Dom glared at the page in front of her on the computer screen. Two measly bullet points stared back at her:

- Bomsnox missing from Wizengamot

- Secretary says he's in poor health, but he was seen at a Quidditch game just last week

Was it enough? She was about to pitch what was probably her hundredth attempt at getting herself put on an investigative story. She had tried every angle. What was one more failure after all of that? Dom hopped to her feet and pushed her desk chair in. Now or never.

Striding through the rows of newsroom cubicles and long tables, she felt slightly sick to her stomach. For a brief moment, she wished that she knew how to turn on the Veela charm the same way her sister did. But she banished that thought immediately. That had been tried, and that had failed.

"Where are you heading off to?" Lysander's loud voice broke into her panicked thoughts. He fell into step beside her, tracing the path up to the editor-in-chief's office.

I definitely don't need this right now. "Leave me alone."

A smug grin fixed itself on his handsome face. "Ah, off to pitch another story, are you?"

Determined to ignore him, she stopped at Barnabas Cuffe's office door and waited just a moment.

"Are you planning to knock, or should I do that for you?" Lysander inquired, leaning jauntily against the wall beside the door.

She steeled herself and turned to face him. "I'm only going to ask you once. Step away from the door. You might get everything you want around here, and you might've beaten me at Hogwarts by the skin of your teeth. But if I tell you to leave me the hell alone, then you damn well had better listen."

His hazel eyes widened, as if for a brief second he had actually been caught off-guard. Rather than shoot back a witty remark like she expected him to, Lysander stepped away from the door and said quietly, "Best of luck."

Not wasting a moment to reflect on the fact that she had just lost her temper at him again after he was incredibly annoying again, Dom forced herself to quit stalling and rapped quickly on the door to the editor's office.

"Yeah, what is it?"

She pushed into the wide room and swallowed hard. This never got any easier.

"Dominique, what is it? How can I help you?" Barnabas Cuffe muttered in a flurry of words, papers flying from his hands as she shut the door behind her. "Don't tell me it's another story idea."

Dom gave him an apologetic shrug.

Cuffe let out an elongated sigh. "Okay, let's get this over with, doll."

This time, it's gotta work. It has to. She settled herself onto the edge of a chair, afraid to get too comfortable. "The Head of Magical Law Enforcement hasn't been to a Wizengamot meeting in over two months."

He still looked irritated, but he hadn't yelled at her yet. That was a good sign.

"His secretary claims he's ill, but he was seen at a Quidditch game just last week," she added.

"And you've spoken to his secretary directly?" Cuffe inquired.

Dom gave a short nod.

He leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head. For a second she thought she saw that frustrated look coming, the one that would send her scrambling from his office once again and back to her secluded Cubicle of Doom. But instead, he simply furrowed his brow. "Interesting."

That had to have been the most wonderful word Dom had heard in her entire life. But the victory lasted only for a moment, vanishing seconds later when Cuffe bellowed, "Scamander, get in here!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Lysander appeared in the room, calmly striding toward the desk, as if he had been outside with his ear pressed to the door, just waiting for their editor to call his name. "What's up, boss?"

He just casually says 'what's up?' to Cuffe? she squawked internally.

"Miss Weasley here tells me Bomsnox has been gone from the Wizengamot for months. How did you miss this?" Cuffe snapped.

For the second time in the past five minutes, Lysander actually looked somewhat chastened. "I hadn't heard."

Cuffe rolled his eyes. "That much is evident. If we get beaten to this story I'm going to be livid. Dominique, tell this foolish young man what you just told me."

Clearing her throat quickly, Dom turned to face him. He placed his hands on the back edge of the chair beside her and gave her an expectant look.

"His secretary was being pretty dodgy. Said he was ill, and wouldn't answer me when I told her he'd been seen at a Quidditch match last week," Dom told him, unable to stop a slightly smug smile from creeping onto her face.

Lysander's gaze flicked away from her fast. "Don't worry, boss, I'm on it." He turned to go.

"Wait just a minute." Cuffe's small eyes traveled from his young investigative reporter to the nervous looking girl before him. "You two are working together on this."

"What?!" both Dom and Lysander yelled simultaneously.

Her blue eyes snapped to meet his hazel, but he was staring aghast at their editor.

"You heard me. Dominique brought the story to me and she deserves a shot at investigating. You bring her with you, let her ask a few questions."

Lysander's brows shot upwards and he shook his head furiously. "No, absolutely not. This could be a big story. I'm not letting a kid trail around with me."

Dom rolled her eyes. "We graduated from the same class at Hogwarts, Lysander, I'm hardly a kid."

"See, there you have it. You two will make a great team." Cuffe smiled placidly.

"You've got to be kidding me," Lysander groaned, loosening his tie in frustration.

Before Dom's grin got too out of control, though, Cuffe faced her. "And you. Listen to Scamander here. He's in charge. This is your first real story, so don't go thinking you're some expert, and don't screw this up. This doesn't mean anything permanent."

Her heart dropped a little at his words, but being put on this story was more than she could've hoped for already so she didn't speak up.

Cuffe picked up a group of papers and went back to shuffling through them. "I want a preliminary story ready to run by Friday. Get out of here."

Not even sparing a glance at her, Lysander turned and strode from the room. Dom rose from her chair and prepared to follow him, but Cuffe spoke again. "Don't let him get to you. He's not a bad guy deep down," the man told her with a wink.

Dom very much doubted that. Years of trying to beat Lysander in school had gotten her closer to him than she wanted to be, and he had never revealed anything deeper than a massive ego and a penchant for making fun her failures. And now her very first real story depended on his help. Giving Cuffe a brief smile and a "thanks, boss," she hurried after her new partner.

"So what're we doing first?" she asked, taking three long steps to try and catch up with his quick strides.

He wheeled to face her. "We aren't doing anything. This is my story and you're tagging along. I'll let you know if I need coffee."

Dom's mouth dropped open. He stalked down the aisle of the newsroom and entered his office, which was positioned on the far wall in the row of investigative offices. I am not about to let him do this, she told herself angrily, and stormed after him, wedging herself through the quickly closing door and following him to his desk.

"Get out of here, Dominique," he muttered tiredly.

"I'm not leaving until we talk. I realize you think you're better than me because you barely squeaked ahead of me in school for seven years. I realize you have a great job and you're a boy wonder and you don't need me on this story. But this is my one chance to impress Cuffe and get promoted from my stupid personal advice column." Her blue eyes were wide and little wisps of red-blonde hair escaped her ponytail.

Lysander arched a dark eyebrow. "So what. You might need me, but I don't need you."

Dom set her jaw. "That's what you think." She glanced around the little office and noticed stacks of paper strewn everywhere, uncapped pens littering the top of his desk, boxes stacked haphazardly in the corner. "I'm as organized as it gets, I remember details, I can be invisible when you need me to be, and best of all, I got you this story. That has to count for something."

He eyed her thoughtfully, sinking into his desk chair. "You're not taking the lead. No way."

"I don't want the lead, Lysander." She bit her tongue and forced out her next words. "I want to learn from you. Maybe Cuffe's right, we could make a good team."

Lysander let out a sharp laugh. "We're not going to be a team. But I'll let you tag along. You're in charge of the paperwork; I'll deal with the people skills. We leave for the Ministry first thing tomorrow morning. Finish your little paragraph of relationship advice and be ready to go."

Gritting her teeth, she watched him for a moment, weighing the value of starting another fight. Not worth it. She would pick her battles. But she was going to win the war.