Title: Playing Holidays
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the HP series. I only own Bailey.
Notes: Just a short bad holiday piece typed up in a half hour on Christmas Eve.
Spoilers: OotPIf all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work.
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "King Henry IV Part I", Act 1 scene 2
”Christmas is a holiday that persecutes the lonely, the frayed, and the rejected.”
You know it’s Christmas time when Bailey came in muttering about “those damn
holiday movies”, thought Percy with a small smirk. Said woman had stomped in a half-hour ago, wearing jeans and short sleeved shirt. In this weather. He shook his head and returned to the mountain of paperwork awaiting him.
“Hey, Perce,” greeted Bailey as she made her way back out of the tangle that was the Administrative Department of the Ministry, clutching her case folders for the day. She worked in Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as a cross lawyer/social worker, down on the second floor, but got her orders directly from the main offices. “Tomorrow’s Christmas, you know.”
Percy turned the page of the report he was on and concentrated on reading the weekly report from the Games & Sports department. “Yes, I know that.”
“And you do know that your father is in St. Mungo’s.” A statement, not a question. Percy’s hand clenched the papers tightly. How could he not know, with everyone in the Ministry seeing fit to inform him.
“Yes, I know
“Alright,” she said. “Well, happy Christmas, in any case.” With that she walked off, ducking the usual storm of paper airplanes that liked to hang around the lifts. Percy stared down at the papers. As in last week’s report, we still have not yet apprehended the scoundrel who made off with the promotional giveaway Falcons posters…
He blinked, and wondered if they really thought anyone cared about the Falcons. Could say the same about cauldron bottom thickness, you know…
He frowned. Right. And who exactly asked you?
He ceased his self arguing and returned to the report.
Hours later, at the time when most employees of the Ministry of Magic were leaving to go home to their family and friends, Percy was sitting as his desk, searching desperately through the drawers for something to do. No such luck. He sighed and stood, reorganizing his desk before grabbing his cloak and making his way out.
In the flood of workers and holiday spirit, no one noticed Percy Weasley, he-who-stayed-until-midnight, leaving at five. Everyone was laughing, exchanging greetings and gifts next to the fireplaces in the Atrium, so Percy just sidestepped the crowds and exited the underground building through the street entrance.
Stepping into the dank street was even more depressing than his empty flat, but it was less lonely out in the bustling London streets. So on Christmas Eve, Percy Weasley wandered through the streets bedecked in holiday splendor, and ignored the guilt eating away at his gut.
It only took a couple smiling children with their fathers to completely disintegrate Percy’s determination to stay away from St. Mungo’s, and he was headed there within the hour.
He almost turned back when he got to the redbrick department store, but continued on through the window, a different determination filling him. He studied the floor guide in the lobby, staying out of the way of any who might recognize him. Let’s see… First Floor: Creature-Induced Injuries, that looks about right.
And now Dangerous Dai Llewellyn Ward. He peered in the window and assessed the situation. A sleeping witch, his father, also asleep, and another wizard, who was still awake. Oh well, this was as a good a chance as he was going to get. He pushed the door open quietly and sneaked into the room. The wizard looked at him but didn’t say anything, settling for sulking where he was as Percy slid across the floor to his father’s bed. That close up, the sleeping man looked almost dead, Percy thought involuntarily.Well, best get this over with,
he decided. He pulled a card out of his robes and set it amongst a bunch of others on the bedside table. “H-happy Christmas, Dad.” And he turned and left, back to his lonely flat.
Arthur Weasley cracked an eyelid and smiled after his son.