The silence was gratingly painful. Dominique stared down at the floor. The high-pitched ringing in her ears was driving her insane. Just say something already! she screamed internally, positive that in a moment she would lose control and scream it aloud instead.
"This is, without a doubt, the most utter failure I have ever presided over in decades as editor of this esteemed newspaper," Cuffe bit out in icy-cold syllables. Rather than flying into a rage as he usually did, veins in his temples popping, he eyed them both with frightening calm. His fingers clutched the edge of the desk, knuckles turning purple. "Scooped. By. The. Quibbler."
Dom's breath seemed to be caught in her throat and incapable of budging, either in or out. She watched the vein on Cuffe's forehead pulsate slowly, saw his right eye begin to twitch.
"Many things have happened to me in my career with the Prophet," Cuffe continued, his voice calm, with just the slightest hint of a shaky note. "I was the first reporter to break the news that the Dark Lord had returned. I reported on the Battle of Hogwarts, the deaths, the final victory, the painful aftermath of rebuilding the Wizarding World."
He gripped the desk even more tightly, eyes trained directly on Lysander, whose jaw was set in a hard line.
"One could say I've seen it all. But never, not once, have I seen the Quibbler scoop us. Sure, they've printed wild and ridiculous claims before. In fact they seem to make a business out of doing just that on a regular basis. But for them to print something like this letter, something that so flagrantly disproves our lead investigative story, is absolutely unheard of, unimaginable!"
"Let me explain–" Lysander cut in. Dom could tell from the look on his face that he had been holding back words during their editor's entire tirade.
"Silence!" Cuffe bellowed. "There is no explanation to excuse this. Nothing could justify allowing something like this to happen."
Dom wanted desperately to chance a quick look at Lysander, but by this point, she was too afraid even to open her eyes.
Crash! Something shattered against the office door, shards flying at them. Dom felt the sharp sting as little slivers of glass pierced the back of her arm, and she couldn't hold in a little gasp.
"Did you say something, Weasley?" Cuffe roared at her, finally losing his cool. "I didn't hear you!"
Dom forced herself to flick her eyes upward and found that Cuffe had stalked around his desk and was standing mere inches away, deathly pale face glaring down at her.
"I–" Her voice froze in her throat.
"You have ruined the reputation of this newspaper," he hissed. "And, more importantly, you have dragged my name into the mud. Turned my success and hard work into nothing in the eyes of the entire wizarding community." His voice was level again, as if he hadn't just thrown a glass paperweight across the room, right past their heads, and into his office door.
He whirled on a dime to face Lysander, who was looking out the window with an almost wistful gaze.
"She's an absolute nobody!" he shouted. "You knew that from the start. I told you as much. I tried to save your neck and take her off this story when she bungled it the first time. But you vouched for her." Their editor's voice rose to a sing-song. "You put your name on the line. Well, now it's time to pay the piper."
Dom felt her face burn with shame.
"How dare you let her jeopardize the reputation of this paper over a useless story?" Cuffe yelled. "You, of all my reporters, should've known better!"
Lysander didn't even meet their boss's eyes but continued staring out the window, almost as if he wasn't standing there at all.
The deadly silence was back now. And then, as if animated by some new spirit, Cuffe began to chuckle, a harsh, biting sound that bounced through the room. "Why would I expect anything less from the son of an animal researcher and a crackpot conspiracy theorist?" he exhaled through bursts of laughter.
Lysander's hazel eyes flashed to life. "Don't talk about my parents like that," he growled. "I understand that I let you down. I will take full responsibility for that. But you leave my family out of it."
"Your family is the reason we're in this bloody mess!" Cuffe shouted, pushing Lysander hard in the chest, his burly strength an advantage despite the younger man's impressive height.
Lysander took a big step back, bracing himself. "Leave. Them. Out of it," he repeated in a low voice. "I mean it."
"If your loony mother and washed-up brother hadn't published this letter, you'd still have a job, wouldn't you?" Cuffe badgered, his hoarse laugh reappearing.
Dom took in the scene, horrified but transfixed, wondering how Lysander would react. His hands were balled into fists. She could detect a flicker of uncertainty on her partner's face, though she was sure Cuffe couldn't. Over the last few months, she had become adept at reading Lysander's moods, at seeing the true emotions lurking beneath his confident, sturdy surface.
"That's right," Cuffe went on. "You're out of work, my Wonder Boy. Guess you aren't such a star now, eh?" But when Lysander still didn't speak, Cuffe paused and slowly rotated to face Dominque once more. "Or shall our red-headed Weasley take the fall for you?"
She had known it was coming. There was absolutely no realistic situation in which she made it out of this meeting with her job. The story was over for good, she certainly would never be an investigative reporter, and she'd be shocked if she was even permitted to stay at the Prophet at all.
"I'll go," she managed to whisper, still trying to make eye contact with Lysander. He wouldn't look at her.
"Stay a moment," Cuffe commanded. "What do you think, Lysander? Should we let the pretty girl keep her advice column?" His eyes narrowed viciously. "Whatever will the witches of London do without Miss Weasley to help them pick out the perfect shade of lipstick?"
Dom quaked with rage but still didn't speak. I deserve it, she told herself bitterly. I should never have tried to be a real journalist. And my attempt at a story may take Lysander down with me.
The mocking look fell from Cuffe's face. "What'll it be, Lysander? It's her or you. Someone's head has to roll, and it sure as hell isn't going to be mine."
Finally, Lysander looked at her. His hazel eyes were completely unreadable. He was gazing at her as if Cuffe wasn't in the room at all, his stare almost as cryptic as it had been in the moments after their kiss on the couch at her flat.
When Lysander didn't immediately play into Cuffe's game of cat-and-mouse, the editor stepped back, paced toward his desk, and turned to look out the window at the passing cars. "There's no doubt that firing you would restore our good name, Scamander. You're a rising star, of course, and all the more reason why the public would believe justice had been served if I tossed you out on your ass."
And still, Lysander stared at Dom. Still not speaking. Eyes still blank. He licked his lips.
"But then, on the other hand, you're my star reporter," Cuffe continued. "Even though you've proved yourself to be a true halfwit over the last month, you've done good work in the past. And I could work you to the bone for years before you ever managed to redeem yourself from this scandal."
Dom broke her gaze away from Lysander's to stare at Cuffe, who was now walking back and forth slowly, deliberately, on the far side of his desk.
"It certainly wouldn't gain us much favor back with the public - and, more importantly, the Ministry - if I merely fire a useless little girl, though," Cuffe mused. "She should've been fired long ago anyway."
Dom's spirit fired to life again, now that her gaze wasn't held by the compelling stare of the boy she had resented for so long, the man who she had come to see as a friend…and perhaps more.
"Just do it," she spat. "Stop insulting me. Stop insinuating that women can't succeed in this business. I know I made a mistake. So fire me. Get it over with. Stop toying with me, and stop treating me like I'm nobody. I know for a fact that this story was worthwhile, even if I did mess it up."
When she looked back at Lysander, she could swear she saw the smallest sliver of a smile cross his lips.
Cuffe gave her a hateful look. "Scamander?" he intoned, glancing at the young man. "You say the word and I'll cut you loose instead of her, give the world some juicy drama to discuss! Or shall we let Dominique's pretty little head roll?"
Lysander's left eyebrow raised just a fraction of an inch, his eyes trained on Dom's face before flicking back to Cuffe. "I'll never let you down again, sir."
Dominique felt her heart lurch, then drop to the pit of her stomach like a boulder. She had known what he would do, of course. But that didn't stop it from hurting. Oh grow up, she told herself severely. You can't honestly have expected him to take the fall for you, a useless advice columnist.
Cuffe's upper lip curled into a sneer. "Very good," he snarled. "You'll be demoted, of course. Staying on merely a trial basis. And you won't be touching any big stories for quite some time."
Lysander's face stayed unreadable, and he stared out the window again, as if the scene on the street was the most enthralling sight he'd ever seen.
"Miss Weasley," Cuffe spat, turning to her. "Thank you for your essential service. Clean out your desk immediately. You will not receive severance pay. And if you so much as dare to ask for a letter of recommendation, I'll see to it that you never hold another job again."
She felt the tears come, but she refused to blink, and not a single one dropped from her eyes. Before she could flee the room, Lysander shoved past her roughly, pulling open the door, crunching on bits of glass as he left.
Dominique looked Cuffe straight in the eye. "I'm sorry to have let you down. Thank you for taking a chance on me. I'll always be grateful."
And with that, she crossed the threshold, ignoring the shards under her feet as she finally blinked and let the tears fall.
His office door was open just a crack, and Dominique took a shaky breath. Swiping at her eyes, she brushed away traces of tears and set her lips in a firm line. She wouldn't let him see how hurt she was. She had always known he'd save himself if he ever had to choose. It only made sense.
"Lysander," she whispered, pushing open the door another inch.
He sat with his back to her, feet propped on the windowsill, leaning back in his desk chair. A bottle of Firewhiskey sat beside him.
"Can we…talk?"
Lysander didn't answer, didn't even move. All Dom could see was his dress shoes, resting on the sill, laces tight and tied in perfect knots.
She took another tentative step into the office, closing the door softly behind her. "Look, I know I owe you an apology for dragging you into this story."
"You're goddamn right you do," he hissed, still not turning.
"I–" She furrowed her brow.
And then he was up, pushing out of the chair, eyes blazing as he faced her. "You had to be an investigative reporter, didn't you? You couldn't stick to your stupid advice columns and leave me out of it. No, you had to save the fucking world!"
"Lysander…" She wanted to fight back, hated the way he was speaking to her, but it was happening too fast. She had been sure he'd save his neck rather than throw himself on the sword for her once again. But she had thought the old Lysander, the one who had haunted her for years, was gone for good.
"Dominique, do you understand what just happened?" His tone was sickly sweet now, condescending. He grabbed his glass of Firewhiskey and put it to his mouth, drained it in seconds, swallowing hard and looking down at the cup as if mystified at how it had become empty. "I just nearly lost everything that I've worked for all my life. I've given this newspaper everything. I lost my family for it. I've never had a second to let myself be in love. Hell, I've never let myself sleep. All for the Prophet."
Dom stared as he snatched the bottle of Firewhiskey and filled his glass halfway, mechanically, as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered.
"You almost cost me all of that," he said softly. "Because you somehow got it into your head that you had what it takes to do this job. To give something your all." He took another swig, his Adam's apple shifting as he tilted the glass back and emptied it again. "You never did know how to do that. You've always been only second best."
Dominique pressed her forehead against the cool stone, letting its harsh edges bite into her skin as the tears scalded her cheeks.
"Little Weasley, all alone. Guess it hurts to see your sister with the boy you've been pining after your whole life, huh?" His harsh voice drifted down the hallway toward her.
"How the hell did you find me here, Scamander," she bit out through a sob. "Can't you please just leave me alone?"
Lysander took another few steps, his harsh hazel eyes scanning her tear-soaked face. "If I didn't know better, I'd have thought we got back the results from our Potions project." He gave her a half-lidded smile.
"I don't–" Dom's voice broke. "I don't give a damn about Potions."
He let out a bark of a laugh. "Perhaps because your precious Lupin had his hands all over your beautiful sister outside the Great Hall this evening? What a heart-breaking tale of thwarted love."
Ordinarily, she would've yelled at him. Hexed him, maybe. Shot some poisonous words right back at his cold, handsome face. But she couldn't. Not tonight. "How did you know?" she asked him, softly. And can Teddy tell too? she added, to herself.
"It's hardly a secret, Weasley. All those times he's rushed to rescue you from my oh-so-evil bullying." He laughed again, evidently pleased with himself. "But at the end of the day, it's not you he wants, is it?"
Lysander was close to her now, just a few feet away. When Dominique glanced up at him, he didn't look mocking anymore. He surveyed her pensively. "It's no wonder you hate being second best."
Lysander stared at her, empty glass dangling from his left hand, the look in his eyes as harsh as she had ever seen. He looked utterly hollow, as if a Dementor had swooped in and snatched his soul.
"You're right," she whispered finally. "I've messed up a lot, and I'm sorry for that. But the biggest mistake I made was letting you convince me you could change."
Confusion unfurled across his handsome features, brow furrowed. He moved to set his glass down on his desk, took a step toward her.
But she was gone.
Author's Note: I'm baaaaack! I hope I haven't totally lost all my readers since I last updated. My intention is to keep working on this story more regularly now that life has settled down a bit. And maybe all the ~drama~ in this chapter was worth the wait?! Leave a review, dying to know what you think!
