the dim, smoky interior of the leaky cauldron buzzes with hushed conversations and the clink of butterbeer mugs. rita sits in a shadowy corner, her quick-quotes quill poised over a piece of parchment. her jeweled eyes glint in the candlelight as her eyes dart from table to table, hungrily seeking out the next juicy tidbit of gossip.

a smirk plays on her lips as she overhears snippets of conversation – whispers of ministry shake-ups, rumors of dark magic resurfacing. her quill scratches furiously, embellishing each morsel of information with her trademark flair for the dramatic.

suddenly, the pub's door swings open, admitting a gust of chilly air and a figure shrouded in a traveling cloak. rita's eyes narrow as she recognizes the newcomer – a potential source, or perhaps her next unwitting subject. she takes a sip of her gillywater, mind spinning.

with a practiced flick of her wrist, rita tucks away her quill and parchment into her handbag. she stands, smoothing her top and plastering on her most beguiling smile. time to work her magic – after all, the truth won't sensationalize itself.

And then there were those encounters that would bring out her mask, the smirk lighting up her features when she spotted Rita. Even though the brunette tried to stay out of the drama that could at times take hold of certain parts of society, the whole idea of it rather amused her. Many a day had been spent with her browsing the newspaper simply to find herself chuckling at one thing or another; most likely the misfortune of others. Not in a cruel way, no. Simply in a way that questioned another person’s sanity, or level of intellect.

"why, emmeline darling!" rita purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "what a delightful surprise to bump into you here. and looking so... incognito." her gaze raked over emmeline's traveling cloak, her eyebrow arching suggestively.

leaning in conspiratorially, rita lowered her voice to a stage whisper. "now, no need to be coy with me. what brings a respectable witch like yourself out in such... *secretive* attire?" she winked, her quick-quotes quill poised eagerly over a piece of parchment. "you know the readers of the daily prophet simply adore a good mystery. care to give them a little... well, anything"

the dim, smoky interior of the leaky cauldron buzzes with hushed conversations and the clink of butterbeer mugs. rita sits in a shadowy corner, her quick-quotes quill poised over a piece of parchment. her jeweled eyes glint in the candlelight as her eyes dart from table to table, hungrily seeking out the next juicy tidbit of gossip.

a smirk plays on her lips as she overhears snippets of conversation – whispers of ministry shake-ups, rumors of dark magic resurfacing. her quill scratches furiously, embellishing each morsel of information with her trademark flair for the dramatic.

suddenly, the pub's door swings open, admitting a gust of chilly air and a figure shrouded in a traveling cloak. rita's eyes narrow as she recognizes the newcomer – a potential source, or perhaps her next unwitting subject. she takes a sip of her gillywater, mind spinning.

with a practiced flick of her wrist, rita tucks away her quill and parchment into her handbag. she stands, smoothing her top and plastering on her most beguiling smile. time to work her magic – after all, the truth won't sensationalize itself.

He glances around the room, spotting a free table, making his way over. Strong digits pull out the chair, taking a seat to pull out a piece of parchment to go over. It was half way through reading what he was that he could feel eyes on him. Nimbly folding up what was in hand and tucked away, he glances over to find Rita Skeeter sitting there.

"Can I help you?"

"oh, i do hope so," rita purred, her green quill poised expectantly over a piece of parchment. "rita skeeter, daily prophet" she introduced, "i couldn't help but notice you seemed rather... preoccupied with that little note of yours. anything newsworthy, perhaps? a scoop for my ever-eager readers?"

she tilted her head, blonde curls bouncing slightly as her gaze swept over sethos with poorly concealed curiosity.

"oh, rabastan," she purred, leaning forward slightly. "your memory serves you well. those school days were quite... educational, weren't they? for both of us, i'd wager." she waved her hand dismissively at the scribbling quill. "just a force of habit, darling. pay it no mind."

she took another sip of her gillywater, her gaze never leaving rabastan's face. "australia, you say? how fascinating. i'm sure our – well, my – readers would be absolutely enthralled by tales of your curse-breaking adventures. tell me," she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "did you encounter any... unexpected challenges during your work?"

rita's smile widened, a perfect blend of invitation and challenge. she knew rabastan was too clever to give her anything truly incriminating, but that didn't mean she couldn't read between the lines.

"after all," she continued, her tone light but her eyes sharp, "in these times, one never knows what kind of... curses one might stumble upon. even in places as far-flung as australia."

she sat back, taking another sip of her drink. "but do go on, darling. i'm all ears for your tales of temporal confusion and antipodean adventures. who knows? perhaps your... story. it might prove... useful to my readers."

"Very educational. You certainly confirmed and exceeded my expectations." With that admission - though she surely knew it already - he placed his glass back atop the table and pressed a finger to the parchment, sliding it forcefully away from the quill so that he could cast his eyes over the first few sentences. "My, my. It seems your quill is as complimentary as you. 'Dashing good looks and steely blue eyes', hm?" Wholly entertained, he returned the parchment to the ink-ready implement and wondered if it would continue to be so agreeable after his interruption.

"What kind of magic governs that quill?" he asked, genuinely interested before continuing. "There are always unexpected challenges. No amount of training can prepare you for everything. Much of what I do is instinct and creativity. I don't think most people could imagine the type of curses I encounter on a day-to-day basis. Not to mention the treasures I find, and the dangers involved in retrieving them." Pausing, he took another sip of his drink, another idea wickedly riveting his mind in the interim. "I have encountered dangerous beasts, traps and Dark Wizards. Just recently, I collaborated with the Auror department and was very grateful for their assistance with my work. Auror Longbottom - the male one, Frank - accompanied me abroad and proved very efficient with dealing with Dark Wizards while I attended to the treasure. It was such an honour to work with the Ministry." Slyly smiling, he gestured again to the quill. "Make sure you include that last part."

"oh, darling," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm, "you know my quill has an eye for... quality. though i must say, your sudden interest in its inner workings is quite touching. perhaps we should arrange an exclusive interview about your newfound fascination with magical writing implements?"

she leaned back, crossing her legs and tilting her head, a picture of casual interest that belied her true focus. "auror longbottom, you say? how... fortuitous. i'm sure our readers will be thrilled to hear about such sterling cooperation between departments. after all, in these trying times, it's so important to highlight the... more positive aspects of wizarding society."

her acid-green quill continued to scratch away, dutifully recording rabastan's words. however, rita's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a calculating gleam visible for just a moment before her face smoothed back into its mask of friendly interest.

"you know, rabastan," she said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "i've always admired your... creativity. the way you could weave such fascinating tales."

she leaned in slightly, her quill twitching in anticipation beside her. "i must say, your choice of attire suggests an interesting day... intriguing at most. been anywhere exciting?" her eyes flickered to his cloak, noting the faint traces of foreign magic that clung to its edges.

rita crossed her legs, her pants rustling softly.

her quill hovered expectantly over a piece of parchment, ready to twist whatever words rabastan might offer into her next sensational story.

her smile widened, a perfect blend of invitation and challenge. "come now, surely you can spare a tidbit for an old friend? after all, in these troubled times, one never knows when a well-placed story might prove... useful."

Removing his cloak, he draped it heedlessly across the adjacent chair and pointed at the quill. It began scribbling immediately, probably some nonsense about his demeanour and appearance. "Is that really necessary?" Yet despite the sharpness in his tone, he scrutinised the witch and knew her words to be true. What he didn't know was the side on which she played - probably her own. "Do you remember that time you spread all those tales about me at school? That was very cruel of you, Rita, my dear. Perhaps I've never overcome it."

He settled his eyes on hers, lowering them a moment to observe the dare in her smile before they ascended once more. He would give her nothing implicating. But it wouldn't hurt to establish a firmer alibi for today's activities. Shrewd calculation transpired to a more nuanced, mutual understanding, as he continued.

"Would you like a story about the glamours of working as a curse-breaker? That is what I do, after all. Today, I have been in Australia - well, our today was their tomorrow, if you'd like to be finicky with the details."

"oh, rabastan," she purred, leaning forward slightly. "your memory serves you well. those school days were quite... educational, weren't they? for both of us, i'd wager." she waved her hand dismissively at the scribbling quill. "just a force of habit, darling. pay it no mind."

she took another sip of her gillywater, her gaze never leaving rabastan's face. "australia, you say? how fascinating. i'm sure our – well, my – readers would be absolutely enthralled by tales of your curse-breaking adventures. tell me," she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "did you encounter any... unexpected challenges during your work?"

rita's smile widened, a perfect blend of invitation and challenge. she knew rabastan was too clever to give her anything truly incriminating, but that didn't mean she couldn't read between the lines.

"after all," she continued, her tone light but her eyes sharp, "in these times, one never knows what kind of... curses one might stumble upon. even in places as far-flung as australia."

she sat back, taking another sip of her drink. "but do go on, darling. i'm all ears for your tales of temporal confusion and antipodean adventures. who knows? perhaps your... story. it might prove... useful to my readers."

the dim, smoky interior of the leaky cauldron buzzes with hushed conversations and the clink of butterbeer mugs. rita sits in a shadowy corner, her quick-quotes quill poised over a piece of parchment. her jeweled eyes glint in the candlelight as her eyes dart from table to table, hungrily seeking out the next juicy tidbit of gossip.

a smirk plays on her lips as she overhears snippets of conversation – whispers of ministry shake-ups, rumors of dark magic resurfacing. her quill scratches furiously, embellishing each morsel of information with her trademark flair for the dramatic.

suddenly, the pub's door swings open, admitting a gust of chilly air and a figure shrouded in a traveling cloak. rita's eyes narrow as she recognizes the newcomer – a potential source, or perhaps her next unwitting subject. she takes a sip of her gillywater, mind spinning.

with a practiced flick of her wrist, rita tucks away her quill and parchment into her handbag. she stands, smoothing her top and plastering on her most beguiling smile. time to work her magic – after all, the truth won't sensationalize itself.

Bellatrix pauses for a moment, looking the woman up and down, her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. Rita Skeeter, Bella remembers, at the exact same time she feels a chill go down her spine. Not of fear, of course, but of the nagging feeling she is about to be annoyed to an early grave.

It wasn't often she came into the Leaky, hovel that it was. Bellatrix was an hour early for a pre-planned work meeting. She wanted to come inspect the location before agreeing to sit and eat here, not willing to be poisoned by — gods forbid — greasy pub food. Her eyes leave Skeeters person and flicker about the room, a look of disgust on her face as she takes in the baskets of vinegar-soaked chips. Repulsive.

"ah, bellatrix," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "always a pleasure to see you slumming it with us common folk. tell me, does the air down here sting your delicate nostrils?"

she leaned forward slightly.

"as for cages, leads, and collars," she continued, her tone light but edged with steel, "i find them terribly passé. but do tell, darling – how does it feel to be on such a short leash yourself these days? the rumors i hear... well, let's just say they paint quite the fascinating picture of your... shall we say, extracurricular activities?"

rita's eyes flickered meaningfully to bellatrix's left forearm before meeting her gaze again, challenge gleaming in their depths. "but perhaps you'd care to set the record straight? after all, in these troubled times, it's so important to control one's narrative, wouldn't you agree?"

she gestured to the empty chair across from her, her smile never wavering. "care to join me for a drink? i promise i don't bite... unless provoked, of course."

the dim, smoky interior of the leaky cauldron buzzes with hushed conversations and the clink of butterbeer mugs. rita sits in a shadowy corner, her quick-quotes quill poised over a piece of parchment. her jeweled eyes glint in the candlelight as her eyes dart from table to table, hungrily seeking out the next juicy tidbit of gossip.

a smirk plays on her lips as she overhears snippets of conversation – whispers of ministry shake-ups, rumors of dark magic resurfacing. her quill scratches furiously, embellishing each morsel of information with her trademark flair for the dramatic.

suddenly, the pub's door swings open, admitting a gust of chilly air and a figure shrouded in a traveling cloak. rita's eyes narrow as she recognizes the newcomer – a potential source, or perhaps her next unwitting subject. she takes a sip of her gillywater, mind spinning.

with a practiced flick of her wrist, rita tucks away her quill and parchment into her handbag. she stands, smoothing her top and plastering on her most beguiling smile. time to work her magic – after all, the truth won't sensationalize itself.

He noticed Rita through force of habit, scanning the room's occupants as he approached the bar and gestured to order. Knowing who surrounded him was a necessary measure, these days. Nothing sinister would happen while in such a public space, yet caution was engrained within him. He had never been reckless.

Still, despite knowing Rita fairly well, he retrieved his firewhisky and another gillywater, and joined her at her table. He'd give her nothing scandalous to report, and he would not mind being entertaine for a short while before he left once more - this time, through the front, where repugnant business awaited him in Muggle London.

"Hello, Skeeter." Smiling languidly, he slowly slid the gillywater towards her. The glass made a dull scraping sound across the wood, weaving a trail over the alcohol-stained surface. "What did I do to earn such a charming smile from you?"

she leaned in slightly, her quill twitching in anticipation beside her. "i must say, your choice of attire suggests an interesting day... intriguing at most. been anywhere exciting?" her eyes flickered to his cloak, noting the faint traces of foreign magic that clung to its edges.

rita crossed her legs, her pants rustling softly.

her quill hovered expectantly over a piece of parchment, ready to twist whatever words rabastan might offer into her next sensational story.

her smile widened, a perfect blend of invitation and challenge. "come now, surely you can spare a tidbit for an old friend? after all, in these troubled times, one never knows when a well-placed story might prove... useful."