InsaneJournal

Who: Vicky Frobisher & Percy Weasley
What: Vicky comes to talk to Percy after this
Where: Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes
When: Wednesday, April 8, 1998
Rating: Low. But… Vicky & Percy aren’t super cute in this one. (At least, not until the end.)
Status: Log. Complete.

Vicky walked slowly on her way to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. She had known from conversations with the twins that Percy didn’t really fit in with the rest of his family, but knowing it and seeing him write that in the journals were vastly different things. He couldn’t really believe that the wizarding world looked down on the Weasleys, could he? Sure, maybe the purist snobs who thought they were better than everyone else, but they looked down on everybody, not just the Weasleys.

If Percy really felt that way about his family… Vicky didn’t know what she would do.

She hadn’t decided by the time she got to the shop, but there was no point in delaying. Percy knew she was coming, and she needed to figure this out. Fortunately, when she got inside, there were no customers demanding his attention, so she was able to just walk right up to him and look him straight in the eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

The smile Percy had upon his face upon seeing Vicky enter the shop was immediately wiped away by her comment. He was standing behind the cash register when she shocked hit, and Percy was confused, especially because Vicky looked as though she meant what she had said.. “Wha…? What are you going on about?”

“This.” Vicky brandished her journal in Percy’s face. “Is this really what you think about your family? Do you really not see how many friends your family has? Or how many people love your brothers’ shop or respect your parents?” She slammed the journal on the counter. “I thought you were working with Thorfinn Rowle because you were passionate about politics and the things you’d be able to do as a ministry employee and because it’s what you enjoy, not because your family and what you’re doing isn’t good enough.”

It took a moment for Percy to recover from Vicky’s chastisement, but when he did, he frowned and spoke to her in a lower tone of voice. “This is not the place to have this sort of discussion,” he scolded her. Fortunately, none of the customers that were browsing the aisles had heard, or, Merlin forbid the Twins were around. Fred and George had both stepped out of the shop, and to get into this topic with them would be the last thing Percy wanted to do. “We can talk about this later. In private.”

“No.” Vicky put both hands flat on the counter and leaned in to Percy’s space. “We’re talking about this now.”

Percy responded just as firmly, meeting her square in the eyes. “And I say not now. It’s not appropriate workplace behavior. How would you like it if I came to the Wizarding Wireless and started making a fuss. It’s a moot point, because I never would. Why? Because it’s not appropriate. We can discuss this later.”

"Why do you care? I thought you were destined for better things than this. Isn't that what you said? That working in a shop around Nosebleed Nougats was fine for your brothers, but it wasn't good enough for you?" She shoved a package of the offending item across the counter at him. "Is it what the shop sells that makes it not good enough, or the fact that it's a shop?"

She didn't wait for an answer, just flipped open her journal and grabbed a quill from the counter. "But fine, you don't want to do this here? We'll go somewhere else. I'll ward Fred and George and get one of them to come watch the shop."

Percy was increasingly becoming more irritated by Vicky’s behavior with every passing moment. He’d grown quite fond of Vicky over the past couple of months since they’d begun dating, and he thought she understood him. Now, it seemed, that she was just like the rest of them. Quick to assume, quick to judge. Shoving the nougats at him rather pushed him over the edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a customer glancing over, pretending not to be curious about what was happening, which made Percy even more upset.

He plucked the quill from out of Vicky’s hand and forcibly shut the journal on her.. “Stop causing a scene!” he hissed, trying to keep both his voice and temper low. “Go into the break room and pour yourself a cup of tea to cool down. I’ll write Fred and George and then I’ll join you as soon as I hear back from them.” It was better for him to do the writing, because heaven knows how Vicky would phrase things in her current state.

An icy calm overtook Vicky. She’d been angry before, insulted on behalf of both her parents and Percy’s family, but now she was furious. No one got to talk to her that way. She leaned in close and lowered her voice. “Do not ever talk to me like that again, Percy.”

Percy honestly didn’t understand what he’d done to justify this sort of reaction and was quite surprised. After all, she was the one coming in and making the scene in front of the customers; all he wanted her to do was stop. But he really should’ve known. Vicky was friends with the Twins before she met him and started dating. Of course she would have the same way of thinking. It was only a matter of time before they butted heads, as Percy always did with his brothers. He met and kept her gaze, unweildingly, but was now exasperated. In desperation, he begged her with a single word, “Please.”

"Please what? Go in the back and make a cup of tea like a good girl? Stop being hysterical?" She hadn't raised her voice yet--despite Percy's concerns she didn't actually want an audience for this--but he had basically told her she was being a hysterical little girl and needed to go in the kitchen and calm down. She wasn't going to put up with that. And I'd Percy really thought that she should, or that working in a shop was beneath him, well. She supposed it was better to find out now, before she said something she couldn't take back.

Frustrated, Percy threw up his hands and asked, “Is anything I say right now going to make a difference?”

Vicky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know. Ward your brothers so we can go somewhere and actually talk. Then I guess we'll see." She wasn't going to make a cup of tea in the back, though. Instead, she picked up her journal and went over to the pygmy puff display. The little animals chirped happily at her, and she let one nibble harmlessly at her fingers as she waited.

It was a relief that Vicky had decided not to make the situation any worse. Percy watched as she stepped away before writing to Fred and George in his journal, asking if one or the other could come watch the shop because there was a bit of an emergency - he would explain later. Fortunately, George was right upstairs and said he’d come down.

Percy approached Vicky cautiously, and asked, “George is taking care of the shop, so I’m completely free. Where do you want to go?”

“The back is fine, unless Verity is back there,” Vicky said stiffly as she turned away from the pygmy puffs. The wait had given her a chance to cool down a little, but she was still upset with Percy. Tea might be nice, if they could talk over it instead of use it as a way to calm her down. “We can have tea and sit.”

“It’s Verity’s day off,” Percy explained. “Otherwise I would’ve asked her to come.” That probably would’ve been easier than to ask George to take over his shift. Less messy. Although, at this point, Percy reckoned that questions were going to be asked irregardless of how private he wanted it to be.

In the breakroom, Percy shut the door behind them and immediately sat down at the table, crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest, unconsciously preparing to shield himself from Vicky’s anger as well as closing himself off. “Now, could you please tell me what’s the matter?”

Vicky shook her head as she sat opposite him. "You really don't know, do you?" She had thought she understood Percy, but the things he'd written in the journals didn't jive with the man she enjoyed spending time with. "Do you honestly believe that someone with a ministry job is better than someone who works in a shop?"

Percy’s frown deepened. “Where in Merlin’s name did you get that idea?” he asked, pointedly.

“You said you felt you were destined for better things,” Vicky said, tapping a finger on her journal. “Did you even read what you wrote in here? The things you said about your family?” She sighed and slumped in her chair, more disappointed than angry anymore. She’d come here intending to just talk to Percy, to figure out why he’d written those things about his family, but his insinuation about shops had pushed her over the edge and things had spiraled out of control.

“Maybe it’s not what you meant, Percy, but what you wrote? It reads like you think your family isn’t good enough. Like you think working in a shop isn’t good enough. Like... “ She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Like if you get a job in the ministry you’ll be better than your brothers somehow.”

If Vicky was disappointed, the Percy was irritated. “So you came in here like a bludger, believing the worst of me. Typical. Bloody typical. Making assumptions and accusations. And now you’re doing it, as well Why shouldn’t I feel as though I deserve better than stocking shelves and working a cash register? I have years of experience at the Ministry as a secretary, I’m not going to let that go. Fred and George have helped me by giving me this job so I don’t end up a debtor, and I’m making the most of it. It’s my nature to put my whole effort into my job, which is why I am keen to keep the place tidy, the shelves stocked and their Pygmy Puff export, launched. But it’s not like I want to do this forever. I’m hoping that by working at this campaign, I can secure a better paying position, but I’m also sending out CVs, as well as checking up on those I’ve already submitted.

“I thought you knew me well enough - I’m not into these pranks the same way Fred and George are. Frankly, I think they’re a bit juvenile, but Fred and George have made an admirable business out of creating and selling them. They’ve done a lot, running their own shop, it’s a lot of work, and I admire that of them. The amount of time and energy and creativity they’ve put into this business is brilliant, but it’s just not my cup of tea.

“And this,” he said, stabbing the table in front of him with his index finger, “Is what gets me! That everybody seems to get on my case for being different. Because I don’t like a lot of things as the rest of my family, I’m judged. I’ve had to deal with this all my life. Do I think I’m better than somebody like Verity? No! Working in this environment suits her. Have I ever treated her differently? No! But immediately, I’m condemned.” An anger simmered inside, which Percy fought to subdue, because this wasn’t the time or place for such behavior.

“I never said you should give up on the ministry. And I never said you should want to work here for the rest of your life. I have supported you working on Mr. Rowle’s campaign from the beginning because I know it’s important to you and it’s what you want to do.” Vicky sighed heavily as she tried to figure out the way to explain what was bothering her. She understood wanting to do something different, but not talking about his family the way he did.

“Look, I get wanting to do something different. I get feeling like something else is a better fit for you. I’m not working at The Sweet Bite because it’s not right for me. But what you said in here?” She tapped her journal. “It read like you do think you’re better than someone like Verity. Than someone like your brothers or my parents.Like you have this idea that the higher up you are on some imaginary social ladder determines your actual worth, not just how much money you make.” And even that wasn’t entirely true. Vicky’s parents did quite well with the sweet shop, and she was sure Fred and George would do the same with Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes once they paid off the start up costs.

“And the stuff you said about your family. It’s like all you can see is the fact that your parents struggled to pay for things instead of how much they love you and how hard they worked to get you what you needed. It’s like you see this job as a burden instead of evidence of how much your brothers care about you. They didn’t have to stretch their budget to hire you, Percy.” Vicky put her hand over his. “I don’t fault you for wanting something different, something that fits you. It just seems like you think different means higher class or better for everyone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Percy spoke with deep and bitter sarcasm, “I didn’t realize I was such an odious human being that I needed to qualify every statement I make with constant reassurances of love and affection for my family.” He slipped his hand out from under Vicky’s to firmly cross it over his chest again. “Is that how you see me? Is that what people automatically assume? That I don’t love my family? For the record, Vicky, yes, I love my family. Did I love growing up struggling to make ends meet? Most definitely not. Do I feel like I belong? Sometimes, I’m not so certain. Why, at the Twins’ birthday party, you fit in better than I did! So I want to better myself, financially. So I want to climb the social ladder and be recognized for my achievements. What’s the matter with that? Should I purposely keep myself in a miserable condition to show the world how humble I am? Why is it that people want to think the worst of me? You don’t understand how hard it is for me to feel alienated.”

He looked at Vicky with pain in his eyes. “That you misinterpreted what I wrote, I can understand. These things happen all the time. But that you automatically jumped to negative conclusions and came here angrily, accusing me,.” He reached up to remove his eyeglasses and set them upon the table so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m doing the best I can. What the bloody hell am I doing wrong?”

“Merlin, Percy, do you even understand what that may be well and good for Fred and George, but I feel I'm destined for better things sounds like?” Vicky pulled back when Percy pulled away, wrapping her arms around her chest and ducking her head. “I wasn’t even upset before that, just concerned. Confused. But I grew up in a shop, Percy. How do you think that made me feel?” Her voice cracked on the last few words as she fought back tears.

“And there is nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself financially or be recognized for your achievements. But there is something wrong with being ashamed of where you came from, and that’s what you wrote sounded like.” She stood and hugged her journal to her chest. “I’m sorry for barging in here like that. I had just wanted to talk because it can be easy to misinterpret things in the journals, but then you wrote that and I lost my temper. I--” One word flashed in her mind, but she said another instead. “--really like you, Percy. But that. I just…” She shook her head and started toward the door.

If Percy was being perfectly honest with himself, he did feel a bit ashamed of his family, as well as embarrassed. But he wasn’t focusing on that. Rather, he was far too sensitive over what he perceived as persecution to acknowledge his feelings. At first, he stubbornly remained in his seat, a rigid picture of aggravation; he did not even budge when Vicky withdrew and hung her head. Only when she got up and headed away did Percy realize how upset she was.

“Vicky?” he called from his seat, hoping that she’d stop, but he quickly picked up and put his glasses back on, then rose to come behind her, placing a soft hand upon her shoulder. “You just what?” He asked, tenderly, but also with caution.

“I don’t know.” Vicky turned back to look at Percy, but kept her journal clutched tight to her chest as she looked up at Percy. “I guess I just… didn’t ever expect to see something like that from you.”

Something like what? Percy wondered. Did Vicky still believe he’d done something wrong? Percy certainly didn’t think so. As far as he understood, Vicky simply misinterpreted what he’d written and jumped to conclusions. But he could tell how upset she was by her body language: this was their first fight as a couple, and it was a precarious moment. If this wasn’t mended properly, it could bode ill for their future relationship. Pursing his lips together, Percy met Vicky’s eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he told her, hoping that it would help. “I’ll make a point to be clearer in the future.”

"Thank you." Vicky relaxed a little and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. When she was no longer struggling not to cry, she looked up at Percy with a small smile. "So how much do you think we freaked out George?"

Crisis averted, thank Merlin. Percy worried his brow and looked in the direction of the shop floor. “Probably quite a bit. We ought to go out, together, lest he assume the worst.”

“Yeah.” Vicky laughed nervously, then set her journal down, took Percy’s hand and tugged him toward her. She wasn’t precisely in the mood for romance, but she didn’t want to go out still feeling this off-kilter either, so when he was close enough, she wound her other arm around his neck and pulled him in for a quick kiss. “Let’s not do that again.”

A hug was just what he needed, but he was glad that she made the first move: if Vicky was still upset with him, he didn’t want to impose himself. He returned the kiss, but continued to hold her, for the physical contact felt medicinal.

As much as he wanted to promise Vicky they would never argue again, he realistically knew that it never having another argument would be improbable. But maybe she didn’t mean it literally. Maybe it was just the assurance she needed at the time. “I promise,” he murmured. .

Vicky didn't want to pull away either. She wrapped her arms around Percy's waist, rested her head against his chest, and just breathed. His answer had been exactly what she wanted to hear, even though she knew it was exceedingly unlikely they'd never argue again. They weren't going to be one of those couples who argued all the time.

After a moment, she looked up with a small smile. "I guess we should go let George know we're okay." She didn't really want to let go of Percy yet, but it wasn't fair to George to stay back here.

“We should.” Percy agreed. But he likewise didn’t move. Finally, he said, “I’m in no rush.”

“Me either.” Vicky stayed exactly where she was until not moving started to get uncomfortable. Only then did she slowly pull back from Percy, taking his hand so she wouldn’t have to break the physical contact between them. It wasn’t as soothing as the hug, but just the feel of his palm pressed against hers was a balm on the jagged edges of her emotions.

She kept her grip on Percy’s hand as she picked up her journal, tucked it into her pocket, and squared her shoulders. Hopefully George wouldn’t be too mad. “Okay. Let’s go.”