A/N: This was written for the prompt Rita/Gilderoy in both the "A Wild Pairing Appeared! - Speed Drabble Competition", and the 2015 New Years Milionnaire Fanfiction Resolution Goals Competition.
I go over my appearance once more in the mirror. Lime green business suit showing a bit of cleavage; check. Matching stiletto heels and clutch; check. Ruby red lips, curled in a seductive smile; check. I'm ready to go.
My editor still thinks Cassandra is the right person to be writing the Society Page, which of course is ludicrous. I'd do a far better job than she ever could, but most likely the special treatment she gives him has landed her the Meaghan McCormack wedding, where she'll sit aside national Quidditch players, while I'm in the Leaky Cauldron interviewing some author who just published his first book, Break With A Banshee. It's maddening, really. However, I did a little background check and the man himself is a bit of eye candy, so if I play my cards right, my readers might just prefer my story over Cassandra's wedding wailings. Also, I wouldn't mind a bit of screaming myself, if you know what I mean (and I know you do).
The subject of my article sits at a table for two, a little to the left of the centre. I recognise him immediately from the photographs. He is a very handsome man indeed, with a captivating smile and wavy, blond hair. He greets me as if I'm an old friend instead of someone he met seconds ago.
"Rita Skeeter, how lovely to see you. I recognise your picture from the Daily Prophet."
I frown. There's a small picture of me above my column, but it's definitely not my best.
"I like to think that the picture doesn't do me justice."
He laughs. "Quite so, quite so. But let's cut to the chase, shall we? We're not here to talk about you, we're here to talk about me."
"I thought we were here to discuss your book." I already dislike this man. His self-confidence is appalling for someone who has yet to accomplish anything.
He must have read it on my face, for his smile quivers a bit.
"You and I, we're alike. We both need an audience for our writing. So I have a proposition to make."
I am intrigued. What could he possibly have to proposition? "I'm listening," I reply.
"You make this interview the best you've ever written, you tell your audience that buying this book might just be the best decision they've yet to make."
"Right. That sounds like a great deal for you, but where's my profit in that?"
"Ah, I thought you'd say that." He sends me that charming smile again and I feel my knees going wobbly and something coiling in my insides. "How about I'd give you a scoop, a scandal involving one Mrs Bagnold, something that will cause quite the stir when it's published?"
Now he's got my attention. If there's a scandal involving the Minister, that's definitely going to attract my readers. I needn't think long. I shake his extended hand and send him a seductive smile of my own. "I think I could work with that." He gets less irritating by the minute.
The next morning, not one, but two articles by my hand make it into the Prophet. The regular readers find their front page covered by the face of the Minister for Magic, and the headline "Skeletons In Her Closet: The Past That Millicent Bagnold Tries To Cover Up", by Rita Skeeter. Several owls had arrived at my editor's office early in the morning, bringing angry letters from the Ministry, even before the papers came out to the public, which all the more convinces him that the story is genuine. He saw himself forced to divide the Society Pages between myself and Cassandra, so that her two-page spread of the Wedding's Who's Wearing What had to be squeezed into one page (she refused the let anything out, so now the spread is practically unreadable), while the other page features my second contribution: A praising article on dashing Gilderoy Lockhart and his first book, with the note that this might just become this year's bestseller. There's a picture of the two of us at the centre (taken, as if with foresight, before the interview, when we both didn't look dishevelled yet), and from the paper, Gilderoy sends me cheeky wink that makes my mind wander back to our after-interview activities. I have a feeling this won't be the last he and I will be seeing of each other, and I grin. In retrospect, interviewing Gilderoy Lockhart wasn't such a bad assignment after all.