Thursday Evening at the Daily Prophet office
Rita Skeeter gnawed at the tip of her quill while holding at arms length what potentially could be the juiciest story of the year. A few minutes ago she had received an owl post from an extremely reliable source. Not wanting to revisit old memories and unpaid grudges she had almost set fire to the note immediately. However, her journalistic nature smelled blood in the water and overpowered her natural sense of self-preservation.
"You've got that look, Rita," Angus Mackay, her editor, commented from his desk.
"Look?" Rita asked taking her eyes off the note and looking at her editor for the last ten years.
"Like a cat with a canary in each paw faced with the decision of which to eat first," said her editor. "Shall I reserve the front page of tomorrow's edition for you?"
"You're the best, Angus."
"Do me one favor, Rita." Angus pushed away from his desk and turned to give her a serious look. "Verify, verify, verify!"
"I'm insulted, Angus! I always use good sources." Rita stood up and put on her robes. She had enormous ambition and no scruples to stand in the way of that ambition. She had a story to investigate.
"Rita, I want everything tight, especially if I have to face up to the Potter amateur legal team of Weasley, Brown and Longbottom again." Angus stood up and stretched. "I still have nightmares of being cross-examined by that shark-in-the-making Longbottom. Did I ever tell you he has the most intimidating glare?"
Rita paused at the newsroom entrance getting set to apparate. "About a hundred times, Angus. I'm off to check it out now. I'll do my best, all right?"
"You had better! I hate to think what that team will be like once they've graduated. Get it done early and give me time to proof it." Rita barely heard the last sentence as she apparated away.
Guido clapped his hands over his eyes as Hermione got ready for bed. He was not allowed to see her in any state of deshabille.
"I'm in a flannel nightgown. Perfectly decent," said Hermione. She pushed her duvet to the side and climbed into bed.
"It's in my contract."
"Oh, good lord Severus!"
"Not him. My boss put it in."
"He sounds positively medieval," said Hermione. She was about to turn off her lamp when Guido sat on the edge of the bed. "What now?"
Guido waved a letter. "I must read some letters to you. I saved one from the fire. Just one and I can check off that required task."
"Fine. Get on with it." She flipped to her side facing away from the phantasm.
Guido began to read softly.
Hermione,
I'm not one for the romantic drivel that woman want. But here are some words I found that express what is in my heart far better than I could ever say.
Non dimenticar means don't forget you are my darling
Don't forget to be
All you mean to me
Non dimenticar my love is like a star, my darling
Shining bright and clear
Just because you're here
Please do not forget that our lips have met
And I've held you tight, dear
Was it dreams ago my heart felt this glow?
Or only just tonight, dear?
Non dimenticar although you travel far, my darling
It's my heart you own, so I'll wait alone
Non dimenticar
Come back,
Severus
Guido shook his head. "That was unexpected."
"What was?" asked Hermione.
"The old-fashioned sentimentality of it. It's an old muggle song. Italian love song I think."
"Romantic not sentimental."
"Whatever. Love is blind and deaf." Guido perused his task list. "Hermione, can I do my second time of the Seven Virtues then the last in the morning? Or do you prefer the last two tomorrow instead?"
Automatically, she cast a soundproof spell and reached for her pillow. It was the next best alternative to the real thing. "Get the last two over with right now."
"Are you sure after the first time and you-"
"NOW!" insisted Hermione as she spooned against her pillow.
"The one in the morning could be a special-"
"Nope! I want it done and done! And you to leave me alone!"
Thursday Midnight at the Daily Prophet office
The auto quill finally stopped after dotting the last period. Over Rita's shoulder, Angus read the draft carefully. "This is going to sell a lot of papers in the morning, Rita. Are you sure about your source? A hundred galleons is a lot to pay."
"Absolutely! He's a complete professional," Rita replied. "The headline needs work though."
"What have we got to work with so far?"
"Miranda's Heartache - The Other Woman," Rita said. "Or how about 'That Granger Mystique' or 'Heroine or Home Wrecker'?"
"Let's put the story to bed. We'll toss a coin in the morning and pick a title that way," said Angus straightening up and stretching. "I don't know how you do it, Rita, but one of these days your luck is going to run out."
"Angus, when you're this good, who needs luck?" Rita beamed at her faithful editor.
