Chapter 156: Assistive Absurdity

It had been a long and trying day, but Hermione and Sirius didn't go straight up to bed after the meeting. Hermione's excuse was that she wanted to create notes for Skeeter, Sirius's that he was checking the wards in the drawing room to create a mind map for turning half of it into another balcony. For both of them, however, they were listening out.

And it turned out they weren't wrong to. The clattering of bodies hitting the floor downstairs sounded at a little past eleven. It was followed shortly by Tonks calling through the house a wobbly 'Sorry! Sorry – I had to take you up on it! I hope we haven't woken you up!'

Hermione hurried after Sirius as he jogged to the stairs, then down them, happy to let him go first in case there was a problem with Remus.

It didn't seem there was. Hermione spotted Tonks from the stairs, a weepy Teddy clutched to the front of her robes. Stepping out of the dining room, more reticently, was a very tame-looking wolf.

Hermione had known what Remus was for years. She'd seen him transform, once, on that awful night years ago. But that was still, it seemed, inadequate preparation for coming abruptly face-to-face with his wolf.

For a moment, the sight of him gave Hermione a remembered shock of fear. It disappeared swiftly, but it was still confronting to see the large, greying wolf standing in her ground floor corridor. He met her eyes, briefly, and Hermione got a little jolt at the wild golden-eyed look of a real werewolf.

'Oh – we had to!' Tonks was saying. 'Remus noticed it first – another Dementor – but I didn't want to think it'd actually come right up to the house! And then I felt it – and Teddy started screaming –'

Tonks broke off. Her lip was trembling. Tonks was white as a sheet, her hair a lank brown. The hand she was using to try to sooth Teddy was jittering visibly.

'So I just grabbed my portkey and… came,' she finished, rubbing Teddy's back in flustered motions.

Sirius nodded.

'I'll put a Silencing Charm on my mother's old room,' he told Remus.

Remus's head was bowed, but he seemed to nod. Sirius didn't wait to see it, he was heading up the stairs to do it now, taking them two at a time. Maybe, Hermione thought, Sirius figured doing it now might make Remus feel more secure here, where he didn't have his usual cellar to head back to when it came time to transform again. Or maybe it was just a courtesy that would remind Remus everyone in the house was familiar with him and his preferences.

Peeking out of his bedroom at the top of the stairs, Hermione spotted Kreacher as Sirius passed on upstairs. Goggle-eyed, the house elf was looking more than wary. Hermione was glad Remus couldn't see it. He didn't need anyone looking at him with fear right now.

Tonks was pecking kisses to Teddy's forehead, reassuring him in little whispers. For all Tonks looked like she needed that herself, it was working on Teddy. Hermione saw him lift his head from under his mother's hand and look around, curious.

'Get a surprise visit, Niffles,' Tonks murmured, swiping the drying tears off the baby's cheeks. 'You always like coming here.' Trying to sound brighter, she added, 'Get to do it well past your bedtime this time too.'

'You look like you need a hot chocolate,' Hermione said, eyeing Tonks as the witch dashed at her own tears. 'And, erm…' Hermione glanced at Remus. He'd decided to lie down on the floor, his head still bowed. 'Do you want something to drink, Remus?'

'He won't open his mouth,' Tonks said for him. 'Not with other people around.'

It was more answer than Hermione had gotten from Remus. There was a chance, too, that Remus would find it humiliating to have to lap tea out of a bowl.

'But I'd love some,' Tonks said, offering Hermione a tremulous smile. She changed her grip on a squirming Teddy. 'I'll come help you,' she went on, lowering Teddy down to the floor.

Now Remus responded. He made a warning rumble low in his throat.

'Sirius will be back in a minute,' Tonks told him. 'You can keep Teddy from the stairs until then.'

Teddy didn't look like he wanted to climb the stairs anyway. He was up on hands and knees, crawling over to his dad. Clumsy little hands grabbing into Remus's fur, Teddy started tugging himself up against Remus's side.

Tonks stepped away, only to be stilled by another warning rumble from Remus. But Sirius was already clattering back down the stairs.

Hermione was getting the sense Tonks wanted to get away from Remus for a moment. Tonks had taken another step towards the kitchen.

'Sirius,' Hermione said going with Tonks, 'did you want a hot chocolate?'

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sirius gave his nose a scratching wiggle as he looked at them.

'Nah, thanks,' he said, going over and dropping to sit cross-legged on the floor beside Remus and Teddy. 'Maybe a spoonful of peanut butter though?' he requested as he scooped Teddy up and plonked the baby on his bum right on top of Remus's back. Remus didn't even try to give Sirius a warning rumble. It wouldn't achieve anything.

Much more comfortable to leave Teddy with Sirius there, Hermione led Tonks along the corridor. While she was sure Remus could deflect Teddy from hurting himself without resorting to teeth or claws – for a short time, at least – it was both safer and, likely, peace of mind for Remus to have another pair of hands there.

Just two steps out of sight into the kitchen stairs and the tears Tonks had been keeping to a trickle broke into a storm. Though she was silent about it, Hermione saw the dam break. Again and again, Tonks was rubbing tears off her cheeks, her walk down the stairs one that was blinded as she gripped the handrail and stumbled.

Hermione revised her assumption: Tonks had wanted to get away from both Remus and Teddy so she could have a moment to stop trying to be the strong one.

Wrapping an arm around the backs of Tonks's heaving shoulders, Hermione eased her down the stairs and into the kitchen. Not wanting to speak where Remus's ears could hear, she kept her mouth shut on the stairs.

Tonks's face was a picture of misery. And it broke Hermione's heart further to see just how hard Tonks was working to keep her sobbing as quiet as possible. To keep Remus from hearing. Letting Tonks go for just a moment, Hermione swung the kitchen door gently shut. Then she wrapped her arms around Tonks and gripped the witch tight.

Tonks gave up on trying to wipe away her tears. Her fingers sunk into Hermione's top, hanging on as she howled quietly into Hermione's shoulder.

'You've always got us to come to,' Hermione whispered, giving Tonks's back a firm rub. 'No matter what. Sirius can handle Remus, and you can get a chance to not be the strong one. Don't ever feel,' Hermione went on, speaking pointedly, 'you have to do it alone.'

Tonks shuddered in Hermione's arms.

'K-know wh-what… m-my bog-gart is?'

'Is it Remus walking out again?'

Tonks clenched up, crying harder. Her confirmation was a nod against Hermione's shoulder.

'It was better before,' Hermione tried to reassure her. 'This is just an aftershock – a rough patch. It will pass. And if Remus does leave, we'll track him down.'

Tonks just cried. Hermione let her. Sometimes you just needed a damn good cry. And, slowly, Tonks's wretched sobbing slowed.

'Oh this is the l-last thing we need!' Tonks hissed, lifting her face and wiping her tears on her hand. Hermione let her shift away a little, but kept a rubbing hand on Tonks's back. 'Dementors – that fucking b-boggart – on f-full moon!' Tonks shook her head. 'He was f-fine this morning! J-just normal R-Remus – and then a-all this!'

Hermione grimaced. Like she was sure Sirius did, she regretted that boggart. They should have just left it for another day.

'How's he been?' she asked quietly.

Tonks hiccoughed.

'Like he's l-looking for a ditch to g-go lie in and wait for the r-rain.'

Hermione swallowed.

'Would…' she said, cautious. 'Would he actually do that?'

Tonks flashed a dark look at Hermione.

'You think h-he hasn't seriously considered suicide?' she said roughly. 'I've h-had to beg him not to!'

The disquiet billowed higher inside Hermione.

'Today?' she breathed.

Tonks shook her head. She squeezed more tears out of her eyes with forceful palms.

'No – thank Merlin!' She shook her head again and sniffed. 'No, not today. B-but that's not how he did it last time any-anyway. It's m-more like he just r-refuses to eat anything and h-hopes every f-full moon might kill him th-this time.'

Hermione's hand paused, briefly, on Tonks's back. Though she'd never seen him quite like that, she could believe it of Remus.

'B-but that was back d-during the w-war,' Tonks went on. 'Y-you've seen him,' she said looking at Hermione. 'He's been g-good since then. Well, m-mostly. But it's b-been great recently and I j-just – I can't g-go back there!' Tonks squeezed her eyes shut. 'W-well I will!' she asserted. 'I will, if I have t-to – but – but I j-just can't stand it! C-can't face it again! E-every time he g-gets like this,' she said gesturing forcefully in the general direction of Remus. 'F-fighting with him – t-tying to get h-him to sn-snap out of it! Again!

'And I c-can't go to mum,' Tonks ranted on. 'Sh-she already assumes he's l-like this e-even if he's not. I-it's the thing she h-hates about h-him – and he's a-already w-worried she doesn't l-like him.'

'Then come here,' Hermione said. 'We don't mind, and we won't look at Remus any differently.'

Tonks nodded, tried to smile, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Fetching her wand, Hermione Conjured a handkerchief. Tonks took it with a muffled thanks and blew her nose.

'I'm h-hoping Sirius will talk s-some sense into him for me, while I'm d-down here,' Tonks admitted, sweeping at her eyes with the handkerchief. 'S-so I don't h-have to.'

Hermione was rather hoping that too. She was pretty sure, if he felt it'd work and they had a private moment, Sirius could find some choice words for Remus.

'And i-it makes m-me upset,' Tonks went on, crumpling up the handkerchief in her fist. 'A-and he sees that – h-he knows. And he d-doesn't r-react to it in any r-rational way – like – like talking to me, or j-just eating something s-so I don't have to w-worry he's starving himself again! The m-ore he sees me upset, the m-more he just becomes sure he-he's this horrible burden o-on me – and he's n-not! When h-he's good, he's great! B-but when he's like this,' Tonks jerked a vicious hand back in the direction of Remus, 'h-he's so hard! And th-the moment he's bad he just gets worse and w-worse!'

Tonks's words gave Hermione unwelcome insight into the torment she'd so recently – and more before then – put Sirius through. She set that returning guilt aside. But she did understand what Remus was going through. Just a bit.

'A-and I c-can't break him out of it!' Tonks moaned. 'It t-took Sirius's Wolfsbane – and then winning the Gamps' Old challenge – to st-stop it in its tra-tracks the last times! He just goes more and more silent – m-more and more self-loathing. And n-nothing I can s-say to him will make him realise th-that he d-doesn't need to be! That when he's good h-he's the most amazing person!'

Tonks blew her nose again. She hiccoughed, then stood straighter and swallowed.

'And I'm worried,' she went on, 'that b-bringing him here will just make it w-worse. T-to have people see him like that – as the wolf – i-is the last thing he wants. He hates being exposed. If it w-was just Sirius, it wouldn't b-be so bad. But you, Harry, Kreacher…' Tonks shook her head. 'N-not that th-there's anything wrong with you lot – that you'd treat h-him badly or anything,' she said hastily. 'J-just that h-he's better with letting only S-Sirius see him like this.'

Hermione nodded. She wasn't offended. She could understand that easily.

'But he is here,' Hermione said, 'and he isn't bolting for the door. He's letting Sirius treat him like a dog.' That Hermione could be sure of. She hadn't heard the fight that would ensue if Remus did try to bolt. And Hermione was very certain Sirius was treating Remus like a dog. 'You've said he's gotten better and better with lots of things,' she went on, trying to be comforting. 'Sirius… was a bit like that. He'd drop into his dark moments, but they got shorter and shorter…'

The hard part with that reassurance was that Hermione knew Sirius didn't shut people out as absolutely as Remus seemed to. And Hermione couldn't reassure Tonks with her own experiences… because rather than better and better, she'd gotten worse and worse.

'And I'm sure,' Hermione pushed on, 'that Sirius is making certain upstairs isn't a sad and horrible place right now. That he's goading Remus straight back to how he was before. Maybe it won't work immediately, but it's worked before.'

In fact, Hermione hoped Sirius hadn't decided, like he had with her, that he needed to do more to let people wallow in their misery. That he was aware goading Remus was exactly what he needed to do right now.

'And Remus is here,' Hermione repeated. 'Putting up with it. Surely that's a good sign?'

Tonks sniffed, and nodded.

'I think so,' she said. 'And…' she nodded to Hermione's shoulder. 'Erm… sorry to… u-unleash on you,' she said regretfully. 'I didn't mean to…'

Hermione didn't look at her shoulder. She didn't need to to know her t-shirt was saturated to her skin with Tonks's tears. She'd dry it before they went back to Remus though.

'If it helps,' she said, rubbing Tonks's shoulder, 'I'm glad I can return the favour.' Hermione did owe Tonks a chance to sob on her shoulder. She pulled a small, reassuring smile, and went on, 'I mean it: we're always here. Don't feel you shouldn't come or unload. I don't think you shouldn't.'

Suggesting Tonks take a chance to try to cool her face at the tap, Hermione got the milk heating and found the chocolate in the pantry. She'd prepared Irish tea and a couple rich hot chocolates by the time Tonks turned from the tap and dried her face on a tea towel.

'Does it look like I've been crying?' Tonks asked.

Honestly, yes it did. It was like all the times Hermione had tried to hide a cry with cold water: it didn't really work.

She pulled a grimace that told Tonks so. Tonks just sighed, screwed up her face, and tried to morph. She didn't manage to do anything for her puffy face and pink eyes, but the waterfall of loose auburn curls she turned her hair into did make her look a little brighter.

'Only my hair changed?' she asked Hermione, checking a curl.

Hermione answered in an apologetic nod.

Tonks sighed again.

'Well,' she said, grabbing the teapot and, without comment, the tablespoon of peanut butter, 'at least I can morph that. Remus knows when I'm really upset I can't morph anything.'

Remus, Sirius, and Teddy weren't in the corridor when Hermione and Tonks returned to it. They followed the lights that were on in the sitting room and found Harry as the only human adult there. He was standing and, bemused, watching the party walking in a circle in the centre of the room.

From what Hermione could see, Sirius had goaded Remus. He'd goaded Remus right into being compliant with walking, on all fours, beside a Sirius likewise down on all four paws, as Teddy hung onto the fur on their sides and stumbled along on two feet between them.

It was better than could have been expected. Remus's head still hung lower than (the convenient canine comparison) Sirius's, but this was something Remus could have gotten out of if he'd refused.

Gratified, Hermione glanced at Tonks. The witch met her eye, and Tonks did look less desperately miserable.

'According to Sirius,' Harry supplied, 'it hurts your back less if you turn into a dog to teach a baby to walk.'

Sirius provided his concord with a soft yap.

Hermione could agree with it herself. Bending down to hold Teddy's hands as he walked made her back ache, and Sirius was a lot taller than she was. It wasn't that thought, though, that she lingered on longest. She smiled at Sirius when he met her eyes. He'd taken what had seemed a very dark situation, and turned it into a ludicrous thing to witness in the sitting room. There was a great absurdity to Sirius Hermione appreciated an enormous amount right then. Helping a depressed werewolf teach a baby to walk by turning into a dog… was just very Sirius.

And, according to Teddy, it was one of his favourite experiences. His gurgling laughter made the night seem a hundred times lighter, and put a real smile back on Tonks's face.

Gratitude spread into gratitude. Hermione found intense appreciation in how easily Tonks and Sirius, him back in human form, sat on the floor beside Remus's wolf. How they talked to him casually, even if Remus wouldn't really respond. It was an ease Hermione and, she thought, Harry could simply follow, making it all the more convincing were they to tell Remus none of them were worried about it. She was grateful, too, when Kreacher did choose to edge into the room, and though he initially stayed a further distance from Remus, it didn't take him long to move in and entertain Teddy.

'You don't need anyone to let you in,' Sirius told Remus when they finally headed up for a late bed. 'I left my mum's bedroom door open. Just shove the door closed behind you, and it's all set. I haven't done anything to fix that room up,' he added, 'so if you scratch anything, I really don't care. Buckbeak already shredded it.'

Which meant, if Remus did claw anything, it wouldn't even stand out. He'd be shielded by more than the Silencing Charm on the room: he could do it on his own and his ordeal would not be noticed.

Remus made a soft noise of either acknowledgement or gratitude. Tonks held the door of the bedroom they shared at Number 12 open for him. Shooting them a last smile, and another thanks, she swung the door shut, but didn't latch it. So, Hermione guessed, Remus could get out easily at moonset.

Despite the late night, Hermione woke neatly at six the next morning. She'd woken expecting to hear something, for all she knew Sirius's Silencing Charm would keep all sounds of Remus's transformation within that upstairs room.

'Do you think he's okay?' she asked worriedly, having shut the door after poking an ear out to check for anything – like the sounds of Tonks sobbing. But for people moving about, the house was silent.

'He'll be fine,' Sirius said. It was a short reassurance, but Hermione believed Sirius knew what he was talking about.

She snagged a pair of shoes from her wardrobe and sat to pull them on.

'You did talk to him last night?' she asked.

'Mm.' Sirius nodded. He met Hermione's querying gaze, but didn't tell her what he'd said to Remus. 'He let all of us be with him while he was the wolf, Hermione,' he said instead. 'That is something he's never done before. He's gone from never even letting people see the scars – beyond those he can't conceal – to sitting with us as the wolf. Sure he's struggling with it. But if he can do that, after yesterday, then he'll be fine.'

It was a perspective Hermione was distracted by long enough to not realise until she'd spent a good few minutes trying unsuccessfully to shove her foot into her shoe. She pulled her foot free and frowned down at her shoe. It looked just as it always had. When was the last time she'd tried to wear it?

Her gaze shifting to her foot, Hermione squinted at it.

'Sirius,' she said, perturbed, lifting her foot up, 'does my foot look bigger to you?'

It took Sirius a second, then he leant over the bed, very deliberately, to evaluate her foot closely. He did it for long enough that Hermione truly believed he was scrutinising it.

'Nope,' he responded.

'Is that a "no" like how you pretended you'd never noticed the pimples on my shoulders?'

'Nope,' Sirius said again. He shot her a grin. 'I did notice that they've gone away.'

'You did notice them!'

Sirius chuckled, sitting back up.

'Because you pointed them out!'

'So – I'm pointing out my feet now.' Hermione twisted around to follow him with her eyes as he got up. 'Are they bigger? Honestly?'

Sirius fetched his boots from his own wardrobe. He turned an amused look at her over his shoulder.

'How am I supposed to tell,' he said, 'whether your feet have gone up a size just by looking at them?'

'You can tell my boobs have gotten bigger.'

'Yeah, well…' Sirius laughed, his eyes crinkling sweetly. 'I pay far more attention to those.'

Turning her back on him, Hermione bent down to undo her shoes' laces.

'And,' Sirius added behind her, with emphatic appreciation, 'your boobs have about tripled in size.'

He was ready for it when Hermione launched to grab a pillow and flung it at his head. Laughing harder, he caught it and tossed it back onto the bed.

Making a mental note to buy new shoes as well as clothes, Hermione led the way down to breakfast in too-tight trainers, leggings, and a repeat of the previous day's outfit, as she hadn't much choice when it came to clothes.

Remus and Tonks were both there, Teddy looking sleepy on Tonks's lap. One of them had evidently gone home to pick up some essentials. They were all dressed in fresh clothes and Remus was at the worktop, downing his way through several unpleasant-looking remedial potions. He did look up at them as Hermione and Sirius entered, and, though he still looked withdrawn, he didn't avoid eye contact.

It wasn't just that that made Hermione smile back at him. For all the potions were pricey, and likely tasted revolting, they were what would keep Remus comfortable, his body functional, for as long as possible. That he was diligently taking them boded well. And, Hermione noticed, he was dressed not in wizards' robes, but in his patched tweed coat and trousers. So he was not only looking after himself, he was coming with them to a hopefully enjoyable day out in Muggle freedom.

He did apologise, in general, and took Hermione's dismissal of it with a mild nod. And when he sat at the table with a single piece of toast and a cup of tea, he took over spooning breakfast into Teddy's mouth and ate… well, only about half his toast. But it all looked, to Hermione, like he was trying. And that, Tonks, her hair pink and smiling back at him, was all anyone could ask.

Sitting at the table, Hermione had a moment to recognise: she felt fine. Still oddly warm. Not in the way of a hot flush, but in a way that had her skin almost prickling, like she could feel it trying to emanate heat. Partly because of that, she still felt strange – still somewhat off. But between her elixir and breakfast, the slight queasiness she'd woken with abated to ignorable levels.

And another part of her mood: Hermione felt more than ready to do something. To get back into the action, take a stand, and stop being so silent and hidden. She retrieved her notes from where she'd left them last night in the sitting room and had the portkey to the Lovegoods' ready for when Sirius came upstairs.

Luna and Xenophilius were the same as ever. Peaceful and bearing easy smiles, they offered everything from tea to the peculiar purple juice Hermione left Sirius to try.

Having not seen the reporter for a while, Hermione's first impression of Skeeter was surprise at just how shockingly normal she looked. Free from her flashy business robes, Rita Skeeter was standing in the Lovegoods' kitchen, making herself a coffee, in an old dressing gown. Gone were the jewelled glasses. Instead, Skeeter eyed Hermione through a simple set of spectacles, her hair tied up and now mostly brown, and her face held not a scraping of her usual caking of makeup. Greeting the witch, Hermione felt rather as though she'd caught Skeeter in an indecent state of undress.

Taking the teacup cheerfully offered by Xenophilius, Hermione followed Skeeter up to her bedroom, leaving Sirius to attempt to work out whether he liked the purple juice. He, understandably, did not wish to spend long in close proximity to Skeeter.

Skeeter's bedroom turned out to be at the top of the house, she and Hermione passing printing-cum-rumpus room and a landing with two doors on the way up. Skeeter's room was sparse and tidy in a way that set it apart from the fantastic hodge-podge of odd collectors' items that gave the rest of the house undeniable character.

The Lovegoods hadn't left Skeeter's room entirely without their charm, however. Luna, it appeared, had been given leniency to dress the walls up with a glorious artwork that stretched right the way around the circular space. Swirls and gleaming dottings of gold tied the disjointed images of the mural together into a cohesive piece. It looked like some kind of fantastical dreamscape: agleam street lamps, their posts whirling away along the painting in distorted whimsy; flickering candles floating amidst blustery depictions of wind-borne autumn leaves; two cherubic characters, their faces set in heads that looked like acorns, hats included, floating along in a raft made of another leaf; and soaring nuthatches, two of them, in their curled toes hanging delicate chains from which dangled, for one, a plumbob pendant, the other a brilliant silver ornament reminiscent of a dreamcatcher.

Hermione had stopped to look, her eyes picking out more images in the brilliant mural. Skeeter, disinterested in Hermione's fascination, had stepped across the room and plonked herself – quite ungracefully – in a seat at the table set just before a window. The witch turned a dispassionate look of expectancy on Hermione.

Pulling herself away from the mural, Hermione made her to join Skeeter. There was no second chair. Hermione dismissed the impoliteness and Conjured herself one, inviting herself to sit with Skeeter. More out of curiosity as to how the beverage tasted than any need to appear gracious to her hosts, Hermione took a sip of the tea. Just normal tea, she decided, though it did have a hint of cucumber.

Setting the cup aside, she returned her attention to Skeeter and caught the witch looking placidly out the window, coffee cup cradled in both hands. The serenity in the sight, Skeeter washed with the soft light of a young morning, gave Hermione pause.

'It's a great view,' Skeeter said quietly, speaking over the rim of her coffee cup.

And Hermione hadn't heard Skeeter call either of the Lovegoods any derogatory name while they'd been downstairs. For a moment, Hermione felt she was looking at a complete stranger, and actually had a second of concern that, just maybe, Skeeter had changed enough to be incapable, now, of writing the articles they wanted her to.

More optimistically, Hermione really hoped this was a sign that the Lovegoods, as well as the unusual sabbatical they'd forced Skeeter into, had taught the woman an ounce of humanity.

She cleared her throat.

'We were hoping,' Hermione said, her tone far more kindly than any she'd ever used with Skeeter before, 'you would consent to begin writing articles for us again.'

Hermione waited. Rather than answer the question, Skeeter spoke to the view outside.

'Is there any chance I will get to write, any time soon, the two exclusives you promised me months ago?'

'… I sincerely hope so,' Hermione responded, meaning it for her own reasons. She'd love Umbridge out and Kingsley in tomorrow.

Skeeter took a slow, slurping sip of coffee.

'It will be three articles, to begin with,' Hermione went on. 'One on the Border, one on the Dementors, and one on the Dragon Pox outbreak: the real news, as we know it.'

Skeeter didn't react at all. She took another sip of coffee.

'Do you know,' she said, quite conversationally, to the window, 'that rather than soap, Potty and Cuckoo clean clothing with some potion heavy on the tomato juice and egg yolks?'

'Erm…' Hermione frowned. 'Does it work?'

Skeeter disregarded her. She went on.

'That on full moons they dance together for the good health of werewolves everywhere?'

Hermione found that rather endearing, actually.

'That Monsieur Plimpy-Brain bathes his feet nightly in a decoction that smells like twenty-day-old frog corpses?'

Hermione wondered how far such a decoction went to explaining the curious smell in the kitchen.

'That Plimpy-Brain the Younger spends hours in the attic waving earrings about?' Skeeter had set her coffee cup down on the table and was rotating it musingly on the spot. 'Or that she makes a potion for adult acne from the spines of something called a "Blibbering Humdinger"?'

As the house was still standing, Hermione had to assume that whatever those spines were, they weren't dangerous.

Skeeter turned, finally, to look at Hermione.

'That potion actually does work,' she said mildly.

'Oh…' Hermione said stupidly. 'It, erm… does?'

'Yes.' Skeeter caught up her coffee and gulped two big mouthfuls of it. In the light, Hermione could see the scars of bad acne on Skeeter's un-blushered cheeks. 'If I help you,' Skeeter said, suddenly much shrewder and more herself, the coffee cup smacking down onto the table, 'what's the likelihood I'll be out of here within the month and able to buy back my luxury condo – with its shower – before the next blue moon?'

'Much higher than it would be if you didn't help us,' Hermione said smartly.

Skeeter eyed her, then gave an unladylike snort.

'I see.' Skeeter tapped the fingers of one hand on the table. Without their rouged talons the sound was a tolerable soft pum-pum-pum rather than the clickety-clack of fingernails. 'I will do it,' she said finally.

'Oh good.'

Skeeter waved a hand.

'If,' she added incisively, 'you also promise me full coverage of all your coup d'etat operations. I want the full story of how the puny force of do-gooders managed to overthrow the Ministry.'

'You appear to have a good deal of faith in the imminent success of our "puny group of do-gooders",' Hermione said loftily.

A sly smile creased one side of Skeeter's lips.

'You lot always manage it,' she said. 'It's very heartening,' she went on facetiously, 'good winning out over evil.'

And it'd make a good story, Hermione expected. All the same, though, Skeeter hadn't asked for exclusive coverage of their activities if, indeed, they did manage to win out against the Ministry. They could always give interviews to more objective reporters as well, if Skeeter embellished a bit too much. It was currently a moot point anyway.

'You already know more than any other reporter,' Hermione said. 'And you'll be better positioned to learn more than anyone else who could write it.' She fetched out her notes and unfolded them on the table. 'Write this,' she said, sliding the notes over, 'and you'll already be the only reporter on the inside writing the real news.'

Hermione's notes were snatched out from under her hand.

'I need a "yes" Miss Prissy,' Skeeter muttered as her eyes scanned through the first page.

Hermione scowled.

'You'll get your interviews,' she said. 'But,' she added, 'for all articles written for The Quibbler, I get final approval. Everything you write, you send to me for editing. They don't get published without my say so.'

Skeeter paused her reading to send Hermione a malevolent look over the parchments. She had no chance to disagree, however, and it'd make sure Skeeter wrote it, likely the first time, the way Hermione wanted it.

'You'll do it,' Hermione said, getting up. 'You know your best shot at getting the inside scoop is by sticking with us.' She nodded to the notes. 'Owl the articles to me this evening then.'

Hermione left her Conjured chair pushed in under the table. Maybe Luna would want to sit and chat with Skeeter in her room sometime.

Hermione was just turning to go when the witch asked curiously, 'Why aren't you dead yet?'

Turning back slowly, Hermione narrowed her eyes at the reporter. Truthfully, though, Skeeter hadn't asked it with malevolence. She looked to really be waiting for an answer.

'Frankly,' Hermione answered, 'I don't think I've caused enough trouble for them to organise and take me out. Yet,' she added meaningfully.

Skeeter accepted this with a placid hum. Hermione turned away again, only to be stopped by another question from Skeeter. This one lighter on the curiosity, Skeeter sounding like she already knew the answer.

'And why is The Prophet warning people about vampires when vampire populations in this country have been at a record low for the past fifty years?'

Hermione had heard about that only in passing. It wasn't news that mattered much to the Order.

'Because,' Hermione said, turning back once again, 'they are hoping to divert the attentions of gullible people from the real news by making up rubbish.'

Hermione could already envision Skeeter penning the line "raises questions as to why the Ministry feels the need to warn of vampire attacks when the threat of Dementors is already well recognised in the north". Hermione wouldn't edit that line out.

'Well Maryanne,' Skeeter mocked in a low voice, 'if the Ministry says it's vampires, it's vampires! And I don't care what your Auntie Bonnie says, anything that sucks blood from a living person just isn't right!'

Briefly, Hermione wondered at Skeeter's contempt for such a person, considering that was exactly Skeeter's target audience the vast majority of the time.

'It's lamentably easy for people to ignore the injustices around them when they can shut it out of their sitting rooms,' Hermione said staunchly.

Skeeter shrugged.

'The public have always been stupid little sheep,' she said. 'Why else do you think media is such big business? It is deliciously easy to manipulate people.

'Start an article off with the headline about concerns merpeople are taking over the Lake District,' Skeeter went on, gleeful, 'ruining holidays. Spend a couple paragraphs wallowing in people's fear and hate, to appease all those who will read only the first two paragraphs. Then pretend to be objective, in the rest of the article, by reporting that there's no evidence beyond two dubious witness reports, and merpeople aren't known to live in the area.' Skeeter cast Hermione a shrewd look. 'It sells,' she told her. 'Turn people against each other, reinforce their viewpoints both ways with one article: they'll all want to read more news about it in an ongoing search to confirm their bias.'

Skeeter had been watching Hermione's face. She snickered.

'Ah,' she said, affecting wistfulness, 'the indignation and idealism of youth. You'll grow out of it.'

Hermione straightened her back.

'Anything you write for us,' she repeated irritably, 'you have to put past me.'