Chapter 4: Another Skeeter?
Mrs. Pill's door slammed shut in Hermione's face on the first of the month on that bright sunny morning. She had just handed in her first rent check, but it had not been an easy feat to let go of that envelope.
" We heard yelling," said Ron when Hermione stepped into the flat. Harry and him were setting the table.
" She miscounted at first and got real angry. I thought she was right and nearly had a heart attack." Hermione leaned her back against the door, sighing. " And then she went off on how much noise we're always making."
Harry rolled his eyes. " We walk on tiptoe up here."
" Too true. That lady's mad," Ron inquired. She set the fork down and clapped. " Let's eat."
Hermione had used the stove to cook a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. They seated themselves in their chairs.
" So Harry, how are the Butterbeer negotiations coming?" Hermione asked. Mealtime had habitually become the time for small talk among the three.
" Alright, I suppose. There's photo shoot today for the Ballycastle Bats, I heard. It'll be in the Daily Prophet - they'll all be holding butterbeers in their hands."
Ron scooped a mound of scrambled eggs onto his plate. " When're you gonna get us Quidditch tickets, Harry?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry laughed. " When I can," he answered. " With the negotiations, I don't even have time to go to a Quidditch match."
" I think you should just do Quidditch for a living, Harry. I reckon you could!" Ron told him excitedly.
" You know," said Hermione, spearing the bacon with her fork, " People who play sports are much healthier than those who don't. They have a slower average pulse rate."
" Quidditch players get loads more galleons too," Ron added. " And everybody'd want you – you're Harry Potter. You were practically a Quidditch legend back at Hogwarts." Ron had kept the bitterness in his tone negligible.
" I don't know yet," Harry answered. He was almost desperate to change the topic. Him? A Quidditch player? It was an insane prospect, one he only considered in his fantasies. He knew that, as Ron had said, many would encourage this ambition. However, others believed that he was fit for even greater, better things. Harry found he was so caught up in all this that he had lost his own desires in the process.
" I have to get to work now," said Hermione, interrupting Harry's thoughts. He hadn't noticed how quickly she had eaten, and was vaguely reminded of the many times back in their Hogwarts days when Hermione had devoured her food in order to get to the library as soon as possible.
Ron must have been thinking along the same line. He checked his watch. " You still have an hour. Honestly, Hermione, could you give yourself a break?"
Hermione was pulling on her shoes at the door. " I'm just not careless when it comes to work," she answered, and although she had not directed the statement at anybody in particular, Ron's eyes narrowed.
She called goodbye and swept out the door, though Harry saw her struggle with her giant bulk of a bag. He had known her too long to not know she was up to something.
" She left her Apparating license," said Ron, pointing to the small card on the countertop. " If she gets caught, she's gonna be in trouble for sure."
" She doesn't Disapparate to work anyway," Harry pointed out. Hermione had always told them she hated Apparating into Diagon Alley because it was so crowded and she never had control over who she'd Apparate right into.
" She shouldn't walk all the way to Diagon Alley carrying all those heavy books," Ron said. His gaze was still on the license.
She puts a spell on them to lighten her load, Ron, don't worry."
Ron simply nodded and went back to eating his food.
" I guess I should leave too then," Harry said, standing up.
" What? What is it with you two?"
Harry grimaced. " Sorry Ron." He left his plate on the table and went to get his bag containing his files.
" What is this? Don't leave your mess to me!" Ron gestured toward the uneaten food on Harry's plate.
Harry opened the door. " It's your turn to do the dishes." He stepped outside and shut the door as he called to his unfortunate roommate, " Have a nice day!"
* * * * *
With his roommates gone, and a pile of dirty dishes stacked in the sink, Ron opened up the Daily Prophet.
The headlines had grown considerably unexciting since the Dark Lord's descent. Whatever news reminding the Daily Prophet's readers of such horrible times were obviously being covered up. And that very morning, Ron, as well as the rest of the literate wizards of witches of the magical world, were to be satisfied with "Wizard Charged With Setting Inappropriate Charms on Chickens" and "House- Elf in Greenwich Caught Stealing".
Ron hastily flipped to the Jobs section and was greeted with many small "Wanted" ads – one for wanting strong wizards who are willing to risk their lives to test several potions on (for 50 galleons/hour), one for a designer job for a company that makes clothes for Goblins (for 12 galleons/hour), and one to clean the locker rooms at England's National Quidditch Stadium (for 8 galleons an hour). Ron certainly did not find any of these appealing, nor anything else listed.
He sighed and turned the pages back to the front. He folded up the paper and placed it back on the counter. Then, something caught his eye – the name, 'Skeeter'. Rita, having been so threatened by Hermione's knowledge of her being Animagi, had promised to keep her quill down until she was to die (as sadistic as that was, it was true).
As a lightening reflex, Ron picked up the paper and held it to his nose, his eyes wide in consternation. There, on the front page was a large article (about the chickens) written by " 20-year-old reporter, Laurel Skeeter".
" Wha --- ?"
Was it just a coincidence? It had never occurred to Ron (or anyone he knew, for that matter) that Rita Skeeter had ever had children. It hadn't even crossed his mind that Rita had ever married. For in Ron's mind, who in the world would marry and have a child with such a –
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
Ron strode across the living room and swung open the door. Placed in front of him was a large box, taped neatly at the openings with what he recognized as Extra-Strength Spellotape. The package was, thusly, sent by somebody magical.
Ron tried to pick up the box, but it was so heavy he felt his arms would rip off his body. He went on its other side and gave it a swift kick towards the inside of the flat, but that simply resulted in excruciating pain in his toe.
He ended up levitating the box with his wand, but even that took so much strain, magically, that he dropped the box on the living room floor with a thunderous bang. As he expected, Mrs. Pill's irritated and shouting voice was heard through the floor.
Ron shut the door (quietly) and approached the mysterious package. The top was scrawled with the address of the flat and was addressed to "Miss Hermione Granger".
" Books," Ron muttered, giving the side of the box a soft kick.
* * * * *
The Ballycastle Bats came into the Magical Games and Sports office that afternoon when Harry was still poring over documents.
The rowdy Irishmen were yelling their greetings to people around the office, and when Ludo Bagman came in, they grew louder than ever. Harry had to admit that having that lot around made the working atmosphere considerably more cheerful.
Harry looked out the window, and for some reason, expected to see another flick of red. But the crowd below was just the top of a few pointed hats.
" Hey Harry!"
Harry looked up to see the cheerful face of Seamus.
" 'Lo Seamus," he answered wearily. " What's up?"
" Scrimmaged against Puddlemere United yesterday," he stated, " and I saw Oliver Wood. He sure was eager to see you when I told him you worked here."
" How is he?" Harry asked, recalling the obsessive, maniacal Oliver he knew back at Hogwarts.
Seamus laughed. " Still the same. Worse, actually."
Somebody with a thick Irish accent shouted for Seamus to come, so the two said their goodbyes and Harry went back to his documents.
Had Harry looked out the window again, he would've seen Ginny approach the Ministry building reticently, and seen her pace back and forth by the door before running into the building.
Merely minutes after this happened, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder, and was this time greeted by his roommate's red-haired sister.
" Lunch?" she asked in a quiet voice. She was smiling slightly.
Harry accepted her offer gladly, although he was rather confused as to what exactly had compelled Ginny to be so friendly with him all of a sudden. Ginny herself was unsure of this as well – she had never felt so brave and uninhibited as she did now.
They stepped out of the office together (after suspicious eyes of Harry's co-workers had followed Ginny's every move). " Nice of you to ask me to lunch now," Harry told Ginny. " I wasn't even thinking about eating with all the work I've got to do."
" No problem," she said. " I was actually in the area."
This was partly true, as she had been searching for possible places where she could get a job. Ginny knew the Ministry rarely hired fresh-out-of-Hogwarts people or anybody without some sort of prior job experience. She had her mind set on working in one of the stores in Diagon Alley, because the summer months were usually busy and she'd make a decent amount of money this way.
Unlike Ron had been a year ago, Ginny was keen on leaving the Burrow and heading out on her own. Mrs. Weasley, who had persisted on getting Ron out of the house, was on the contrary rather saddened that Ginny was moving out right away.
They walked out of the Ministry building and into Diagon Alley, which was hot and sunny.
" Where do you usually go for lunch?" Ginny asked Harry.
" Usually? I go to the Leaky Cauldron for a sandwich, but … "
He stopped short when he saw Hermione come out of Flourish and Blotts, looking somewhat surly. Harry called to her.
She seemed distracted, but greeted Harry and Ginny with a tired wave.
" Ginny? What are you doing here?" She didn't sound suspicious, but pleased.
Ginny grinned. " We were just out to get lunch." Hermione noted a hint of pride in Ginny's voice. But then again, the pride was well deserved. How many years had it taken for Ginny to sum up the courage to even speak to Harry? " Do you want to come?"
" Oh, I'm sorry. I can't. I was just on my way home … I was expecting a package." Hermione grinned. "You two should go have fun without me."
Harry pointed to the small alley behind Gladrag's. " You can Disapparate from there. It's nice and secluded."
Hermione nodded, then bade them goodbye. She continued to look rather distracted.
" What's up with her?" Ginny asked, noticing her behavior had been slightly off.
" I dunno," Harry answered truthfully. He shrugged. " She's Hermione. She's almost always up to something."
Ludo Bagman leaned out of the window in front of Harry's desk and could see the figures of Ginny and Harry in the near distance. He was displeased to see the way both seemed to be enjoying themselves. Another disappointment was the way Hermione had left them so quickly.
His secretary joined him at the window. " I dunno, Ludo. It looks like you'll be owing me some gold!"
As she trotted off jovially back to her desk, Ludo clenched his fist on the windowsill as he watched Ginny touch Harry's arm. He had lost a ridiculous amount of gold when he bet against Puddlemere United in the semi-finals two months ago (how in the world was he to know about their new Keeper's strange but effective strategies?). He thought betting on the prospect of a romantic relationship between Harry and Hermione was a successful way to win back the lost gold (sure, he had been rather tipsy at the time, but as he always thought, those were the times he thought most clearly!). His plan, however, was slowly deteriorating, and before he knew it, his Gringotts account would be emptied of everything but air and his life in ruins like Miss Havisham's wedding cake.
Harry and Ginny disappeared into the crowd before Ludo could think of a way to stop them.
* * * * *
Hermione reached the flat mere seconds after she Disapparated. She climbed the stairs in the building and readjusted the heavy strap of her bag that was cutting into her shoulder. She paused at the door to take a breath and half hoped to find Ron thumbing through the Jobs section of the Daily Prophet, or tying an application to the leg of an owl.
She opened the door, but was greeted by Ron lying on the sofa – a scene she had become too familiar with. He was, as she expected, reading Hogwarts, A History.
" You're home early," he stated blatantly, barely lifting his eyes from the page.
A bit insulted by his indifference to her presence, Hermione answered stiffly, " I'm on my lunch break. I'll leave very soon."
Ron looked up from his book and saw Hermione looking around the flat. " That package came for you," he said, pointing to it.
" Oh, there it is. Good. Thank you for bringing it in – it's important." Hermione said nothing else and Ron made no inquiries.
" You know," said Ron, " I haven't eaten any lunch yet. Have you?"
Hermione shook her head.
" Well let's eat something now." Ron closed the book and sat up. " How much time to you have?"
" Nearly an hour," Hermione answered promptly. " I can eat lunch with you, sure." She said the latter with a smile.
Ron, with sufficient help from Hermione, conjured up enough food for the two of them, and they sat down at the table.
" Did you know," started Ron, stuffing potatoes into his mouth, " Rita Skeeter has a son – Laurel Skeeter or something like that."
Hermione chewed her food and looked at Ron thoughtfully. " Really?" She swallowed and seemed pensive for a moment. " She never mentioned it. How did you find out?"
Ron told her about the newspaper article he had inadvertently seen that morning. Hermione shrugged and went back to her food. " I didn't know that. And if this Laurel is writing about chickens, he really hasn't got much to gossip about, does he? I guess we won't have to worry too much about him."
Ron nodded. He certainly hoped so.
Hermione speared the sausage on her plate. " So … "
" I looked through the Jobs section this morning. I couldn't find anything," said Ron, his tone somewhat bland.
Feeling rather guilty, Hermione nodded. " Actually, I was wondering --,"
" Yeah?"
" – if you've learned anything interesting from Hogwarts, A History."
Ron laughed. " Oh yeah, loads. Did you know you can't Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts grounds?"
And the rest of the lunch went rather pleasantly.
* * * * *
A/N: Looks like Ludo won't be so lucky again … or will he?
Reference to Miss Havisham can be found in this chapter and she is respective 'property' of Mr. Charles Dickens.