|Still, where did the lighter fluid come from? (emiime) wrote in percy_ficathon,|
@ 2008-06-28 13:45:00
|Entry tags:||fic, percy/oliver, r, slash|
A gift for trubbleclef!
Title: Strictly Business
Pairing/Characters: Percy/Oliver, Draco/Zacharias, Kingsley
Word Count: 5000~
Warnings: Post-war, AU.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for a spot of fun.
Summary: Percy finds himself on the receiving end of some rather suggestive messages, and just when an old friend re-enters his life, too.
Notes: Hope you enjoy this, trubbleclef! Thanks to my wonderful beta, L. Any mistakes are my own.
Percy stared down at the scrap of parchment that nose-dived and unfolded on top of his hand. It had to be someone's idea of a joke.
I want to snog you rotten, it read in plain black ink and a nondescript hand.
A small fire burned in his cheeks. If it wasn't someone trying to poke fun, which it very likely was, it must have been delivered to the wrong person. Yes, a simple case of misdelivery. A charm could be miscast from time to time. He would simply crumple it up, toss it into the rubbish bin, and sensibly forget about it like any sensible person would do because to think it was serious would be nonsensical.
Percy's body moved before his mind did in a blind panic. He shuffled his correspondence, the note with it, before it could be spotted and questioned and his whole career was compromised. The Minister of Magic stepped in a beat after.
"Yes, Minister Shacklebolt?" Percy almost, but thankfully didn't, squeak.
If the Minister was about to tell him something pertaining to work, he seemed to have set it aside to look him over. Dark eyes studied him with something akin to concern. It unnerved Percy.
"Are you all right, Mr. Weasley? You look feverish. You're recommended to turn in early if you're unwell."
"I'm fine, really, I am," Percy said quickly, contriving to look sincere and healthy. "It's just.. ah, a little warm in here. That's all. I'll be fine in no time." He fanned himself with a memo for emphasis.
If Percy didn't know better, and he had known the Minister for quite some time, he did not look nor sound convinced. His tone transitioned back to Minister from a vague, would-be friend. It was more comfortable that way. Ministry business was known ground to Percy.
"Excuse me, sir, but I doubt you came to inquire after my health."
Percy, too, went back to business. It was safe territory. Much safer than the fluttering in his stomach that started for reasons he did not care to look into yet. "Was there something else..?"
"Yes, I have come to let you know that we're going to dinner Saturday evening. Dress formally."
"I- I beg your pardon?" Percy stammered, gob-smacked.
Shacklebolt's eyebrows rose. "Dinner," he repeated slowly and precisely, dark eyes warming with something that looked like amusement. "Mr. Kasakova from Bulgaria will be joining us. He is coming to re-negotiate terms for international cauldron regulations. I've come to understand this is a topic you are exceptionally knowledgeable in."
"Oh." Percy felt seven kinds of stupid and his face was three different shades of red. "I'm sorry, I thought - well, it doesn't matter what I thought. What time and where, sir?"
A fine eyebrow arched expressively, but no questions were asked by Shacklebolt. "Our reservation for the El Greco is at seven."
"The El Greco?"
"Isn't it just El Greco?"
"No, it's The El Greco. Redundant, I know." Shacklebolt smiled as if to say he understood. "The owner has a.." There was a delicate pause, "peculiar sense of humour."
"So I take it."
"Don't work yourself sick, Weasley. I need you Saturday."
After the Minister left, Percy sunk in his chair as low as he possibly could without slipping off.
Percy found the slip of parchment, crumbled it up, and tossed it into the rubbish tin like a sensible person should have done five minutes ago. It burped happily. Percy took off his glasses and hid his face in his palms.
He felt sick, but not for the reasons Shacklebolt thought. He didn't know what he had been thinking. Or if he was even thinking at the time. Of course it would be dinner for Ministry matters only.
That's all it was, and that was all it would ever be. Strictly business.
Resolved, Percy pushed his glasses back into place, straightened his shoulders, and resumed his work. He refused to leave early, but that didn't change the fact he had promised to leave work at a decent hour that evening and not stay over-time.
He was becoming a popular dinner-guest these days.