novus_george (novus_george) wrote in novus_sceptrum, @ 2010-02-09 21:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | rating: pg-13, when: february 2000, where: london, where: private residence, who: george weasley, who: nymphadora tonks |
Characters: George Harris-Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks
Date: February 10, 2000
Location: Some cheap wizarding cafe near the Ministry
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: George is musing about his future, or lack thereof, when he meets a very interesting superior from work.
Status: Complete
So, George mused to himself, sitting by the window of a cheapest cafe he could find within walking distance from the Ministry. Let's see what we've got, George. We've got a bum flat with a leaking roof, a job with no boss and little hope for promotion, no friends, a family that sends you money but otherwise makes you furious whenever you see them or hear them mentioned, and a severe lack of romantic life. You can't even afford a pet, save a flobberworm, and your life's company is thus reduced to that horrendous Ms. Manning and stacks of paperwork so high they could probably kill a small dog. Greaaaaat job living, George. You've done wonders for yourself.
Dropping his head on the table with a loud, unhappy groan, he ignored the looks from the other patrons, allowing the air to slowly leak out of him and making it sound like he was a very large, deflating duck. "Really, the best thing going in my life is this cup of coffee," he moaned, sitting back up a bit to gaze forlornly at his mug. "And it's not even good coffee - it's just cheap."
Really, it just felt like he wasn't even supposed to be here. He found himself eavesdropping more and more on the Aurors (he tried the Unspeakables once, but he quickly learned they don't say a whole lot outside of their own territory) and finding the stories he heard in the news increasingly interesting. Really, he mused, he had been sticking to this way of life for over twenty years now, and what did it get him? A fat lot of nothing, that's what. Just the rich fat cats getting fatter - though, he noticed, this Order was giving them a run for their money. His boss was dead, as was the former Chief of Aurors, though granted they had died for different reasons. Two men had broken out of Azkaban. Azkaban.
It was looking increasingly dangerous to be one of the head honchos around here, but at the same time he was failing to see the appeal behind the job. This world order, whatever it was, was boring the hell out of him, and the more paperwork he read on the subject - the Jericho reports had admittedly given him nightmares for a few nights - the less he liked it. Being a fugitive, however un-fun it was (and he knew that being in Azkaban was definitely not meant to be fun), seemed to have a different feel to it. It had meaning behind it. They actually had a cause larger than themselves.
"Merlin, just listen to yourself," George muttered, resting his head back on the table and covering it with his arms. "You sound like a complete nutcase. Next you'll be changing your last name."