poison pen.

who: rita ( @ritaraves )

“to what do i owe this pleasure?”

-

“I need a ride.” 

An eyebrow lifted, but otherwise, Cordelia’s face remained neutral. She was not interested in playing the giggling school girl, gushing about a relationship that might be doomed. The pen in her hand tapped lightly against the table next to her. “I’m dying of a rare blood disease, Rita, do you think I have time to plan a wedding or worry about a future that’s more than twenty four hours ahead? Do you think that preposterously private auror has any interest in seeing a wedding announcement splashed across the front page of your trashy little paper, especially when you tie him to a marked Death Eater? I’m far more interested on the exclusive inside story of the mysterious blonde muggle who was locked in an auror holding cell for hours for domestic terrorism and rumored to be related to the nosiest reporter in the business. How’s he doing, by the way? Those cells can be a bitch to sleep in. The file I have on him is quite interesting, too. The Dark Lord has quite the interest in those muggles, you know. One wrong bit of information gets out from anyone, well… a shift in the wind is certainly all it takes to crumble a mighty city.” It felt almost treacherous, the way she sank into the persona she was using as a mask, hiding behind it. She wanted to scream from the rooftops that she was marrying the man of her dreams, but dangers lurked around every corner, and she was already in enough shit without dragging him further into the pit with her. Rita was too nosy for her own good, and Cordelia had to nip that in the bud before it could bloom.

-

dammit scratch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds like a fascinating little story. I would love to get every last detail about what you’ve heard on that too, and can I quote you?” she asked. a green quill snapped to attention over her shoulder. “I think the information is going to published whether either of you like it or not because you’re both somewhat of a social sensation, albeit in different avenues, and I have a funny little feeling based on what I’ve heard that he would rather have some amount of control over what is being printed... and what isn’t.” the words remained friendly enough, but there was definitely a raw undertone to the words. “I don’t write for a tabloid. I write for the most reputable paper in the nation. it has status and give you an opportunity to create your own narrative.”

“I also happen to have an extremely strict off the record policy that I doubt you’ll be thrilled with, Miss Skeeter, and my sources are well guarded. What could I possibly gain from you outside of the rate that is clearly stated.” Leaning back, Cordelia reached up to try and rub away the headache growing between her eyes with two fingers. “What do you want, Rita?”

-

“oh, I would expect nothing less, but we were talking about my rate, however.” rita pulled her glasses down the bridge of her nose to the very tip and peered over them. “a little birdy told me that someone has impending nuptials to a preposterously private auror who is hot at odds with the head of his department at the ministry, and I have readers who want the exclusive inside story on the moody man’s mysterious marriage.”

open; anywhere

“My rate isn’t negotiable, and my service isn’t a silly little game, so if you aren’t here to be serious, get out of my office and hire a subpar private investigator.”

-

“oh, honey. everything is negotiable when you have the right information. shouldn’t a fine little private investigator like yourself know that?”

“For you, maybe.” Lexi replied. “If it bleeds it leads might is all well and good, but I can’t write my quidditch stories if the players have been caught up in explosions.”

-

“yes, of course for little ol’ me. am I supposed to care about anyone else’s business? oh! I guess I really am!” rita laughed and the little ringlets of bleach blonde bounced. “how many players have been caught up in them at this point? it is frankly amazing there is still a league to play at all.”

“I can’t just leave.” His voice was a hiss as he finally brought his hands down, rubbing at his wrists a little and stretching out his neck and shoulders along the way. “They’re taking in patsys, and I’m a good fall guy.” His eyes glanced around them, at the chaos unfolding. He was looking for friends, looking for allies, but he only saw a sea of blurred faces. “I’m a good fall guy because I don’t crack, and I’ve been arrested before. And we both benefit if I get taken in. My people and you get information based on whatever questions they throw at me. Even if I don’t answer ‘em.” He paused, blew out a slow breath. “You know a good laywer?”

-

“you can absolutely just leave. you don’t owe these people anything.” rita argued. if life had proven anything to her, it was that you had to look out for yourself, and never get trapped somewhere you don’t already know how to get out of. “yeah, obviously I’ve known a few, but I don’t even know if muggles have basic rights that a lawyer can defend in court. doesn’t being held indefinitely in a little prison sound like the absolutely worst sort of torture imaginable to you? run before you can’t anymore scratch.”

It should have been embarrassing, his sister coming to his rescue like this. His eyes scanned the place, wondered about his friends, about the weird little family they had created, but landed back on the bottle blonde in front of him in time to watch the wizard cop grumbling and stomping off, presumably to go and grab that superior officer dude. He could run. He could make a run for it right now and probably get a good bit of distance before they got back, but his hands still locked in place behind his head, and he didn’t move. “Ritzy, you need to get out of here. Somethin’ ain’t right.” He said it through clenched teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he tried to hold back unrestrained rage. “I don’t want anything bad happenin’ to you. And this feels… bad.” 

-

“something is wrong.” rita confirmed and glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. she pulled out her wand and pointed it with determination at the cuffs on his wrist. “I did not hear a single whisper about this. do you know how much goes on at the ministry that I don’t hear about? I am the fly on every wall. this was an entirely too well-kept secret which makes me think it didn’t come from the minister directly.” it must have been from inside the department somewhere. “trust me, I’ve done a lot more illegal things than you have, but I don’t let bad things happen to me anymore. got it? so you need to run. I’ll try to find that little girlfriend of yours too.”

with: an auror 

“I’m not resisting, dude, stop fucking shoving me!” Scratch was no stranger to getting arrested, but getting arrested by wizard cops felt a little… worse, somehow. One of those moments in life where he was questioning what the hell he had done, why he had taken the path he had. He wondered how many magic sticks he would need to snap in order to get out of this, but didn’t move his hands from behind his head. “Wanna tell me what, exactly, the charges are? Criminal mischief can’t be worth all this fuss.”

-

“excuse me.” rita pushed through a few people in the crowd when she spotted a mop of hair the color hers would be if not for years of dime store bleach and chameleon combs. “excuse me!” she cut between scratch and the auror. her green quill snapped sharply into place behind her. “rita skeeter, daily prophet. is there a reason that the ministry, who advertised a night of building bridges in the magical and non magical communities, is now holding said individuals indefinitely based on nothing but hearsay and obvious profiling? does that not concern you for the say of legality or, at the very least, ethicality? where will you be taking these people for holding? can I get your name or your superior officer? why don’t you be a dear? scurry off and get him. I think he might want to be involved in this sort of press relations.”

“Do you wonder if one day we’ll get nostalgic for disaster?” Lexi asked. “We’ve been fighting for so long I’m not sure anything knows otherwise anymore.”

-

“disaster is good for business, sweet cheeks.”

Millicent snickered. She saw Rita was a character all her own. She could appreciate that. At least the woman didn’t seem hide from being herself. Millicent couldn’t imagine being like Rita but she liked the differences. If everyone was the same life would be boring. That’s what they say anyway.

“I’m very picky about what lives in my closet so to answer your question: I absolutely bought them myself,” she responded proudly.

-

if there was one skill which rita had honed more than any other, it was the ability to talk shit up. that old barney at hogwarts used to drone on and on about words being magic, and boring man that he was, he’d been right about that. words were tractable and easily manipulated. rita knew how to make that work in her favor. she could make a story out of the smallest pieces. “how long have you had them?”

She hadn’t heard such truth in a long time. “You couldn’t be more right,” Millicent said with a smirk as she lifted her her leg showing off her knee high boots with heels pointing to the sky. “There’s nothing more powerful the sound of heels tapping on the ground.“

-

“that is because, and all my readers agree, I am always, always, always right.” rita snapped her fingers and popped a bubble of gum between her lips. a green quill twitched and began to mark down something in a notepad hovering a little too close to her blonde curls. “cute boots. did you buy them yourself or were they a gift?”

task 016 || wardrobe