Percy sat at his desk, head in his hands. He was ostensibly thinking about how to phrase a policy but his mind wouldn't stay focused, preferring instead to bombard him with memories and worries that had nothing to do with rebuilding the Ministry. A knock at his office door roused him from his reverie, and he looked up as his visitor decided to enter without waiting for his invitation.
"Mr. Weasley," the young woman said. "I've been sent over to assist you."
She was dressed in impeccably professional robes; in fact, everything about her looked professional, from the slim quill tucked into her neat bun to her respectably shined shoes.
"Are you all right, Mr. Weasley?"
Percy realized he'd been staring -- and on top of that, he'd forgotten to take his hands down from their head-supporting position. He snapped his hands onto his desk and looked impassively at his intruder. "I'm fine, fine. What can I do for you?"
"I believe the pertinent question is what I can do for you," she replied calmly with a pointed look at his overflowing inbox and sparse outbox.
"I really don't need you!" Percy snapped, taking umbrage at her implication that he wasn't capable of doing his own work.
She smiled implacably. "Mr. Shacklebolt insists."
Oh dear. If the Minister had noticed, his productivity must be noticeably decreasing. Percy masked his dismay by looking the young woman over once more and saying dismissively, "And he sent you?"
"Why not?" she responded, still calm. "I've got more experience than the rest of the interns running around here. I clerked for my aunt for an entire summer. Would've the next if she hadn't been murdered."
Percy didn't let his jaw drop, but his eyes were probably comically wide -- The glasses will disguise it, he assured himself -- as she raised an eyebrow and sat down in a nearby chair.
"My name's Susan Bones, by the way. What would you like me to do first?"
*
The first thing Percy thought of was tea. She obliged, but upon her return with cups for both of them informed him that she was authorized to draft memos to the Magical Law Enforcement Department as well as anything internal to his office, if he cared to make use of that information.
"I'm also fairly competent at filing," she added.
"Oh good," Percy replied. "I hate filing." He gestured to another pile of papers across the office he'd successfully been ignoring for months now. "I should say, I often find filing to be low on my priority list. And since most of my staff has been reassigned in the past year, I'm afraid my time to keep on top of it has been in short supply."
"Understood," Miss Bones said, making herself comfortable in front of his filing cabinet.
Percy watched her out of the corner of his eye for a few minutes, but it seemed she had caught on to his system and already had her wand out, ready to sort. She did her work quietly and efficiently, and Percy tried to follow suit. But it wasn't long before he felt another headache coming on.
His head prickled and pounded and he wanted nothing more than to lie down, but lying down brought dreams. Percy decided he was done with dreams.
"Mr. Shacklebolt said that you don't have any staff because you were running things quite effectively all by yourself." Miss Bones' voice jarred him unpleasantly. "And the fewer staff you had, the less you had to worry about Thicknesse catching you doing good."
"Everyone did what they could," Percy said stiffly. "And I wouldn't say that I was running things."
"You're certainly not running anything now. You are days behind in your paperwork."
There was nothing overtly critical in her tone of voice, but -- perhaps because she was speaking at all on top of his raging headache -- Percy lost his temper. "Thank you for your observation," he bit out. "I'd appreciate it if you could find something to do outside my office now."
Miss Bones stood, surprised, but upon reading the expression on his face simply nodded quickly and left.
Percy took a deep breath, then another. He had acted badly. If Miss Bones returned he would need to apologize. He liked to think he was getting better at apologies.
*
Miss Bones returned before he'd quite finished inspecting her work. He stood hurriedly and smoothed his robes, but his planned speech stuck in his throat as he stared at what she held.
"Is that -- ?" he began, before he could stop himself.
"I picked up this bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion from my dad. He's a potioneer, and he made a batch yesterday. They'll be shipped out to stores soon." She held it out to Percy, who refused to take it. She shrugged and set it on his desk. Percy looked decisively away from the bottle and found himself caught in Miss Bones' gaze. There was something different about her from earlier; after a moment of staring he realized she'd taken down her hair, and now wore it in a long plait down her back. It softened her professional appearance and made her look younger. He wondered why the Minister had sent her to him. Then he noticed she was speaking.
"This helps," she was saying, looking steadily at him. "But it doesn't solve everything."
Percy couldn't believe her insolence. "Why should -- I don't need to solve anyth -- you call this assisting?" he spluttered.
"Well. Yes." She clearly didn't enjoy being shouted at. If Percy wasn't so angry he might have felt bad about the tears that sprang into her eyes, or even impressed that she was standing firm in the face of his temper -- lost again in a matter of minutes -- but this anger felt so good, so refreshing. He didn't want to stop feeling angry.
"Well I don't!" he yelled. "I call it meddling and not even remotely helpful and -- and you're fired!"
It felt immensely satisfying to stomp to his office door and hold it open for her with a sarcastic bow. Miss Bones lifted her chin defiantly but swept out with relative grace. Percy resisted the urge to slam the door on her braid. Who wore braids anymore anyway?
Only after he closed the door did he realize his mistake; she'd left him alone with the potion.
Dreamless Sleep potions were in exceedingly short supply these days, with a number of wizards suffering from nightmares. As one might imagine, the black market was having a field day with the demand, but Percy could see that what Miss Bones had left him was a legitimate version. And he wanted to take it. He wanted to sleep without dreams, just for a while, so he wouldn't have to see his mother battle a Death Eater, see Thicknesse sprout spines, see his brother fall over and over.
But Percy knew he didn't have it nearly as bad as George, and it wouldn't feel right to take this away from him, if he needed it. Besides, Percy told himself, straightening his spine and adjusting his glasses, he was used to working on little sleep. He'd worked through the night more times than he could count. Miss Bones didn't know anything. I'm fine.
And to prove it, he attacked his inbox with vehemence. (And also accidentally set an incoming memo on fire, but not only was he able to salvage the important information, he even followed up on it immediately.)
*
Percy realized he'd fallen asleep at his desk at approximately the same moment he noticed the morning light shining through his office window: a few seconds after a knock at his door.
He hadn't even taken the potion. He'd dreamed about goblins, which would be a nice change if he hadn't been frightened of goblins his whole life. (Not a rational fear, nor a helpful one for a high-ranking Ministry official. One couldn't control everything.)
As if to illustrate the point, in walked Miss Bones again, this time bearing scones with the tea.
"I've spoken to Mr Shacklebolt," she said before Percy had even formulated a thought. "He says I am to continue to assist you. So you'll need to take up any additional concerns with him."
She set down the breakfast within reach, glanced with eyebrows raised at the untouched potion, then settled down to continue filing as if nothing had happened.
"Thank you," Percy said, which caused her to look up in mild surprise. "For the breakfast," he qualified. He really was hungry. "Also for the potion," he added. "Even though I can't in good conscience use it. May I give it to my brother?"
She shrugged. "I really think you should use it for yourself, but it's yours now. I suggest following the recommended dosage."
He wanted to be annoyed at her, but he was so tired. Why was he so weary? He'd just slept for many more hours in a row than he'd gotten in days. But he couldn't summon the energy to snap at her. He could barely summon the energy to eat his breakfast.
Miss Bones filed on, apparently unperturbed.