Percy Ignatius Weasley (perfectlyfine) wrote in iamb_rpg, @ 2009-07-07 16:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, day 1, draco malfoy, percy weasley |
Who: Percy Weasley and Draco Malfoy.
When: October 27. Day 1. 5pm.
Where: In the kitchen (without Dinah).
What: A quarrel over hot water and tea.
Rating: G.
Status: Complete.
Percy had spent hours in his room, straightening up the furniture there. He hadn't even begun to unpack his things yet, as the room was in disarray to his high and rigid standards, and he had needed everything in perfect order first. He had rumpled himself up moving the bed until it was at a perfect distance from the wall, and the table and chairs until they were at right angles. Then he had to change, of course, since without his wand he could do nothing else for the wrinkles in his clothing, and he certainly couldn't wear them like that.
He had made himself presentable, fiddling until the last possible speck of invisible and imagined lint was gone. The room, he decided, was stuffy, without any windows to open to let fresh air in. Although, he had reasoned in his head, a lack of fresh air did mean a lack of dirt and dust coming in from outside and that was one minor plus.
He had read the rules and regulations and information that had been given twice, and was fairly certain he could recite it all off if need be. Leaving the papers tucked in his journal which was very neatly tucked in a drawer, he decided that a quick walk was in order. He departed his room after one last look-over to make sure his own personal impossible standards were met, and walked briskly down the hall, because he didn't want to accidently inspire anyone into thinking that he might want to stop and chat.
He did slow though, when he reached the main floor and passed by the kitchen, interested in seeing what that was like. How clean it was, for one thing, because cleanliness was important when it came to food. Percy stepped through and examined the counter tops and the stove with a critical eye.
Apparently Percy wasn't the first one to be in the kitchen that day, or even within the past twenty minutes because a kettle had been placed on the stove. The coils beneath it were red hot and the pot close to whistling. Beside it on the counter was a cup sitting on a saucer next to a tea bag still tucked away in its package.
There wasn't any time for Percy to turn and escape if he even had that notion in his mind because the owner of the impending cup of tea who had abandoned it there to avoid having to run into anyone, was returning to the Sanctuary's interior through the kitchen's one outside door.
Draco Malfoy looked even more pale when he was outside, the sun washing the colors of his hair and skin. He paused, a delicately boned hand resting on the knob of the door when he saw Percy through the glass and his eyes narrowed instantly. He didn't know which Weasley it was, just that it was most definitely one of them.
He gave Percy ample opportunity to bolt although he'd never had one of those red-headed freckled monsters run from him, before pulling the door open quietly and stepping inside. He felt like an animal eyeing up another male that had wandered into his territory but realized at the same time it could have been worse. It could have been Ron.
Percy was examining the contents of the fridge with a pained expression, because it was completely unorganized (at least, according to him) and he was fairly certain that there was some mold beinging to form on some of the cheeses, which made him not want to eat at all. He heard the soft shuffle of footsteps and turned, and saw Draco Malfoy filling the doorway.
He didn't bolt, although he had no desire to speak with Draco. But it wasn't due to fear or intimidation - he had no desire to speak to anyone. The only conversations Percy particularly enjoyed were ones about work, ones about rules and regulations, or ones with his mother, and Draco was not going to be able to provide any of the above. Plus, he was Draco Malfoy.
"Draco," he said politely.
Draco felt an inward surge of pride that the Wealsey knew exactly who he was at first sight and he had no idea who the Weasley was except for his family name. It was an odd, good feeling in the sea of anxiety that had plagued him from the moment the Auror had come to collect him and bring him to the Sanctuary. The tea, he had thought, would settle his stomach but this was much better.
"Well," he began exuding much more confidence than he actually felt, "It's the first day here and there's only one Weasley here. Let's see how many times you can multiply before the end of the first month."
Percy prided himself on knowing everything, including who people were. As much as he might have loathed to even think it, the Malfoys were important - if for all the wrong reasons.
The problem with sarcasm was that one needed a sense of humour to really get it, and a sense of humour was something that Percy mostly lacked. Or only had in small quanities. So he took what Draco said at face value. "I suspect there will be a good many people here; perhaps members of my family will be among them," he said vaguely. Because he was not in touch with his siblings. Only his mother, and although he owled her a few times a week and she owled back, she always tried to put a positive spin on things, and so she might not even have told him if any of his brothers or Ginny were fit for the loony bin.
"You do seem to always have to be a part of everything." Draco commented dryly, you being, of course, all the Weasleys who did seem more often than not to be just one duplicate after the other as far as he was concerned.
The kettle suddenly whistled, something that would have startled him if he hadn't been the one to put the water on. As it was he still felt momentarily panicked, his heart jumping in his chest since he'd been rather focused on Percy as opposed to when his water would boil.
Putting the kettle on, making his own tea, had been interesting for him. He'd never had to do it before on his own but it hadn't taken him long to figure out. It was pretty obvious, water in the pot and the pot on the stove (not in the oven only because he knew it whistled and he wouldn't be able to hear it in the oven). The little dial had proven to be the most difficult aspect to work out, finding out which knob affected which burner and then deciding which temperature was best. In the end it had worked out and so his first attempt at making anything for himself had been a success.
He poured the water into the cup before setting the kettle back on the burner and then opened up the prepackaged teabag, another detail he had never seen before but figured out how to use because of the directions on the box it had come from.
"Yes, well," was Percy's reply, because he couldn't think of a clever response. Witty words did not come easily to his tongue. It was an exagerration, he thought, on Draco's part. His family was hardly everywhere, there just happened to be a lot of them. And being friends with Harry Potter (well, the rest of his family had been friends with him at least) did tend to put them in the spotlight.
It was a bit strange to see Draco Malfoy making a cup of tea. He didn't know the younger man, not really at all, save for what he'd heard his brothers say about him. And 'utterly spoiled' had been among the things said. Except more more rudely.
He thought a cup of tea might be nice, and so he moved to the stove, although he took care not to get too close to Draco. Lifting the tea kettle, he found it weighted with water still remaining, and decided to help himself.
Had he seriously just done that? Draco almost didn't believe his eyes. It was if the Weasley though that he was here to be taken advantage of, that it was Draco's job to make him tea. Posessive was definitely one of the blond's traits, not only about things that were his but things that he wanted and things he stole. The neither the stove, the kettle, or even the water was his but the thought of a Weasley benefiting from the fruits of his labor was infuriating.
"Oh, allow me," he spoke up in an acidic tone taking hold of the portion of the kettle's handle not occupied by Percy's hands. His were so...freckled and common looking it made his stomach curl.
Percy was surprised by the acridic tone, and looked up, but didn't relinquish his hold on the kettle. So Draco didn't want him to take the leftover hot water. "It's not as though the water's yours, it's free for everyone," he said stiffly. He could have dumped the water out and put more water on, but that would be silly and wasteful.
"Let go," he instructed, because he did not want to deal with foolishness. Nor did he want Draco that close. Draco was one of them a Death Eater, and that most certainly made him unclean, and not someone Percy wanted any accidental contact with. The mere thought made him a little bit nauseus.
On the other hand, Draco did want to deal with foolishness. Quarreling over anything, even something as silly and stupid as hot water, was a fight he couldn't stand to lose. He would like to think it would have been different if Percy hadn't been from the family that he was but it was highly unlikely. His own tea, steeping and forgotten on the counter, was getting cold but he didn't care about that either and he pulled the kettle towards him a few inches being careful not to splash himself or burn himself with the steam.
"No," he insisted darkly and the way he said it sounded like 'make me'.
The noise that Percy made then was one of pure exasperation. It was a well used and practiced noise, because Percy was often exasperated. "Don't be ridiculous," he said in his bossy 'listen to me' voice. "You can't possibly use all the hot water. It would be cold again by the time you went for a second cup." He kept his slender fingers curled around the handle of the kettle, his arms moving out when Draco tugged. He tugged back out of reflex and wondered why he was in such a place, with children! Or people who acted like children.
That isn't the point, Weasley." He was well used to letting things go to waste whether it be hot water or galleons or, he thought sickly to himself, his own life. With that thought the blond relinquished the kettle with a very unhappy face. "Unbelieveable." He muttered and turned away, opening up drawers until he found a spoon so he could fish out his tea bag and add it and the wrinkled up wrappers from its packaging into the rubbish bin.
"My name is Percy," he said, because he had never liked to be referred to as 'Weasley', as if he was just another one of the masses and not his own individula person. He looked momentarily smug as the kettle was returned to his possession, and held onto it as he went to fetch a tea cup. "I suspect, being in a place like this, you're going to have to learn to share," he added prissily. It was meant to be helpful, but as was often the case with Percy, it just sounded preachy.
When Percy introduced himself Draco gave him a weird, upset, and slightly grossed-out look as if Percy had just informed him of when he'd had his last bowel movement. "I don't care what your name is, Weasley, it doesn't matter." The smug look on Percy's face, though, made him want to rip that kettle right out of his hand all over again and beat him over the head with it. Harry Potter annoyed and infuriated him, Hermione Granger grated him the wrong way, but the Weasleys, they took him to a whole new level of infantility.
"It matters," Percy said haughtily. That sort of superiority still rankled him, which was oddly funny given that Percy had something of a superiority complex himself. But he had had to work hard to get where he was in life, unlike Draco who had been born in the lap of luxury. He racked through his mind for some sort of insult that he could fling back, and came up blank. There was nothing he could think of that wouldn't sound foolish or be shot down. So instead he went about pouring his cup of tea with precision, letting the tea bag steep briefly before squeezing out the excess. The bag went in the trash, and he set the kettle back on the stove, precisely in the centre of the burner.
"Of course." Draco answered with a roll of his eyes, leaving the spoon in the sink before turning to take his cup of tea back to his room. "I'm going to run upstairs right now and write in my journal about my brush with the great Peter Weasley!"
"Percy," he said tightly. He went to the fridge to get a spot of milk from his tea, but the expirey date of the carton was questionable and so he decided to take it black. "It's polite to remember the names of those around you," he added, feeling unsettled the more he thought about the fridge and how disorganized it was.
Percy, Peter, Ron, Ginny - they were all the same person to him. "Right. Peter." He repeated and hoped that this time he would be able to make it up the stairs without Percy yelling something at him again.
Percy sighed in a pained manner, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling in a 'why me?' expression that he was very good at. He didn't follow Draco or say anything more. He even seemed to forget about his tea. Instead he opened the fridge and started to rearrange its contents.