Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) forum, specifically for Go Beyond! Plus Ultra - step 4: Rita Skeeter (Character).
It's strange, after the Battle of Hogwarts. Life doesn't seem quite real. It passes in minutes stretching for hours and quick bursts of days one after the other. Parvati only remembers life after in blurry memories, the exhaustion that occasionally still tugs at her.
She remembers crying. She doesn't remember stopping.
But the months pass (and, eventually, so will years), scars fade though never entirely. Still, Parvati does her best. There are too many late nights to count, ones spent with hot chocolate in hands and in front of the fire place, head bowed beneath the weight of her grief; and nights spent laughing with friends, old and new, chasing happiness like they don't know how to do otherwise.
When people talk about Parvati, Lavender's ghost hovers over their conversation. The people who don't mention her try to look Parvati in the eye, she stares back as bold as Lavender on her worst days. The people who do mention her don't meet Parvati's eyes, and she dares them to, brave as Lavender on her best days.
Most people don't talk about who they were, don't bring up Parvati or Lavender. The reason has never directly mentioned, not when Parvati can hear. But she's always known what they said about her and Lavender, the two girls always gossiping in the corner of the room. People called them air-heads, little girls, gossipmongers, because they were children and young and giggling.
Leaving Hogwarts is the start of something new, the start of everything, the start of a life without Lavender in it. Parvati remembers bending over crystal balls and gazing at tea leaves. She remembers promises of a long life, of happiness, of hardship overcome.
What did Lavender get? Lavender did not get a long life—but Parvati read happiness and a good life time and time again. She hopes Lavender got it.
But Lavender died, her life cut short, and Parvati is left behind to find her own future.
So Parvati steps into the shoes of an Auror, steps out of them just as quickly. When spells fly, curses bright bursts of light, she sees stone walls, the screams of students and Death Eaters alike. She's fought in her war, and she's content to be done with it now.
Where does she go though? Parvati remembers stepping into Professor McGonagall and talking about future career prospects. It feels like so long ago now, when she was nothing more than a child. All she knows is that she's not going to be an Auror nor a Ministry worker—she knows how corrupt they are, and the war proved that you can't trust officials.
It's Padma who gives her the idea in the end. Padma's started helping at the apothecary, working her way to get a potions mastery. They're at the Leaky Cauldron for Padma's break, watching as reporters trail after some Ministry official.
"Do you remember," Padma says, words slow, "in fourth year, when Pansy said you were such a good gossiper you could be a reporter?"
"Can't say I remember all of Pansy's teasing," Parvati says, even as she frowns over the idea. She's not exactly thought about being a reporter before. But… Well, Parvati's good at listening to gossip, gathering favours for later, and she learnt from Lavender how to be spiteful and sharp when you want to be. "It's an idea though. I'd just have to make a good entry into the reporter fields to get a nice position. I don't want to start at the bottom."
It'd be the proper thing to do, Parvati knows. But it's not what she wants to do. If she's going to be a reporter, she wants to be seen from the beginning, not work her way up.
"Well," Padma says after a pause. "There's one reporter who's a household name that you can get some dirt on."
"Who?" Parvati asks, then-
"Rita Skeeter," they say together.
Parvati smiles. "Guess it's time to owl some old friends."
She talks to Luna, to Hermione, to Harry, and even manages to get a hold of Draco who's trying not to be cruel these days. She talks to people who've been victimised by Skeeter's stories, and those who have gained from them.
For the most part, Skeeter goes after things she can dramatize, frequently love affairs. Sometimes they don't exist and sometimes they do and are then torn apart. Skeeter's smile, red like blood, is in every photo Parvati says. But it doesn't scare her.
It's not the slow creeping grin of someone who knows that pain is coming. It's painted on, fierce, but Parvati remembers fiercer smiles, sharper ones too. And, when Skeeter finds her, Parvati puts on her own make-up and smiles back, sharp and fierce and lips dyed red like blood.
"I've heard you're trying to be a reporter," Skeeter says, voice all sickly sweet as they have tea. Skeeter's the one who organised the meeting, and she's sharp in person.
Parvati's sharper.
"You've heard right," she agrees. "I've heard you're getting too old to be a reporter, that your ability to sniff out affairs is disappearing rapidly as time passes. How many affairs haven't existed in the past few months that you've reported? Eight of twenty, was it?"
Skeeter doesn't scowl, too poised and controlled for that, but her eyes narrow. Parvati sips her tea, sees the dregs of the tea leaves, watches the shapes form. You don't read your own tea leaves though, Parvati knows that.
"Why are you trying to be a reporter? Don't you have something to do? Fix your make-up, perhaps? Mourn your ghosts."
It's a harsh blow, a strong one, but it's one that Parvati expected. Skeeter is rather predictable. "Maybe I'm doing this for them," Parvati offers. She stands, tucks some hair behind her ear, and smiles. "Thank you for meeting with me. I'll owl you the article."
Rita Skeeter is still a reporter following Parvati's article which is published in four separate newspapers. Skeeter does, however, come out of it with several fines and a number of eyes watching her.
Parvati, on the other hand, receives a commendation for revealing Skeeter's status as an illegal animagus and identifying the individuals who've paid her to create certain articles and affairs. She gets a fair bit of hate for what she did, but she gets even more owls from people who were victimised or had their lives ruined by Skeeter.
It's not exactly what Parvati thought she'd be doing in her life after everything. But she likes it, likes putting her talents to good use, likes finding people committing wrongdoings and think they can get away with it because of their positions. There's something good about doing it, like she's proving anyone who ever called her a little girl, an air-head, useless, wrong.
Wherever Lavender is, she hopes she's proud.