Who: Oliver, Percy, & Penny.
What: A sexy party! The Ministry kidlets are having a joint pseudo-midlife crisis; they take it out on Oliver.
Where: Oliver's flat in London.
When: Monday, 30th June.
Rating: TBD. PG-13ish, maybe?
Status: Being threaded.


Percy hated this, he really did, and, no, there were not any better words for his sentiments on the matter. Regardless of anything he'd learned as a kid about attempting to avoid hatred as much as possible, he'd never really managed to avoid it. There were a lot of things that Percy Ignatius Weasley hated. He hated being upstaged, he hated being forgotten, he hated suffering through other people's idiocy when they should have known better, he hated people being more selfish than he was, he hated his father's habitual favorites-playing, he hated his father's insistence on staying in a ridiculously low-paying job when he had a family of nine to look after, he hated sharing his things or his space, he hated being reminded that Ginny and Ron were no longer seven, he hated it when the Ministry lunchroom failed to get his lunch order right, which they invariably did... the list went on for quite some time.

But, with the Ministry's new initiative -- the 'Scarlet Letter initiative,' or so Percy had dubbed it between himself and Jeremiah Smith's personal assistant (a sharp-witted girl who, like Percy, loved Muggle books and belonged doing something better than filing paperwork and getting coffee for the uptight, power-abusing tosser she worked for) -- Percy had found something that he hated more passionately than he remembered hating anything: being wrong. True, he'd rather known about his hatred of being wrong for a good, long while -- he hated not being perfect, after all, and being wrong was a form of imperfection -- but he had never expected to be so violently wrong about the Ministry. It had been bad enough that he had blindly followed them after learning that they'd been covering up the Dark Lord's rebirth and known that he'd been wrong in proclaiming them to be right... but at least then he'd had Minister Scrimgeour to rely on. While not as dear to Percy as Mister Crouch had been, Scrimgeour had still been someone worth putting his faith in: he'd been strong, he'd been upstanding, he'd done The Right Thing.

And, in all honesty, Percy wanted either him or Mister Crouch back this very instant, even if working for Mister Crouch again held less power than his present position. Of course he'd joined the Ministry hoping to, one day, become Minister for Magic, but he hadn't only wanted power; he'd entertained some romantic, childish notions of working for the greater good. ...But there was no way in which this nonsense was at all justifiable as being "for the greater good." It was giving Percy a headache and several different kinds of fit, but Oliver would help with that; Oliver always helped with that. And Percy needed help when he showed up at Oliver's flat on Monday evening. As soon as he got off work, Percy left the Ministry and Apparated to Oliver's flat, hoping that Penny didn't need him to direct her there.

"Oliver!" Percy called out when Oliver didn't make himself readily evident. "I've just come from work! I... I hope you don't mind." Percy didn't think he would, though, and, as such, made himself at home on Oliver's sofa, wondering when Oliver and the brigade of puppies would come to greet him.