[A/N: Hi, couple of quick announcements before we dive in. First of all, this is actually a bit of a sequel, although I suppose it's not strictly necessary to read the first story. As it says in the summary, this is in the same universe as one of my other stories, The Staircase Time Froze. I don't intend to continue that story, but I did a sort of accidental backdoor pilot in it with a scene I wrote about Luna, and the rest of her story started to write itself in my mind.

If you skip reading the first story, this takes place in an AU that's very close to canon, except that James and Lily Potter are alive, they were trapped for twenty years, and Harry and Ginny went through a whole ordeal to save them from a spell Dumbledore put them under. So, you know, not much is different. That part of the plot won't interact with this story for a while, so again, if that doesn't appeal to you, and you're just here for some slow burn, enemies to lovers Luna/Rolf, I think it'll all still make sense.

Should also mention, since we don't know literally anything about Rolf from the books, I've obviously taken some liberties with him. I've tried to use all the info I can about him, but in the end, he's mostly going to be my creation, so I'd love feedback on him.]

The gavel banged with a ring of finality, and the crowd of onlookers exploded. Some clapped and whooped exuberantly, but most roared, hate filling their eyes as they gnashed their teeth at the young woman on the platform. She watched for a moment, trying to steady her breathing, then turned to the Minister, sitting behind the podium, still wielding his gavel dangerously.

"You're sure there isn't anyone else, Minister?" Luna Lovegood tugged gently on one plum shaped earring, the only outward sign of her underlying anxiety.

"Of course there are others, Luna, but we chose you. It was an unanimous vote, you know," Kingsley replied, keeping his sharp eyes on the undulating crowd.

Looking out at the crowd, her former colleagues, Luna couldn't help but see their pain. Some of them had worked at the Prophet for for decades. Most of them had families to support. And many of them thought that a girl her age was wholly unqualified to run an international newspaper. And why wouldn't they?, Luna thought to herself. She hesitated, then stepped towards the podium. "May I speak to them?"

Kingsley looked at her slyly. "If you think it'll help…"

She took his place, and surveyed the mass of people. Her heart thudded in her chest, a steady bass line to the staccato thoughts running through her mind. This was not how she'd expected today to go. She's only been working at The Daily Prophet for two months, since she graduated at the beginning of the summer, she wasn't ready for this. But then, she supposed, if the Minster of Magic himself trusted her, then she might just have to trust herself as well.

"Excuse me, everyone," Luna said quietly, surprised to find her voice magically amplified. She stopped, startled, and Kingsley's kind eyes beckoned her to continue.

"Hello. My name is Luna Lovegood, and I'm the new Editor in Chief of the Daily Prophet."

Six Months Earlier…

It had been a bright, sunny Friday morning, and the Great Hall was filled with excited chatter. No longer bothering with sitting by house, Luna sat with Ginny and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, lazily stirring her porridge as she listened to Hermione talk. Hermione was prattling on about their N.E.W.T. tests, which had ended that week. They didn't get their scores until Monday, but that didn't stop Hermione from going over all the mistakes she was sure she'd made from morning 'til night every day until then. Ginny didn't even pretend to listen anymore, and was instead reading a book of Quidditch plays that Harry had given her as an early graduation present. Mercifully, the mail arrived, and Hermione fell silent as she read a letter from Ron.

Luna was surprised when a muscly deep brown owl swooped close to her head, and dropped a letter in her lap.

"Where you expecting anything, Luna?" Ginny munched on a piece of toast, not trying to disguise her interest in any topic besides their N.E.W.T.s.

"No, I just replied to Daddy's last letter yesterday, and I didn't expect to hear from any of the jobs I applied to until we got out results back. " Ginny sat back, disappointed in the shift back to the dreaded topic. She'd only stayed in school because her mother wouldn't let her drop out, but Ginny had been signed to the Holyhead Harpies since December.

Luna carefully opened the envelope, and read the unfamiliar, tight script. Her jaw dropped.

"What, what is it? Is your dad okay?" Ginny leaned over the table to take grip her hand, and Hermione was torn from Ron's letter, concern written all over her face.

"No…everything's fine," she breathed out. "I got the job at the Daily Prophet."

Hermione's eyes went wide as Ginny stifled her scream of joy. "You're joking! I thought they weren't making decisions until they got your scores?"

"So did I. But they say here that my work on the Quibbler is proof enough that I'm a good writer, so they don't care about my scores." She reread the letter as Hermione and Ginny caused a ruckus, hooting and hollering. Like clockwork, Professor McGonagall stormed over to them.

"Girls! What is the meaning of this? I expect better behavior from the Head Girl, and from you as well, Miss Weasley." McGonagall glared at them over the top of her spectacles, although a twinkle in her eye told them she was glad to see them so happy.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione panted. "Luna got the job at the Daily Prophet!"

McGonagall let a small smile grace her lips. "Is this true, Miss Lovegood?"

"Yes, Professor. I'm going be the Junior Magizooligy Reporter." She let the words sink in, filling her heart with an unfamiliar type of joy.

McGonagall beamed at her. "Well done, Miss Lovegood. I'm very happy to hear that, although I'm not sure that your father will be."

"Oh no, Daddy knows all about it. He said I was going to be his 'man on the inside,' so he can try to print the truth when the Prophet tries to print lies. I'm just happy to be able to support him, since we haven't had very much money since the war," Luna replied eagerly.

"Er, yes, I'm sure that's true. In any case, I'm very proud of you, Miss Lovegood. It's about time someone with some morals worked for the Prophet." And with that, Professor McGonagall gave her a kind smile, and strolled away.

"Miss Lovegood! Welcome, welcome. I'm the Editor of the Daily Prophet, Barnabas Cuffe. Please, come into my office." The plump older man called to her jovially as he wound his way through the scattered desks, sidestepping the occasional swooping owl with ease. He shook her hand energetically, and quickly led her back through the maze of desks to a door at the back. Luna smiled at the receptionist outside his door, as he fiddled with the lock until it finally popped open. The office was cozy, to put it lightly, and cramped. A large wooden desk took up most of the space, with a cushy chair behind it, and two smaller folding chairs facing the desk. One such folding chair was already occupied, and Luna felt her throat close up as its inhabitant turned around. The man was handsome, to say the least, with dark, almost luminescent skin, and hazel eyes that burned right through her. He was, at most twenty-five, with a little bit of lingering baby fat cushioning his sharp features. For just a second as he turned, she could swear he was angry, but then a calm, arrogant smirk spread across his face.

"You must be my new girl. Rolf Scamander. Charmed, I'm sure." He lazing extended one muscled arm as she took a seat next to him.

Shaking his hand, Luna tried to focus on the conversation, and not the man himself. "Nice to meet you. I've read all of your grandfather's books. He got quite a lot wrong, you know."

Rolf stared at her, a thunder cloud growing behind his eyes. He was about to say something when Mr. Cuffe interrupted.

"Yes, indeed!" Cuffe clearly hadn't been paying attention to their conversation as he struggled to fit around the side of the desk and get into the chair behind it. "Listen to this man, Miss Lovegood, he knows what he's about! Rolf here is our senior magizoo-whatzie correspondent, so you'll be taking your marching orders from him." He shuffled some papers around on the messy desk, and finally extracted a thin folder. "Ah! Here's your contract, I just need your signature in a few places, then Mr. Scamander-"

"Hmm?" Rolf had been trying to sneak out unnoticed, and turned back to his boss guiltily.

"If you don't mind sticking around and giving Miss Lovegood a tour?" Rolf looked to Luna, who was looking over the contract attentively.

Rolf could help but sigh as he answered, "Fine. But it's going to be short, I'm a very busy man."

"That's alright, Mr. Scamander," Luna replied with her trademark smile. "I can show myself around. I'm quite used to figuring things out on my own. You aren't the first person to dislike me," she said as she carefully signed the contract.

Rolf stuttered, and Cuffe choked on his sip of tea. "No, I don't - What are you talking about? I don't dislike you, we just met! I'm just busy, that's all." His eyes darted across the strange girl, sitting there calm and collected.

"Alright, if you say so." Luna stood, and handed the signed contract back to Mr. Cuffe. "In that case, I'd love a tour of the office." Rolf stood to the side of the door, letting Luna go first, and nodded to Mr. Cuffe as he followed her out.

"Well, this room is the entire thing. To the left, you're got your spellcheckers." He gestured to a cluster of desks tucked in the corner of the room closest to Cuffe's office. These were clearly the youngest people working in the office. Luna recognized Terry Boot, who'd been in the DA, and waved at him. He didn't notice, engrossed in a piece of parchment that nearly reached the ground.

"To the right, you've got the editors. They each have control over their own sections, and have people on the ground that report back to them, like you. My desk's right up front, here, but you won't be here very often." The editor's section was barren, but for a few occupied desks.

"Where is everyone?" Luna asked innocently.

"Most of them work from home. Everyone has a desk available to them, but Cuffe doesn't much care where everyone is, as long as the paper goes out on time." He glared at her. "No questions."

Luna nodded obediently, and scurried along beside him as he made his way back towards the entrance. "Through that door, you've got the darkroom for the photographers. You'll be in contact with them quite a lot. To the right, field reporters' desks. No assigned seating, they're available to whoever needs them. The stairs go to the owlry, and I believe you're familiar with the fireplace. I bid you good day, Miss Lovegood," Rolf finished brusquely. He ushered her towards the hearth and swiftly turned on his heel to head back to his desk.

"Wait!" Luna called after him. "What do I do now?"

"Now?" He arched an eyebrow at her. "Now, you leave. I have matters to attend to."

Luna marched over to him, and lowered her voice. "But what about my job? What do I do?"

Rolf looked down on the younger woman, nerves thoroughly shot. "You wait for my owl, Lovegood, and then you write. What's so difficult to understand about that? I would have thought I didn't need to explain publishing to the daughter of the crackpot behind the Quibbler." Their conversation had drawn the attention of the few reporters in attendance, and a couple of them guffawed at his last remark. Rolf stood there, smirking at her.

Luna stepped closer to him, getting a whiff of his musky cologne. It was intoxicating, but she tried to ignore the pleasant scent. "Thank you for the clarification, but I'd appreciate if, in the future, you didn't refer to my father in such rude terms."

Rolf laughed bitterly. "I wouldn't be so rude if your father wasn't so crazy."

Luna tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "You know," she said quietly. "It's a shame you feel that way. I had hoped we could be friends. If you weren't so rude, you'd be quite a handsome man." She turned on her heel, and in roar of green fire, was gone.

Luna stumbled out of the fireplace at the Daily Prophet, dead tired. Her first month at the paper hadn't been easy in the slightest. She never minded the actual work with the animals, but Rolf seemed determined to make her regret taking the job in the first place. Today, for example, he'd scheduled her an interview in the morning, and expected the piece on his desk by midnight. Luna had been excited at first, as the subject was a prominent crossbreeder, but then she learned that that he could only meet with her for ten minutes at 4 a.m., as he was still on Austrailian time. When she had confronted Rolf, he'd shrugged and implied that she wasn't cut out for journalism. And that's how she ended up at the office just minutes from midnight, exhausted but triumphant, as she marched her finished story over to his desk.

The office was virtually empty. Rolf had his feet propped up on the desk, leaning back in his chair. He appeared to be asleep, so Luna gently placed her article on his desk, trying not to wake him. Just as she began to gratefully head back to the fireplace, she heard his slow drawl.

"You're late, Lovegood."

She sighed, too tired to respond with as much anger as she felt. "You said midnight. It's not midnight yet."

He kept his eyes on her as he whipped out his pocket watch and examined it in the low light. "Hmm…I suppose that's true. You're still cutting it pretty close." His scoffed laugh cut through the stillness of the silent office. "Maybe you really weren't up to this assignment after all. It shouldn't have taken you all day to write this much."

As the anger slowly simmered in her stomach, Luna reminded herself that he hadn't had the same day that she just did - didn't know the trouble taken to make the article as good, if not better, than one of his own. "I had to take all day to research what I didn't have time to ask, since Hillman only had ten minutes to spare. In spite of that roadblock, I think you're find my article to be completely satisfactory." The call of her warm bed winning out over her anger, she once again headed towards the fireplace.

Rolf, however, seemed intent on picking a fight. "A real magizooligist would have known all of this of the top of their head," he called out to her retreating frame.

Normally this kind of slight would be quite de rigueur for Luna, but once again, her exhaustion won. "A real journalist," she uttered with a hint of iron in her voice, turning back to face him, "wouldn't be too proud to do their research. I don't know about you, Mr. Scamander, but I prefer not to print work that I'm not satisfied with."

A tense moment floated between them, as Rolf studied her for a moment, before hopping out of his chair. He picked up her article and sauntered over to hand it to her. "Well, lucky for you, this won't be getting printed at all."

As she automatically took the proffered piece of parchment, she searched his face for meaning. "You haven't read it yet."

He held her gaze for a moment before returning to his desk. "It's nothing personal. I've decided to print my version instead. Hillman's a close family friend, so I was able to chat with him at length over dinner last night."

She stood, planted to the spot, trying to slow her breathing. The man obviously wanted to play some sort of power game, something she had no interest in whatsoever. Remembering her mother's lesson that honestly was always the best policy, she decided to just ask the question that had been on her mind since their very first meeting. "Why did you even hire me, Rolf?," she said quietly, hurt evident in her large eyes.

Her superior was at first caught off guard by the shift in her emotions. Eventually he responded, pain filling his deep voice. "Oh trust me, that wasn't my decision. I'm quite capable of running the column without you getting in my way."

Luna took a step towards him, questions exploding in her mind like fireworks. Before she could respond, however, he cleared his throat and resurrected his brash exterior.

"Fine, I'll take a look at it, Lovegood." He strode towards her and ripped the parchment from her hands. He was now close enough that she could smell his cologne once more. Was that a hint of orange she smelled? "But I make no promises. Now for Merlin's sake, go to bed. You look terrible."

As much as she wanted to sate her Ravenclaw curiosity, she knew his cruel words weren't wrong. Luna knew a dismissal when she heard one, and after all, she was truly exhausted. So, with one last long look at her curious supervisor, she made her way to the fireplace and vanished into the green flames.

[A/N: Truth be told, I don't even know how many people are still here after Rowling's idiocy, but if anyone is still out there, I'd love any feedback as to whether this is something you'd even be interested in. Stay safe, and keep wearing masks!]