A/N: Hey there, and thank you for clicking on this story! Please enjoy!

This story is written for Round 13 on the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, for the Beater 2's position. It was a free round, so you could write whatever you want, as long as it was between 1000 and 3000 words, and rated between K and T.

Usually I'm buzzing with inspiration and excitement, but now it was just... nothing. Freedom is terrifying... Anyway, this is what it turned into. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A Thief

She wasn't interested in him, she had told her friends that during their many whispery conversations in class or in the dorm, whenever they had pointed out that she was always around him.

Me always around him? She would ask them then indignantly. He's always around me! He's Mundungus Fletcher, Merlin's socks, of course I'm not interested in him! I just let him carry my books and do my homework, he's useful like that.

Her friends believed her, of course, because she never showed any particular interest in Mundungus whenever she was in public. But she was lying to them, because she actually liked him, despite him not being the handsomest of the boys. He had a sense of humour, and seemed genuinely interested in her, unlike the other boys, who only talked to her because she was Rita Skeeter and pretty.

Mun wasn't like that. He talked to her because he thought she was creative and nice, because she was good at telling stories and could write really pretty, and because, well, because... Mun always gave a million more reasons, but Rita wasn't able to recall them at this moment.

But no matter how much she liked Mun, she still had to act as everyone expected her to act. In public, that is. Mun never said anything about it, just silently endured the sneers and giggles as soon as he had his back turned.

"Thanks Mun," the blonde said, as she ran a hand through her curls. "You can put them there."

The small ginger boy carefully placed the books on the desk the girl had pointed to, causing the girl to give him a bright smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome Rita, as always." The boy smiled at her, a love struck look in his eyes.

She smiled at him once again, and the boy took this as his cue to leave.

"Finally, he's gone," one of Rita's friends whispered to her, "I was almost getting sick from his stench."

Rita giggled, knowing that her friends expected her to do so. She never noticed Mundungus's smell, and frankly, she thought her friends were just being stupid. He didn't smell at all.

She wished that she could just be friends with Mundungus, but that was not simply possible, she knew. Being friends with him, in public, would be disastrous for her chances on a good career.

She could only hope that he understood that. And that he didn't hate her for it.

He was watching her, watching her with pain and disappointment in his eyes. Just a few days ago Rita had told him to stay away from her, that "she was sick of his stalking" and that "his smell repelled all and everyone, even the ghosts!"

She had hurt him terribly, it had come out of nowhere. But now, as Mundungus was watching her, watching how she was talking and very obviously flirting with Mark Hoffman, it all became clear for him.

Rita had never been interested in him in the first place – of course, what would such a pretty blonde want from someone like him? She might be a Ravenclaw, but what she had done was very Slytherin like of her. She had just used him.

Mundungus felt like a fool for not seeing that before, for letting her use him. He felt angry and hurt and disappointed, because he had been sure that Rita, real Rita, wouldn't act like this. He had been sure that she had a heart, that there was beauty inside of her too – he had even seen it, in those moments they had spent together without her friends hanging around her – but obviously he had been wrong. Rita Skeeter didn't have a heart and she didn't have feelings and she wasn't beautiful inside, and she would never have and never be.

Bitterness had now taken the place of the hurt and disappointment in Mundungus's eyes, and when his eyes found hers across the room, he could see her jump a little at the look in his eyes. After staring her straight in the eye for another second, he turned away, swearing to himself never to talk to her again. She wasn't worth his attention.

"Rita, are you okay?" Mark asked her, and she focussed her attention back to him. But Mundungus had looked so betrayed that it was hard to get that image out of her head.

"Oh yes," she said, letting out a fake laugh and giving him a bright smile, "I'm fine, just thought I saw something there. But it was probably just an owl."

Mark turned around to look too, and Rita noticed that Mundungus had gone now. "I don't see anything."

"Nah, it's probably gone now," she said, feeling a tiny spark of regret that he was indeed gone now. "Now, what were you telling me about your father?"

"Oh yeah," the boy said, and he continued talking, but Rita wasn't listening, not really. It had been her fault that she had to end their relationship – or whatever it had been they had had – because she had been allowing herself to feel something for him. Feel something else than friendship, and Rita Skeeter could absolutely not feel that for someone as Mundungus Fletcher.

She had been enjoying their conversations too much, had laughed too much at his jokes, and had felt flattered when he had held open doors for her or when he had complimented her. And since the chances of him breaking off whatever they had had been quite slim, she had to do it herself.

Plus, there had been Mark. All her friends had been saying that he liked her, and the fact that he was now talking to her only proved that. Mark was fitting for her, they had told her, Mark was handsome and popular, perfect for her. A Quidditch player, a Gryffindor, a year above her, rich parents... just perfect for her.

But Rita had to remind herself of laughing at his jokes, because they weren't funny at all, standing in pale comparison to Mundungus's. She had to force herself to pay attention to what he was saying, while with Mun it had been easy, as his words were so interesting that she hadn't wanted to miss a thing. And she had to consciously think of putting a hand on Mark's arm, and keeping it there, while her hand had fit naturally-

Okay Rita, stop thinking about it like that! She inwardly scolded herself. It's useless! Mundungus would only stand in your way, would only stand in the way of your career, while Mark is very useful for it.

She had had no choice. And maybe one day he would understand that.

They hadn't seen each other in years. Decades even. Not since they had graduated Hogwarts. And now they saw each other there again, though in much different circumstances. The castle was trembling from the fighting and the explosions, light beams coming from everywhere and shouting turning into screaming more often than not.

They both hadn't planned to be here, but had landed here accidentally. Mundungus had been pulled along by the other members of the Order, telling him that he needed to stop being such a coward, because this was the battle, the battle that would either change the rest of their lives, or end their lives. So Mundungus had to stop being a coward, as this was very probably his last chance of proving himself. And thus Mundungus had come.

Rita had come here, hoping for a good article, but underestimating the circumstances – she hadn't expected the battle to be so violent. And on whose side was she? She didn't want You-Know-Who to win, so that meant she was on the other side, the good side, but... she didn't want to fight. She couldn't fight, she was too scared to fight. She just wanted to hide somewhere and let the others fight.

But it was too late for hiding now. She was standing with her back against a wall in an empty room, breathing heavily, her sweaty hand clenched around her wand. Maybe no one would come here, maybe she was safe here, maybe-

Two figures dressed in black and wearing masks blew up the door and Rita let out a scream. Deatheaters, her mind told her, but she couldn't move, glued to the spot. They didn't seem to see her though, too occupied with casting spells to someone standing in the corridor.

A moment later, that person ran into the room as well, and with a sick feeling settling in her stomach, Rita realised it was a student. Onestudent, fighting against two adults. So unfair.

She needed to do something, she knew, but she didn't do anything. Everything in her was telling her to do something, screaming at her to help that student, but she didn't move, she just stood there, frozen.

Fortunately though, someone else noticed that the student was in need of help. Two someones, even. Adults, Rita noticed with relief, teachers, perhaps, or those other people running around.

The Deatheaters, now outnumbered, were quickly defeated by the three, and were now lying paralysed and tied up on the ground.

There was a short silence, in which Rita swore she could hear the laboured breathing of the three over the screams and other sounds from outside of the room, before a loud explosion was heard.

And then everything went really fast.

"Skeeter, duck!" someone yelled, but she was too frozen and everything went too fast for her to do something. A moment later she was blown away, and she flew through the air, expecting to hit something hard any moment now – but the moment never came.

Instead, she landed on something soft, which she recognised as the inflatable pillow spell. It was only for a moment that she could enjoy her peace though, as a second later something heavy fell on her. That heavy and alive thing immediately got up, and roughly pulled her up too.

"You idiot," he hissed at her, his hand painfully holding her arm and his brown eyes looking at blazingly. "Either defend yourself or leave!"

With that, he let go of her and took off again, disappearing in the clouds of dust and smoke. Rita was left standing there, her wand still in her trembling hand. She had recognised him, of course. He may have gotten older, but those brown eyes were still the same.

Mundungus Fletcher had just saved her life.

Her legs were trembling as she walked through the crowd in the Great Hall, looking for him. She needed to find him. She didn't know why exactly, she just needed to find him.

And there he stood, in a corner, all on his own, a glass of wine in his hand. He looked horrible, she realised as she got close. He was bruised and his eyes were bloodshot, and the hand in which he was holding the wine was trembling.

"Mundungus," she said, causing him to look up and give her a tired smile.

"Hello again Rita," he greeted her, and held his glass out to her. "Wine?"

"Yes please," she said without thinking, and gulped the liquid down. She didn't realise she had been this thirsty.

"Thank you," she said as she handed him the empty glass back. After a moment she added, "For the wine, and... and for saving my life."

"You're welcome," he simply said, placing the glass on the ground.

To avoid looking at him, she stared at the Great Hall. It was still as big as she remembered, though now in ruins – windows shattered, tables broken and piles of stones laying around. And not to mention all the people, they weren't the students she remembered seeing in this room.

No, these were hurt people, mourning people, celebrating people, people who had just survived a war. And she was one of them, she realised. She had just survived a war.

Oh Merlin, she could've died...

Her body was shaking now, and tears were blurring her vision, though she couldn't pinpoint why exactly she was crying. There were so many reasons to cry. She lowered herself on the floor, sitting down on the cold stones.

She had no idea why all of this was coming out now. After-effects of the shock and the fear, probably.

"Rita, are you alright?" Mundungus asked her worriedly, kneeling down next to her.

"Oh Mun, I'm so sorry! I never should've dumped you, I'm so so sorry," she cried out, feeling close to hysterics.

"You're worried about that now?" Mundungus asked, an amused undertone in his voice, though he knew the situation wasn't very amusing to Rita.

"I could've died!" she cried, "I could've died, and no one would've cared!"

"Er..." he said, not sure what to say or do. Crying women... what man could handle those? After some thinking, Mundungus softly squeezed her shoulder, causing Rita to turn to him and start sobbing into his chest.

Well, that had not been his intention... He awkwardly patted her back, saying "It's okay" so many times that he had lost count.

"No, it's not okay," Rita muttered in his chest, and he was glad to hear that she didn't sound as hysteric as before. "They wouldn't have cared. They would pretend to care, yes, but wouldn't really care."

Mundungus was silent at this, not knowing how to reply to this. Fortunately Rita just continued, not expecting an answer to him.

"You did. You did care. And I... and I just..." she fell silent, drawing in a shaky breath.

"It... It's okay, Rita," he said, after a silence that had seemed to stretch on forever.

Her head snapped up, and she stared at him with red eyes. Her hair was a mess, her face covered in dirt, and her lower lip was bleeding. She was everything but the charming Rita Skeeter everyone thought her to be.

"I can't forgive you," Mundungus said slowly, carefully choosing his words. Her face fell at this, but he quickly continued, "I can't forgive you just yet. I need to think... Rita, you have no idea... you have no idea how much you've hurt me."

"I'm sorry," she croaked, and her eyes were filled with regret. Mundungus had no reason to think that she didn't mean it.

"I know," he whispered, "but I need to think first. Is that okay?"

He didn't know why he was asking, it just felt as if he had to ask her opinion in this too.

"That's okay," she said, "it's okay."

"Yes," he silently agreed, and hugged her closer. "It's okay."

And there they sat, in that corner, silently hugging each other, for an indefinite period of time, completely unnoticed by the rest of the crowd.

And it was okay.

A/N: Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it :) Reviews are very appreciated!
Thanks again!