Ficlet: Dinner For Three - Percy and Rita - PG-13

[icarus]

A little ficlet to spread the Percy love, with a warm thank you to hydaspes. This story was really dull (and stuck) until your suggestion this morning that changed everything.

This story is completely HBP compliant, according regulation 471, section 8, dash 12.

Dinner For Three
By Icarus



Percy Weasley edged through the Friday night crowd, bobbing his head slightly to the posh stylings of The Rivertones. He made a mental note: he'd have to buy that Gramophone Charm; everyone was listening to The Rivertones these days. The maitre d' spotted him with a warmly professional smile, and snapped up a pair of dragon-hide menus under his arm.

"Mr Weasley – table for two?"

Percy nodded absently, struggling with the man's name before he gave it up. Underlings weren't important, but it made a good impression if you could remember their names; people would assume you were aware of every detail under your purview. It was one of the mistakes Crouch had made that had led to his downfall, politically speaking.

"Your party is waiting for you. Right this way."

Weatherby, Percy thought and wrinkled his nose. The name still rankled.

Rita was already seated, her palm coiled around her signature Dragonsbane whisky, fingernail tapping the glass impatiently. She had replaced her battered jeweled glasses with a new pair, Percy noted with dislike, and wore a short jacket in an absolutely shocking shade of magenta that clashed with the décor. Percy shook his head inwardly. She had the most appalling taste.

"Rita, darling, how are you?" He leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"You are twenty minutes late, lovey, I was beginning to think you– oh, is that a new aftershave?" she interrupted herself.

"You are as discerning as ever. It's Savoir Faire," Percy smiled as he settled into the seat across from her.

She raised her painted eyebrows. "My, my, we are coming up in the world, aren't we?" Her look turned calculating. He'd hear no more complaints about being late today. "Yet somehow, I'll always remember the charming young wizard who dropped the Minister's quill in front of the entire International Confederation of Wizards." She smirked.

Percy flushed but laughed hollowly, quietly hating her. "Oh yes, that was an embarrassing moment, wasn't it? Of course, Fudge is long gone these days."

He saw her twitch with hope, eager to hear the inside story. Percy merely glanced at his menu instead, a small, almost innocent revenge. He ignored the water by his elbow although he was quite thirsty; successful wizards never, ever drank the water. He'd noticed that on his own.

"Have you heard the specials?" Percy changed the subject, noting her disappointment. "I had their poached toadstools yesterday, they're excellent."

And another little dig, with a reminder of his current status and expense account, and that he was a regular customer. Certainly Rita couldn't afford it.

Rita held up her menu and it disapparated. She leaned forward on her elbows, her chin poised on laced fingertips. "You choose something for me," she purred.

Much better. Now she was behaving herself. Even if she did challenge him to prove that he knew the menu. Well, he could do that. He disapparated his own menu, grinned at her in a manner that he hoped was rakish (he'd practiced in the mirror)… then spoke to the table and ordered for both of them. From memory.

Yes, one eyebrow raised meant Rita was genuinely impressed. Did she really think he would lie?

She kept it to small talk during the meal, as she knew he preferred. He'd learned that it was a way to emphasize the importance of what one said. In the old days he used to leap on the silence as if he'd never a chance to speak. He'd since learned to take his time, something he supposed he owed that bumbler, Fudge. Plus, Rita's chatter was revealing. Most of what she knew could never be printed in a family newspaper and Percy couldn't help but laugh into his roasted crup. She ordered Percy a refill on his wine, and he pretended to take a sip. He had to stay on his toes with her.

She was diving into a fourteen layer German Forest cake like a dragon as Percy toyed with the stem of his wineglass. The woman certainly could eat.

"So," Rita smirked. "How's Darberry?"

Percy schooled his face to a careful surprised blink. He hoped it looked puzzled, though based on her rapacious expression he doubted it. "I'm sorry… whom?"

She licked a bit of chocolate off the corner of her mouth. "The pretty brunette."

"I'm sorry, my girlfriend Lucretia happens to be blonde," Percy said with carefully practiced amusement, honed from many lunches with Lucius Malfoy – may he rot forever in Azkeban. Damn the woman's curiosity.

"In the front hall of the Ministry this morning? Edwin Darberry I believe he's called. You two seemed to be… getting along."

Percy's mind scrabbled for what she might have seen while he said, "This morning… this morning… Oh, yes, the coffee shop boy! Is that his name? Darberry?"

In truth, Percy didn't know his full name. He never did. It was easier that way.

She must have heard the genuine note of surprise in his voice, because she frowned a little. "Are you certain you don't have more to tell me?"

A warm feeling overtook Percy, almost a euphoria that made him wonder briefly about the wine, but he felt so peaceful the question disappeared like a soap bubble. "Scrimgeour is reorganising the Aurors," he said in a strangely flat tone, "redirecting their tactics from the hunt for Snape to an attempt to locate the Dark Lord's whereabouts. This is dangerous."

Rita had her quill out and was scratching away eagerly. "And the story? The deep background?"

"The Aurors don't like the Minister intervening and this will be seen as a power grab once it's known."

"Is it?" Rita looked up, her eyes sharp. "A power grab?"

"Everything is about power," Percy said. "But the Aurors will fight it. They must continue their search for Snape."

"Yes, yes," Rita's curls bobbed, "the 'Slayer of Dumbledore!' that can't be ignored. The Minister's personal agenda can't stand in the way of justice – it's perfect!" Her quill took notes at a frantic pace. "My readership is incensed about his death. They will be up in arms!"

She dotted an 'I' heavily, nearly breaking through the page.

"So…" she prodded with a sly smile. "Tell me. What is the Minister's actual agenda?"

"We shall discuss that next week."

Rita looked somewhat disappointed, if resigned.

Then Percy blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. What had they been talking about? He was getting absent-minded these days. Oh yes….

"I'm afraid I have no idea who that young man is."

He hoped that answered whatever it was she'd said. She was always pestering him about his private life! He had no idea why he kept meeting her and concluded that, good relations with the press or no, he was far too important now to be wasting time with the likes of her.

Rita gave him a slow mischievous smile as she tucked away a notebook in her alligator bag. As she stood to leave, she reached over and patted his cheek.

"You never do, darling, you never do."

Comments

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Well done, yes, you're dead on about the title. ;) (And thank you.)

Icarus