He could hear his own breath and the erratic beating of his heart loudly. He hadn't thought it would affect him so much, but the changes had caused memories to resurface… Red, iris-less eyes on a face that grew out of the back of the head of the man he'd killed… The first man he'd ever murdered, while he was at the tender age of eleven. A hand slid down his back, cold as always, but the fingers were unfamiliar, thinner, sharper. He knew Marvolo would change his features back to what they were before the second Harry asked for it, but while he tried his best not to flee and hide, he refused to do that.
Appearances shouldn't matter… that's what he'd always told himself. A person should never be judged by his looks, and that was one of the reasons he'd so easily accepted Marvolo. But to be confronted with this sudden change was not something he liked. Maybe, if the man had looked like this after his resurrection, Harry would have been used to the thought, but as it was, he didn't feel like it was his lover who was currently tracing his skin.
"Harry." Marvolo spoke softly, but even his voice sounded strange, higher.
"I'm sorry." Harry muttered, finally opening the link between their minds a bit, which he'd kept slammed down ever since the Horcrux had been made, nearly a day ago. Marvolo had used the day to sleep so he would regain his strength, and Harry had, until this moment, mostly avoided his lover. He tensed when skeletal arms snuck around his waist, the scales on them shimmering slightly.
"I'm still me." Ah, the sadness in that voice… It made the teen feel even guiltier than he already did. Making up his mind, he abruptly turned around, facing Marvolo, looking straight into the slitted pupils. "If you want, I can change…"
"No!" Harry exclaimed, fighting with his own feelings. He put his hand on top of the man's shoulders, his own body shaking with a mixture of fear and self-hatred. "I should… I should love you, no matter what. If I can't do that… then I'm not worthy of becoming your husband." He blinked away tears of anger and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I always thought you beautiful." he whispered, laying his head in the crook of Marvolo's neck. "Others were always disgusted by that, could not understand… But long ago, I forced myself to not be deterred by what others saw as ugly or strange. However, even through that, I never tried to see beauty in someone who doesn't even resemble a human anymore."
"I didn't exactly look human before either."
"You had some flesh left…. An indicator of where your ears had been… human eyes."
"As I said, I can change it easily."
"But you shouldn't need to." Harry sighed, pushing away and averting his eyes in shame. "And you're not a natural Metamorphmagus, so it would constantly eat away your magic when you keep it changed for me."
"Then what do you want me to do?"
Harry sighed again. "I don't know. I want to get used to seeing you like this, to be able to love you with the same devotion as before. After all, you didn't change. But I'm only human, and I suppose I need some time to accept… this."
"I understand." Marvolo replied, his voice suddenly void of emotion. "I shall ask a house-elf to prepare your old room."
"I... what?" Harry asked, baffled.
"I will not sleep in the same bed as someone who is afraid to death of me." the man growled angrily, and got up in a fluent motion before storming through the door. Harry was left staring at it, his lips parted with surprise, before it suddenly dawned on him that his confession must have hurt his lover a lot more than he had initially shown.
"Stupid!" he cried out, turning to bury his head in a pillow. "I'm so fucking stupid!"
He quickly got up from the bed and sprinted down the corridor, knowing that Marvolo had probably gone to his study. He only slowed down when the door of it came in view, and hesitated during the last steps, before finally peeking his head around the doorframe. He took a deep breath when seeing Marvolo, who sat in a chair with his back to Harry, hands balled in fists and tensed up. Harry silently slid down the doorpost until his butt hit the floor. He remained sitting like that, on the threshold, for minutes, not knowing what he could say or do to make it better.
He quietly studied the other, who had not in any way relaxed since Harry had been there. Harry trailed the man's back, arms and head with his eyes, surprised by how similar he looked to before from this angle. If he didn't know any better, he could have thought there had been no changes.
But no, there were, he should man up and accept that.
He suddenly heard a deep sigh, and he saw the anger flow out of Marvolo, who muttered: "Man? By Merlin…"
"What?" Harry said, confused.
"I'm sorry Harry… Really, really sorry. I sometimes forget… but you're only fifteen." Harry didn't see how this was in any way relevant to the whole situation. Marvolo slowly turned around, and Harry did his best to meet the fully red eyes with courage. "It was selfish of me to expect you to ignore… this." he gestured to his face. "I have been used to people doing what I tell them, even if they perceive it impossible, for far too long. I will try to give you as much time as you need."
Harry clumsily got up, gripping the door post so he wouldn't fall, and thanked Merlin that Lucius wasn't here to see it, or he would have gotten a scolding he wouldn't forget. He stepped forwards and reached out, his fingertips grazing the man's skin. Harry frowned in concentration, tracing the strange, new skin while Marvolo let his eyes fall close.
"You have no idea how that feels." Marvolo finally breathed out, and Harry abruptly pulled away.
"I'm not hurting you am I?" he asked, distressed.
A languid smile appeared on his lover's face. "Oh no, pain is the furthest from my mind at the moment."
Harry gulped at the hoarse voice, not knowing if he was ready for such… intimacy with the man right now.
Marvolo sighed, slowly taking Harry's hand in his and pulled it away from his face. "Don't force yourself." he said, but Harry could hear the disappointment. Not knowing what else to do, he nodded and left, aware of the sad gaze on his back.
"Come in, come in." A voice cried out as Rodolphus' knock on the metal door sounded. He spoke the password and the door rippled before melting away so he could step through it. Paper was scattered everywhere, blank sheets, crumpled balls, magazines… Xenophilius bustled into the room, dropping a new stack on the already full table. He wore a bright expression, although Rodolphus thought he didn't really look healthy. His long, blond hair was tangled, as if it hadn't been combed in weeks, which was very likely, and there were tea stains on the ridiculous, flowered robe. He wanted to open his mouth to ask how his daughter, who had returned for Christmas, was doing, but Lovegood interrupted him.
"Have you heard?" the man exclaimed. "Skeeter! Rita Skeeter. Here!" He pushed something in Rodolphus' hands, and he quickly concluded it was yet another paper, but he frowned when folding it open and indeed seeing Skeeter's handwriting. "For months, that hag was gone, and now she's resurfaced again, actually telling the truth! And she wants this printed in my paper instead of that rag that calls itself the Prophet. Imagine, the Queen of the Prophet wants to publish in the Quibbler!"
Rodolphus leaned back slightly to not be struck by wild flailing arms. He let the man rant and read the article, his brows rising with each word. He wondered what it could mean… He was not aware of his Lord having plans for Skeeter or whether or not the Dark Lord had even noticed her existence. "Well, this is unexpected." He muttered, handing it back over to Xenophilius. "That's bound to give a few people a fit. Skeeter always supported her employer, usually the Ministry since they bought out half of the Prophet."
"I know!" the other said with a crazed grin. "It's brilliant."
"But that aside, I came for something else." Rodolphus said, shoving a couple of Quibblers aside so he could sit down. Lovegood's smile disappeared when noticing the other wasn't as enthusiastic by the news as he was.
"What is it?"
"We have gotten a few strange reports from the mainland. Apparently it's been going on for longer, but it's been managed to be hushed until now. It seems someone is… stealing magical creatures."
"What sort of creatures?"
"Dragons." Rodolphus replied. "All kinds of them. They've disappeared."
XxX
Charlie braced himself for the landing, his muscles screaming in protest as Xaphia hit the ground. The massive, dark blue dragon's jaws snapped close around the deer they'd been chasing, and he proceeded to happily chew on his caught prey. While Xaphia was busy devouring his food, Charlie drew his wand and shot a few different spells up into the air to test the wards at this spot. It had taken him weeks to set them up, and even now he was constantly busy mending holes and strengthening weak spots. He mentally thanked his brother, Bill, who had taught him a lot about warding, a subject that wasn't covered in the Hogwarts curriculum. Without that knowledge, he could never have let an entire valley disappear off the maps.
"Come on boy." He said, patting the dragon on the shoulder blade. "Can you fly to Redrock?"
Even though he was prepared for it, he still had to grit his teeth when Xaphia suddenly jumped up, lean like a cat, and flew up with amazing speed. The dragon huffed, a cloud of steam drifting from his nostrils into the biting cold air. A minute later, Xaphia landed vertically on the reddish pillar at the end of the valley, the highest point. He used the claws on his wings to clamber up against the stone until they reached the small platform from which they could oversee the whole valley.
Charlie heard the beating of heavy wings and playful sounds, and when he turned around he saw a group of Romanian Ringnecks practice their agility when airborne, trying to impress the others with dangerous acrobatics. He smiled when seeing them so free and careless as opposed to locked up in cages, supposedly to hide them from Muggles. He knew it wasn't the complete truth… they could have easily done the same as he had now, but they wanted to control the dragons like cattle.
He was glad that he had listened to the centaur. While he did not get any other news from Britain here except for the occasional owl his parents sent him, he had the idea that the Dark was gaining ground. And that, was exactly what he needed. It wouldn't be long now till any of the sides would openly attack, if they hadn't yet. He had gathered nearly all dragons from the dragon preserves in East-Europe. There were currently fifty-three dragons in the valley, although fifteen of those were too young to be risked in a fight. The only dragons he'd left behind in the preserves were the nesting mothers, because he could not both lead a dragon army and look after a bunch of eggs.
He heard the familiar roar of one of his favourites, Norbertina, the female dragon Harry, Ron and Hermione had brought him a few years ago, and Xaphia growled low in his throat when Charlie reacted on it, looking in the direction. He looked back at Xaphia, amused by the jealous glint in the bright blue eyes. Their bond had grown strong over the last months, ever since he had heeded the centaur's advice and followed the path he should. Xaphia hardly ever let him go anywhere alone, and was a constant looming presence when he visited other dragons. He feared for the life of any hypothetical future lover he would have.
It was as if the dragon read his mind, for he turned his head away abruptly and stomped on the ground, mighty limbs shaking with pent-up anger. "What's wrong boy…" Charlie sighed, approaching the dragon and kneeling down next to the head. He wasn't prepared for a paw shooting out in a flash and pressing him tightly against Xaphia. "Hey! What…" he said, trying to not be squished as the dragon hugged him close, a playful purring sound coming from the chest, washing over him like thunder. Charlie made one last futile attempt to get free before slumping against the neck and legs he was trapped between, resigned. "Alright alright, hint taken, I'm yours." He sighed, rolling his eyes as the dragon purred louder.
He spied the back of the old man's head, ignoring his protesting arms and cramped fingers in favour of listening to the fool's musings. Fawkes –pardon, Eldur- sharply looked at his former master too, clearly listening intently to every muttered word.
Eyolf, who currently hung at the top ridge of a pillar, just out of sight of the portraits that covered the walls, craned his head, cursing the layout of the office, which made spying near impossible without playing Spiderman and numerous disillusion spells.
"Ah, Fawkes, I admit that I haven't been careful enough…" Dumbledore said, clasping his hands behind his back. "The attack only served as bad publicity on my part, and now I'm even suspected of kidnapping Fudge! Not that he world isn't better off without him, but still… it worries me. Tom has undoubtedly taken him for one purpose or the other, but his actions don't make sense." The man turned around and walked towards the desk, sitting down and fingering a quill.
"Power is slipping from my grasp… People from families who I have always been able to play to my hand are turning away from me. Tom and his freedom… he can't see that his idealistic views will get him nowhere. Muggles and magic, freely cooperating, is a fairy-tale, spun for those who don't want their lives to be controlled by those who know better."
Eyolf scowled, not pleased at all by what he heard. For one, Dumbledore was being delusional, and secondly, he hadn't come here to hear the fool's ramblings. This was the third time this month he was able to catch Dumbledore alone, and he had yet to hear something worthwhile. The position of janitor restricted him to the castle, not enabling him to follow Dumbledore to the Order's Headquarters, where he had his most important meetings. If that had been the case, he might have heard something about the planned attack at Malfoy Manor.
"But at least we're getting somewhere Fawkes." Dumbledore continued, stroking the bird's feathers. "The scheme I have prepared for Harry is nearly ready. Next time we strike… he will not be as loyal to the Dark anymore as before. He will see his 'Lord' in different perspective…"
Eyolf stiffened and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. So Dumbledore was planning something for Potter? Whatever it was, it didn't sound good, but sadly the man didn't appear to want to elaborate on the matter. On the other hand, he wasn't all that concerned. It sounded as if the fool was going to try to paint the Dark Lord in bad light for Harry, but the one detail he didn't realise was such a plan could never succeed as they shared their minds, magic, and even their bodies.
Shit, now he had mental images and had to stomp down the urge to bang his head against the pillar to erase them.
Finally, after long minutes of waiting, Dumbledore left the office, and Eyolf knew he had a meeting that would last at least forty minutes. He quickly froze the portraits and jumped down to the floor. Everything was so much easier now he could freely enter Dumbledore's office without multiple alarms going off, something he'd made sure of when they stole the memories. He carefully memorised the place of everything on the desk before he dove in, scanning papers, testing items and searching the drawers until he finally found something useful: a map of Britain with hundreds of coloured dots on it. It didn't specify what each colour meant, but he was certain that whatever it was, the Dark Lord would be able to figure it out. The map was heavily warded, and he carefully undid each spell, now and then using the stone the Dark Lord had lent him. There were several that were clear to him: blue dots on Hogwarts, Godric's Hollow, in the middle of London and several other places, and a large number of green dots indicated places Eyolf knew were the homes of Death Eaters. He was relieved when he saw there was no dot anywhere near the Dark Headquarters.
He made a copy of the map in the same way he had copied Potter's map of Hogwarts, shrank it and put it in his pocket. A further analysis of Dumbledore's desk wasn't fruitful, and he put everything back in place. Eldur called out to him in greeting before putting its head under its wing, and Eyolf cancelled the freezing spell on the portraits before slipping out of the room, leaving none the wiser.
He hurried through the corridors, sticking to the shadows without even thinking about it, even though the castle was practically empty. Only when he arrived at a plain-looking, wooden door, he stepped into the light. He rapped on it, not waiting for an answer before stepping in.
"Good afternoon." He said, ignoring Sameer's raised eyebrows.
"Three minutes more and I would have been naked."
"Shall I come back in three minutes then?" he sarcastically said, taking out the map he'd copied. He scanned the room with his eyes, only relaxing when deeming his surrounding s safe.
"I'll shower later." Sameer muttered, rolling his eyes. "What is it you found?"
"You're sure this room has no listening devices anywhere?" Eyolf said, narrowing his eyes at the walls.
"Personally checked." Sameer sighed.
"Very well, I found this." He said, handing the scroll over to the other man. "I wish to use your mark to alert the Dark Lord that I have found something valuable. He is sure to be interested. Also, I need to tell him something I heard Dumbledore saying."
"It is maybe best that you floo to him. I cannot use the Mark to summon him in any way, and it is not safe for him to use the Floo here."
"As a Squib, I should not be able to use Floo either, so if Dumbledore notices I used the fire transport system, he will know something is off."
"I can deliver it to the Dark Lord if you don't want to take risks." Sameer offered, and the assassin nodded curtly.
"That will be appreciated. I will give you a memory of what I saw so you can hand it to the Dark Lord."
While he searched his pockets for a vial and put his wand to his temple after having found and unstopped one, Sameer suddenly seemed to remember something. "Eyolf, last time I spoke the Dark Lord, he asked me if I could ask you something."
The man grunted, trying to concentrate on getting the correct memory while listening to the other.
"He wants to know if you know of any reliable Muggle assassins. For some reason or the other he wants Potter to have a guard that is unable to do magic himself. He thought that possibly, you knew someone from the Muggle section of the Guild…?
Eyolf was done, and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "They're the filth beneath our boots." he spat. "Trying to play something they are not. Few Muggles who have been selected by the Guild finish their training, and even fewer can hope to ever be more than a second-rank assassin, someone to be hired when there is really no-one else."
"Still, there are some, and the Dark Lord only needs one."
"I would hardly call any of them assassins, really."
"But their training is harder, isn't it? As they cannot rely on magic like the rest, they need to be resourceful, able to use anything to their advantage to get the same result."
"And usually they don't succeed." Eyolf sighed. "But very well, I can recommend one that will be sufficient in guarding Potter."
"Who said it's for guarding Potter?"
"When are safety measures ever not for Potter nowadays? May whatever God Muggles look up to give my replacement babysitter more patience and courage than I could bring myself to have."
With concentration, Harry finished the last lines of his sketch. It had been strange to draw him like this, but he did think it would help. Looking the drawing over critically, he added a few small lines in afterthought.
Last days had been awkward. It was Thursday now, and Harry really hoped that he and Marvolo would be on the same line again before the attack on the Order Fridays. he was used to the strange, new looks of his lover now, but he still found it hard to associate Marvolo with the man he loved instead of the one he'd seen in his first year, the spirit-like creature with no feelings other than hate, the will to live and the will to murder.
He'd finally decided that it might be a good idea to draw the man as he was now, and he did feel that it helped, at least a bit. He rubbed his tired eyes with the ball of his thumb.
Despite the upcoming attack, he hadn't had much to do last days. He'd had his first official potion lesson with Slughorn, which had been pretty uneventful and only served to remind him that he was crap at potions, to his teacher's great disappointment. Apparently his mother had been a prodigy, and while he did better than he'd had in any of Snape's lessons, he'd only barely managed to brew the potion in a useable form. He had, to his defence, been rather distraught at the time and not paid enough attention to the instructions.
Lucius had visited yesterday for another lesson too, but when noticing the mood Harry was in and briefly seeing a different-looking, brooding Dark Lord, he'd been quick to cancel it in favour of taking Harry out to the gardens to distract him and have the teen get some fresh air.
The nights had been lonely too. While they did still sleep in the same bed, Marvolo was careful not to touch him without consent from Harry, who at his turn didn't know what to do either, resulting in lying awake for hours. But when he'd gotten up today and looked at Marvolo's still sleeping form, he'd decided that it couldn't go on like this any longer. The way they, no, he was acting was ridiculous. Rationally, he knew very well that Marvolo's mind hadn't changed, and he'd be damned if he let a bad memory ruin their relationship.
"Marvolo." he said to himself, holding up the paper to see it better. Slitted pupils looked back from a sea of red. His eyes trailed over white, scaled skin and the holes of the ears. "Marvolo."
Resolutely, he got up and erased the barriers he'd put up in his mind. He winced as he felt the sudden storm of emotions that assaulted him, and it weighed heavy on his heart to know that he was the cause.
But no longer.
He easily tracked the man down, who was waiting for him in the living room with hesitant hope. Neither of them spoke as Harry entered and strode towards the other. The teen boldly grabbed the back of Marvolo's neck and pushed demanding lips against nearly non-existing ones. While clearly shocked, Marvolo was quick to guide Harry down in his lap, hungrily returning the kiss.
They both moaned at the sensation, and Harry was surprised to find himself feeling extremely aroused by the strange sensation of scales against his skin. He'd only briefly touched them before, with his fingers, but he'd been feeling too many conflicting emotions at that moment to really feel them. A triumphant smile appeared on his face when they broke apart and he looked into Marvolo's eyes, finally seeing them for what they were. Eyes, not a sign of evil or madness. No demonic symbol, or an indicator of Marvolo falling back to what he was before his mind had been restored. They were just eyes, and albeit they looked inhuman and strange, there were feelings swirling in them that Harry definitely could not picture on the face that had grown out of Quirrel's head.
The teen placed his hands on Marvolo's chest, feeling the now rapid thudding beat.
XxX
He shivered lightly as the hands of his lover moved and started pulling his top robe off. When he'd first made his last Horcrux, he'd thought that his skin was less sensitive than before, but while that was true for feeling air or water, it was a whole different thing when it was actually touched by something solid. The scales were indeed spots where the nerves were covered by a thicker layer, but whenever Harry's nails grazed the fine line where it connected the scales to the skin, he had to bite back his moans and fight the urge to throw the boy on the nearest flat surface.
He tried to calm himself, but it was near impossible when devious hands wandered over his torso, exploring the new dents in between his ribs and testing the places where the skin was stretched over the bones. Quivering, he arched his back until his head rested in the crook of Harry's neck.
~Love~, he said in a strangled hiss when a fingers traced the vertebrae. Harry merely hummed, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Marvolo growled, pushing everything he was feeling at that moment through the link, smirking when Harry moaned out aloud, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. It made him feel slightly better to know he was at least able to control himself.
While Harry was still gasping for breath, Marvolo had picked him up and was now on his way to the bedroom. His young lover surprisingly kept silent, only clinging close to him and sending him a sense of approval.
He put Harry down on his feet when they arrived at the bedroom, and Marvolo studied his lover's calm expression, wondering what had brought about Harry's sudden change in behaviour.
"Harry." Marvolo said, his voice sounding hoarser than he wanted it to be. "Do you trust me?"
"With my life." Harry answered, looking him straight in the eyes, and Marvolo turned his head away to not show the other how the words moved him, although he realised only a moment later that the link was still wide open. Instead of embarrassing him by making a joke about it, Harry gave his one-in-a-million smiles and pulled him towards the bed. "Now what made you ask such a question?"
"My magic… works different now. Feels different. I told you about the Sianelu system before… But within this body, it doesn't exactly work like that anymore. I can make the magic within me change course, and let it flow from literally every pore of my body. Some magicians boast their skill to be able to do wandless magic and cast it with their hands. I can cast it from anywhere now."
Harry was speechless for a moment, and Marvolo felt his wonder and awe. Marvolo quirked an eyebrow when Harry licked his lips suddenly and grinned at him. "When you say 'from everywhere'… does that also include…" He smacked Harry over the head to stop that trail of thoughts. "Ow! Hey, I was just curious. It would give a completely new spin to the expression 'wand.' OW! Stop that!"
"To answer your question, I would be able to, but I find myself beneath such… immature displays." he said disdainfully.
"Oh fine, have it your way. Then, why did you bring it up?"
"Because I wanted to share something with you…" he said. "I know you were uncomfortable before about being subjected to the Cruciatus curse, even a modified one that would stimulate your nerves in... another way."
"A…And?" Harry gulped.
"And this." the man answered, wrapping his arms around the boy and releasing magic from every cell of his body until it engulfed the other. Harry's reaction was instant. He screamed, but through the link Marvolo knew that it was definitely not in pain. Moaning himself, he bit the soft skin of the teen's neck, his hands tugging the robes loose to free more skin for him to touch. When he finally stopped the flow of magic, Harry sagged down on the bed, limp and completely spent.
"A warning would have been nice." he croaked in between gasping for breath, but Marvolo's only answer was to drag his tongue slowly over the other's now exposed shoulder. "Merlin." Harry continued. "That felt… felt…" he apparently couldn't find any words that would properly compare it, so he merely shook his head disbelievingly.
"I am glad it pleased you, little Salazar." The man murmured in his ear, making Harry shiver again.
The boy yawned and cuddled up to him. "Sleepy." he said, butting his head against Marvolo.
"Then sleep love." Came the reply, and the man kissed his fiancé. "You can pay me back in the morning."
"Slytherin." Harry mumbled, his eyes drooping.
A few seconds later, Harry's breath deepened, and Marvolo carefully moved the teen into a more comfortable position. He licked his lips when noticing the sticky stains on Harry's abdomen, but refrained from licking it up. Harry would be annoyed with him when woken up now, no matter the reason, and he did not want to deal with a grumpy Harry.
After granting himself a few minutes of staring at the boy's sleeping face, he finally sighed and got up. He still had quite some work left for the upcoming attack, no matter how pleasant it would be to stay here for hours and pleasure himself to the sight of the sleeping teen. He'd used Phineas' painting yesterday to get in contact with Eldur and the Hat, right after receiving news from Sameer and Eyolf, and while the Hat still disapproved of his decision to tackle both the Order and the Ministry, he had been very willing to give him more information about what Dumbledore was planning.
It seemed that the old man would try to get Harry over to his side again by having someone use Polyjuice potion to resemble Marvolo and placing a network of subtle mind-magic spells that would make Harry think it was really him, even in mind. Yesterday, he had feared for a moment that it might have even worked, as Harry had still been avoiding him as much as possible, but he could admit now that even so, the plan would have failed. Dumbledore had no idea how far their link had developed. A cobweb to poison their link would have worked if they'd only been able to receive flashes of emotion, but as it was, they had learned how to communicate actively from a large distance. Harry might be thrown off for a few seconds, but would easily understand that he was dealing with an impostor, even if they hadn't been informed of the plan.
It would only make coming Friday easier.
A noise caught his attention as he entered the study, and he walked over to the window to let a bird in. A crow, which he thought strange until he realised who it was from. Mentally approving of the quick reply to the request he'd sent out yesterday, he scanned the camouflaged envelope, which was black and had a bird feather structure printed on it. The sender wouldn't be able to cast curses on it, but one could never be too sure. He did wonder briefly what had become of the owl he'd sent, but when he peered out of the window he saw it sitting in one of the trees, perhaps having kept an eye on the crow.
He sat down at his desk and unfolded it carefully. After having read its contents, he leaned back, thinking for a moment before grabbing a quill and penning down a reply.
Rita sipped at her tea, peering over the cup with hawk-like eyes at the girl who sat opposite of her. Hermione met her gaze calmly, not at all impressed by the woman, knowing she held more power over Rita than the woman would ever hold over her. "You could go…" she said, raising an eyebrow.
Rita clacked with her tongue. "And give you all the room to stab me in the back when you don't need me anymore little miss? For a Gryffindor, you can be horribly set on what you want… using all means to get it. I am perfectly fine with staying here, where I can watch you."
"Well then." Hermione sighed. "Let's make the best of it and go more into detail about your future articles."
Rita's red painted lips stretched into a grin as her favourite topic was broached, too-white teeth gleaming. "Yes…" she almost purred. "Taking Dumbledore down?"
"Not quite." Hermione replied, sipping her own beverage. The corners of Rita's lips turned down a bit. "I mean, that too, but not now. I would need to hand you the reports on his memories for that, and I haven't yet spoken to anyone who stands close enough to the Dark Lord to have arranged that. I want you to highlight another topic altogether, which has become a bit buried under all the 'magic will be free for wizards'"
"Oh?"
" Magic will also be free for others… I want you to ignite a fire and spread it through the Wizarding world."
"And what topic do you have in mind exactly?" Rita asked, clearly highly skeptical, but nonetheless rummaged through her bag until she found paper and a quill.
Hermione smirked. "Goblins." she said, her voice sugary sweet. "To be more precise… goblins and wands."
The poison-green quill snapped between Skeeter's suddenly tensed up, rigid fingers.
Read and Review!
xx GeMerope
