words from the both of them on not breaking his mother's heart like that ever again. Ron, Ginny, and especially George were the tough ones. Ron and Ginny had always been stubborn as anything, and while they didn't precisely hate him, they weren't very forgiving, either. George, though, linked Fred's death with his return, and he couldn't really blame him. He couldn't help but do the same himself, a lot of the time. It hurt quite a lot that he'd barely had time to say hello to his brother before he'd lost him again, this time permanently.
Percy sighed, shrugging on his jacket as he looked over his 'office,' the cubicle space allotted to him when he needed to do paperwork. He spent a lot of his time running errands, though, and mostly saw his desk at the beginning and the end of the day. This time it was the end, and he was ready to head out. He felt more grateful each day to go home and simply not be at work. For the first time in ages, he found himself considering a career change, and he'd wanted to work in the Ministry since he was a kid. A strange ambition, perhaps, but then again, given that his father worked there, perhaps not as strange as it might seem.
Flipping off the lights, Percy headed out, ready to head home. His life seemed to have hit a dead end, and he was only twenty-three. It was really rather depressing.