Between Headlines and Hearts

The next evening found Hermione in her flat, pacing in front of the fireplace, her mind racing with thoughts of how to make this ludicrous situation seem remotely plausible. Her flat, usually a sanctuary of order and quiet, now felt as chaotic as her mind. A stack of notes sat on her coffee table—scribbled ideas and hastily written-out scenarios—all leading to the same conclusion: they were in way over their heads.

A knock at the door startled her, and she froze, staring at it for a moment before shaking her head. Of course, it would be Percy. Who else would it be at this point? With a resigned sigh, she opened the door to find him standing there, ever the picture of composure, his familiar sharp blue eyes hidden behind his glasses. He wore a crisp dark blue shirt and black trousers, the type of attire that never failed to make her feel like she was slouching in comparison, even when she was perfectly put together.

"Good evening," Percy said, his voice crisp and composed as ever, though Hermione couldn’t help but notice the faint gleam in his eyes. It was as if, like her, he’d come to terms with the absurdity of the situation they found themselves in. A situation that had, through no fault of their own, blossomed into a full-fledged media circus. They were, officially, the Ministry’s newest ‘power couple’—and they weren’t even dating.

"Come in," Hermione said with a heavy sigh, stepping aside and allowing him into the flat. "We might as well get this over with."

He entered, his long, precise strides bringing him into her living room, and he took a quick look around. His gaze flickered to the pile of notes scattered across the coffee table, filled with scribbles and half-formed ideas, and then to her. He raised an eyebrow, a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I see you’ve already started without me," he remarked dryly, settling into the armchair by the fireplace with his usual impeccable posture. He was the picture of composure, but Hermione noticed the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes, and for the first time in days, she found herself almost glad for his company.

"Some of us are trying to make sense of this mess," Hermione muttered, her voice tinged with frustration. She perched herself on the edge of the sofa, looking at him. "So, where do we even begin?"

Percy’s expression shifted into something more thoughtful, as though he was mentally organizing his approach. "We need to solidify the basics first. The timeline. How long have we been engaged?"

Hermione let out an exasperated breath, brushing a hand through her hair. "We agreed on a month. But I still don’t know if I can make this sound... believable." She stared at her notes, the squiggly lines of her thoughts nothing more than jumbled fragments. How could they possibly convince anyone they’d been in a relationship for a month when neither of them had even entertained the idea before the mistaken rumor?

"True," Percy replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft, as if he was speaking to her as an equal and not as a colleague. "We need to make it seem natural. For example, we can’t have suddenly been madly in love after knowing each other for years. It’s got to feel... gradual."

Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, considering this. He was right. If they just pretended they had always been in love, it would feel too forced. They needed a backstory that was gradual, one that wouldn’t make anyone suspicious.

"Gradual, right," she murmured, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against the armrest. "So, we start as close colleagues who, over time, realize we make sense together? No sudden declarations of love, just… two people who naturally fall into each other’s lives."

Percy nodded, his hands folding neatly on his lap as he spoke with precision. "Precisely. The first step is making it feel real. We begin with small moments. Perhaps I ask for your help on a case, something minor at first, and we end up spending late hours working together in the office. A few quiet dinners after long days, nothing too extravagant, just two people who enjoy the other's company and are simply... practical."

Hermione smiled, the image forming in her mind clearer now. "I can see that. And we don't need anything too romantic, but we could mention moments of... intimacy. Like when I noticed you were looking tired and I made sure to send you a bit of extra tea in the office."

Percy’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. "That’s good. I’ll add a few moments where I did the same. I noticed you were tense during meetings, and I made sure you were comfortable without drawing too much attention to it."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You? Subtle?" she teased.

Percy gave her a look that was almost amused, though it held an edge of pride. "I’m nothing if not efficient," he said with a touch of smugness, adjusting his glasses for emphasis.

Hermione shook her head but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto her face. There was something endearing about this side of Percy. She had always thought of him as rigid, the ever-diligent bureaucrat who had no time for small talk, but here he was—helping her concoct a lie, one that required the same level of precision and strategy that he would apply to a legal brief. It almost felt... comfortable.

"Alright," she said, returning to the notes. "So, we start small. A few quiet gestures, nothing too overt, and then—"

"—then we move to a point where it feels like a natural progression," Percy cut in, his voice steady as ever. "Perhaps we begin to lean on each other more. Maybe I ask you to help me with a difficult project, and we start spending more time together outside of work. It should feel gradual, like a friendship turning into something deeper without us even realizing it at first."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, that works. We’ll keep it understated. And by the time we finally admit our feelings, it’ll feel earned, not rushed."

Percy tilted his head slightly, contemplating her suggestion. "Exactly. There can be moments where we start to notice little things about each other that we didn’t before. Your cleverness, your dedication to the work, the way you always notice when people need help. And I think I might start noticing things too—like the way you always make sure people feel heard, the way you stand up for what’s right."

"Alright, alright," Hermione teased. "You’re making me sound like I’m some sort of hero."

"I’m just stating the facts," Percy said innocently, though the slight smirk on his face suggested otherwise. "Now, when the moment comes for the proposal... it can’t be too dramatic. It needs to feel organic. Maybe after a particularly difficult case, we’ve been working together for weeks, and we just... realize that no one else understands us the way we do. There’s no grand gesture, just a quiet moment of understanding and recognition."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "In my office?"

"Why not?" Percy replied, almost as if he had already considered it. "We’ve spent so much time there already. It’s where we’re most comfortable, where we’ve shared so many of our late-night debates. It makes sense, don’t you think?"

Hermione hesitated, but then nodded slowly, the idea starting to take root. "It’s certainly plausible. We’ve spent countless hours working side by side in my office. And I suppose the absence of any big romantic spectacle makes it feel more real, more genuine."

"Exactly," Percy said with satisfaction. "Nothing forced, just... natural."

Hermione let out a long breath, leaning back into the couch. "Alright, Percy. I think we’ve got a solid framework here." She glanced over the notes they’d written so far—sketches of a believable, albeit fictional, engagement story—and felt, for the first time, that they might actually pull this off.

Finally, when the clock struck late, its ticking seeming louder in the otherwise quiet room, and they had exhausted every angle of their cover story, Hermione leaned back, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion. She hadn’t realized just how much tension had been building up in her until the weight seemed to lift all at once. The evening had been a whirlwind of brainstorming, debating, and fine-tuning every small detail of the plan. They had spent hours on it, tweaking the narrative to perfection, ensuring that nothing seemed out of place or too forced.

"Okay," she murmured, glancing at the scattered notes on the coffee table, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her mug. "I think we’ve got everything." Her voice was a little softer now, the adrenaline of their strategic planning ebbing away. "Now all we need to do is stick to it. Make it feel... real." She allowed herself a small, relieved sigh, almost feeling like she could finally breathe for the first time that evening.

Percy, ever the picture of composure, gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile, the corners of his lips twitching just slightly. His posture was immaculate, still so precise, but there was a flicker of something more behind his usual stoic demeanour. It was a quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of the absurdity of their situation and perhaps, a touch of pride that they had actually managed to create a believable narrative together. "Agreed," he said simply, but his voice held a note of satisfaction. "It’s as airtight as it can be."

But just as Hermione was about to say something, a fluttering sound broke the silence. She turned her head just in time to see a tawny owl swoop down toward the window, its wings cutting through the night air with practiced ease. It landed on the sill with a soft thud, its beady eyes fixed on her with a knowing stare.

"Who could this be?" she muttered, standing up from the couch. Percy looked up at her with curiosity, his brow furrowing slightly as she crossed the room to the window. She opened it just wide enough for the owl to hop through, and it held out its leg, where a thick envelope was attached.

"Thank you," Hermione said absentmindedly, reaching to untie the letter from the owl’s leg. The bird gave a small, satisfied hoot before taking flight again, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

Hermione closed the window and turned the envelope over in her hands. It was sealed with a deep red wax, embossed with the familiar crest of the Weasley family—the intricate "W" that had always made her feel a little at home. She couldn’t help but feel a small flutter of nerves in her stomach as she carefully broke the seal, knowing that a letter from Molly Weasley could only mean one thing: they were about to be thrown into the whirlwind of the Weasley family dynamics, whether they were ready for it or not.

She unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. Percy stood, arms crossed, watching her intently, as if bracing himself for whatever news Molly had sent their way.

"Dear Hermione and Percy," Hermione began, her voice steady at first but faltering slightly as she continued. "We would be delighted if you could join us for Sunday lunch at the Burrow. We’ve been hearing some rumours about you two, and I thought it would be lovely to catch up. I do hope you can make it. With love, Molly Weasley."

She paused, her eyes wide, reading the words again as if they might change. The letter had the unmistakable warmth of Molly’s affection, but it also carried an unmistakable undertone—a sense that Molly was quietly probing, looking for confirmation of the rumors that had been circulating. It was impossible to ignore the subtext: Molly had heard about their engagement. She was curious, and no doubt, she was already planning how best to greet them at the Burrow, probably with her usual combination of motherly concern and excitement.

"Well," Hermione said finally, her voice flat with the weight of realization. "It looks like our cover story is about to get a lot more... real."

Percy didn’t speak at first, his eyes flicking from Hermione to the letter, processing the implications. There was no doubt in his mind that Molly Weasley wasn’t the only one who had heard the rumours. Word had already spread through the Ministry, and soon, it would reach everyone they knew—friends, colleagues, and family. This was the moment they would have to begin acting, playing the parts of a couple who had been engaged for a month, even though neither of them had felt the stirrings of romantic affection until the entire situation had been forced upon them.

Percy’s lips twitched, the corner of his mouth curving upward in what could almost be called a smile, though it was more of an expression of mild amusement. He studied Hermione for a moment, as if weighing the challenge ahead, before he spoke, his voice slightly more playful than usual.

"I suppose we’ll have to brush up on our acting skills then, won’t we?" His words were accompanied by a glimmer of something in his eyes—maybe even a touch of intrigue. This wasn’t exactly a situation Percy Weasley could’ve prepared for, but it was one he would tackle with his usual precision and pragmatism. They would need to be convincing, every moment calculated, and he was fully prepared for the challenge.

Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "This is going to be interesting," she muttered, more to herself than to Percy. The weight of the task they had ahead of them was starting to sink in. Molly would expect them at the Burrow on Sunday, and while she had no doubt they would be welcomed with open arms, the prospect of spending an entire afternoon pretending to be in love with Percy in front of the entire Weasley clan was an entirely different matter.

She let out a long breath, her mind already racing through possible scenarios. "I suppose we’ll have to be extra careful. We can’t let anything slip."

Percy nodded thoughtfully, his posture still calm and collected. "We’ll need to make sure our story checks out, especially with Ron and Ginny. They’ll be watching us like hawks, looking for any cracks in the façade."

Hermione glanced up at him, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Oh, I’m sure Ron’s already got a list of questions prepared. He won’t let us off easy."

Percy gave a dry chuckle, though it was clear he was still processing everything. "And Ginny... She won’t let us get away with anything either. She’s sharp, and she’s not afraid to call us out if she thinks we’re lying."

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh softly at the thought of Ginny’s straightforward, no-nonsense attitude. "No, she definitely won’t. Well, at least we won’t be bored."

"True," Percy said with a smirk. "It’s going to be an interesting Sunday indeed."

As the weight of the upcoming weekend loomed over them, Hermione glanced once more at the letter in her hands. She could practically hear Molly’s voice in her head, filled with warmth and a touch of curiosity. There was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that the Weasley matriarch was already planning every detail of the lunch—perhaps even imagining her beloved son and Hermione together, laughing and sharing stories. It would take every ounce of their acting skills to keep up the façade, but they had no choice. They had to keep the lie alive—at least for now.

"Well," Hermione said, her tone more resolute, "I guess it’s time we get our story straight. If we’re going to convince the Weasleys, we need to be believable."

Percy nodded in agreement, his usual stoicism returning. "Agreed. Let’s make sure we don’t miss any details."

And so, with the weight of the Weasley family’s expectations pressing down on them, they prepared for the next chapter of their unlikely charade. The game was on, and there was no turning back now.