r e l e n t l e s s

Septima was glad to hear Rita’s reassurances, though she wasn’t entirely certain how far they would reach, and when a story would get too interesting for her to resist. But there wasn’t much she could do about it now, except for ask her for it. “Okay,” she gave the other girl a brief smile. “Thank you, Rita.”

Rita felt a flicker of doubt at her friend's smile. For half a minute, she felt a little guilty about lying and skirting the technicalities. Septima was fair, as far as Head Girls went. And then, just as suddenly, the flicker was gone. Rita did what she had to do to get ahead. She'd never been an altruistic person, she wasn't content with writing up the weekly flea market like her father was, and she'd be damned if she'd let something as stupid as guilt get in her way. "Anytime, Septima."

"Somehow, I don’t think that the contents of anyone’s letter besides your own is your business." She continued to pet Screech as he crooned and started to nuzzle her hand. One of the benefits of having a Great-Horned was that they looked scary and they can be used to intimidate people but they were actually just very loyal. And very trainable. For one person, at least. He wouldn’t be nearly so nice to anyone else, besides recipients of letters that she sent.

"However, I am increasingly concerned about you, dear Rita. You seem to be suffering of a near-panic attack. Whatever could be the matter?" Narcissa turned to face Rita, with an innocent expression on her face and Screech on her arm, still petting him. 

Davies hooted softly, offering her tiny leg. Rita attached the envelope carefully and sent the owl off into the morning sky. Hopefully Davies would be able to reach London quickly enough that her application would be seen by midday. She didn't have connections in the Prophet, but she'd be damned if she'd let that hurt her changes.

With a strained smile, she turned back to the younger blonde. "Don't worry your pretty little head about me, ducky. I'm perfectly fine, not that I actually believe your little pretense. What's your game, darling?"

"Yes, I’m sure they were interesting alright," she smiled quietly. "And I know you didn’t. Just… in case they might try to meet in private… leave them alone, okay?" Andromeda was a really decent girl for a Slytherin, and though she was a bit worried about Ted and his attachment to her, it wasn’t because of Andromeda herself.

Septima looked concerned. Like, really actually concerned. Rita's smile fell. "Look, I know it's not any of my business." Like that had ever stopped her before. "And I'm really not trying to stir anything up, honestly." Well..but she was. "So...if they do try to meet in private, I promise...to not follow them." Lies, all of it.

If Skeeter knew how much she was asking just about the things Alecto was hiding, she’d be so pleased - her brother, her parents, and now Sirius. Good thing she didn’t. “I can’t really say, I’m not close to him, for years now.”

"Really? So you've not seen nor heard of him for years now? You've grown up with the Blacks, surely you've got some kind of insider information? Explosive fights, family secrets, hidden tensions? Anything?"

"Also, just for the record, I wouldn’t spike a drink with something that’d get you buzzed. Not in the normal sense anyway." Get someone so drunk they fall down some stairs? Sounded okay by him. Leave them telling their most embarrassing secrets? Sure. Give them two ears and a tail? Sounds promising. But the thought of someone spiking people’s drinks to make them susceptible to real harm? It made his skin crawl.

Everyone knew to take care what you said to Rita Skeeter. But there were some days James just didn’t care. He wasn’t that bothered by most people’s opinions. If people didn’t know that Rita’s writing was somewhat on the exaggerated side, then they weren’t worth bothering about. “I don’t know what these ‘regrettable things’ are, Skeeter. I don’t regret things. Besides, I have been drinking. I’m just building it up. Like a snowball. What about you? Are you planning on doing regrettable things?”

He sounded so indignant, it made her chuckle. "I didn't mean anything by it. You're the one who said you spiked the drinks, I guess I just assumed it would be something like that. It must be my muggle side coming out." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Rita rarely mentioned her muggle father, and although she was sure at least half the school knew she was a halfblood, it still wasn't very smart to talk about it openly. Not in these times, not when there were crazy blood-purist Slytherins within hearing distance. Obviously James Potter wouldn't care, but if someone less sympathetic overheard, things could get dicey.

"Oh, come on. Surely there's something you've done that you wish you hadn't. Everyone has regrets, Potter, no matter how small." She flashed him a wink and a toothy smile before taking a swig of her drink. "Nothing too regrettable, I'd say. But there's really no point in making plans when there's alcohol involved."

Druella Black was a nuisance. 

Narcissa would never tell her that to her face in a million years, not even when she was putting her mother in the ground, because she knew that Mother always hears her and will find some way to punish her. Her mother wanted updates on her life every two or so weeks, which wasn’t that bad, but Narcissa tires of writing letters and finding time to run up to the owlery in her busy schedule.

At least one good thing would come of this. Unbeknownst to most people, Narcissa did, in fact, own a pet. She was too afraid of getting a cat because Bella might go on a rage and “accidentally” vent her anger on the poor creature. Toads were warty, disgusting, and for people who had self-esteem issues. At least owls were useful in delivering and receiving mail. Her owl’s name was Screech and he was a Barn Owl, which she thought befitted her looks and personality. Screech only lived out his name when either the person she was writing to took too long in replying or when she made clear that she didn’t like someone. He was especially loyal to her, which was a good trait to find in a mail owl.

As she rounded the corner to enter the Owlery, she wasn’t expecting to find anyone else, as it was rather early in the morning. Much to her surprise, as she rounded the bend she caught sight of darker blonde hair that didn’t look like her own. Narcissa’s hair was much more of a golden blonde. She pretended not to take much of an interest in the other girl as she reached out her hand for Screech. 

"So who are you writing to?"

The Owlery was empty, thank god, which wasn't surprising given the time. She looked for her snip of an owl, Davies, among the white and brown feathers. After what seemed like ages, the tiny owl hooted down at her. Rita smiled, hooting back as Davies flew down to the windowsill next to the blonde and stuck her head under Rita's hand, demanding pets. Rita liked to take care of her post before the bustle of the castle began in earnest. If you didn't mind the smell, or the unforgiving predawn chill, it was lovely to hear the soft hooting and clicking of the owls shuffling about while watching the sun rise slowly over the mountains. 

Well, it was lovely until someone else had the same idea. Rita scowled, clutching her envelope tighter, and stole a glance over her shoulder. Narcissa Black, fifth year prefect, Slug Club member, youngest of the three Black girls. The pretty one, where Bellatrix was the insane one, and Andromeda the reserved one. 

"I'll tell if you tell, Black."

Charms was Lily’s favorite subject. In the past it used to be tied with potions, but since her relationships with the Slytherins had worsened, the class wasn’t as entertaining. She still liked brewing antidotes and potions and magic, and talking to Professor Slughorn was nice, but the class didn’t have the same charm it used to.

Charms, on the other hand, she excelled at. Lily had thought, during career advice the year before, that going for her Charms Mastery might be something she would be interested in doing. Of course, with the trouble brewing and all, and the way that muggleborns rarely received Masteries, it was probably an impossible dream.

"It's a very advanced sort of thing. I had to get special permission. That's part of the reason you can't tell anyone; if other students knew I was doing this project, they'd want to try for it as well. McGonagall and Flitwick were both very clear about the need for secrecy."

She hadn't answered Lily's question. The spellwork that was required  Transfigure oneself did draw on Charms, if only marginally.