#magicalmeee

Where: Muggle record shop

When: May, 1982

Sirius loved browsing the Muggle record shops for LP’s; it had started with pure fascination, as a teen, flipping through the boxes and rows of albums, looking at the images of people so very different from him. It had been a way for him to make space for who he was in the confines of expectations and an already paved path. A rebellion that had led to appreciation and habit Sirius still nurtured. It was comforting, calming, flipping through record after record to find something you eventually liked enough to grab, flip around, read. It was a way to calm down, to clear his mind, to forget, once in a while everything else. 

He heard murmured talk in the background but he wasn’t paying attention to the other people browsing and milling about. Sirius took a step to the side, moving to another row. He wasn’t sure what he was after, still empty-handed, waiting for the spark of energy of finding something that grabbed your attention. Sirius eyed the row, searching for where to begin, stepping up to where the cover of a Bowie faced him. 

Sirius, to surely no surprise to anybody, loved David Bowie. Sirius reached for the record, feeling soft skin as his hand bumped into another’s. Surprised, Sirius looked up, his surprise lingering at standing face to face with Gilderoy Lockhart. He blinked, trying to shift focus in his mind to meeting someone from the real world in a Muggle record shop. He hadn’t pinned Gilderoy to be someone that would frequent the Muggle world, especially not music stores. Clubs and fashion stores, perhaps, but nothing past that. Sirius’ gaze softened, a silent acceptance and understanding from their last encounter at Gringotts. 

“Hey,” Sirius said with a a soft grin. “Fancy Bowie, huh?” 

Amelia's request had been at it's surface, just that: a casually worded request. But having worked on the periphery of politics this long, she had long ago learned the useful skill of making orders sound like requests. And that is exactly what Gilderoy had received by owl on her very official letterhead. Sure, the delivery was probably a little overdone, but one thing she knew was if it was worth doing, it was worth overdoing well, and a little extra work never hurt anyone.

Stepping into the interrogation room, the senior auror took one look at the man sitting on the other side of the table, raising her eyebrow slightly as she dropped a folder on the desk and shrugged out of her official robes to drape them over the back of her chair, leaving her in a crisp white shirt under an auror red vest and pressed black pants. Taking the opportunity, she pulled her pocket watch from her pocket to check the time before settling down into a seat across from him as she casually flipped the file open.

"Mr. Lockhart. Thank you for making time in your busy day to speak with me," she said professionally, "I have a few questions I need to ask you."

Where: The home of Rita and Gilderoy

When: Late evening, April, 1982

Rita Skeeter lounged on the plush sofa, her slender fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass, the rich burgundy liquid swirling within. The room was bathed in a warm, golden light that danced with the flicker of the fire, and the scent of lavender wafted through the air, intertwining with the familiar aroma of fresh ink. It was the perfect setting for a night of whispered secrets and shared stories with her captivating flatmate, Gilderoy Lockhart.

Gilderoy, his debut book a few months behind him, seemed restless, the itch to begin his next literary masterpiece growing stronger by the day. Rita understood his ambitions well, for they shared a love of gossip and storytelling that had become the foundation of their complex friendship.

"Darling Gilderoy," Rita purred, her blue eyes meeting his as he entered the room, a sly glint sparkling in their depths. She rested the tip of the fussy, pink feather of her pen against the corner of her mouth. "Won't you join me for a glass of wine and some deliciously scandalous gossip? Your next book won't write itself, and I have a feeling a bit of indulgence might just fan the flames of your creativity."

As she spoke, she gestured to the empty seat beside her, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and a delicate twist of her wrist gathered together the papers strewn about her, making room for the boy. "And if we're feeling particularly adventurous, I've come across a divine new nail polish and a rejuvenating face mask that we simply must try. After all, a little pampering can do wonders for the artistic soul, wouldn't you agree?"

Rita's words floated through the air like silk, her eyes never leaving Gilderoy's. Memories of past late-night sessions, filled with laughter and ambition, flooded her mind, and she felt a thrill of anticipation at the thought of the secrets they would uncover and the stories they would weave together.

As she waited for Gilderoy's response, Rita's heart swelled with a mixture of excitement and nostalgia. In the warm embrace of their shared sanctuary, Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart could once again indulge in the intimate dance of ambition and intrigue that had come to define their unique and irresistible bond. Rita loved it. She loved that Gilderoy understood the cost of a story, the ambition you needed to make it excellent. She had faced so many over the years that didn’t understand the life of a writer, the yearning and need to capture and pen and succeed. Gilderoy did, and she adored him for it, in her own way. 

“Mm? Come, come, sweetheart.”

The world was a blur of colors, the air filled with the noise of music dancing across the crowd like a wave from the ocean, back and forth. Every now a night like this was precisely what she needed, yet it was also very much one of the nights she’d not tell her most recent family of. No, they didn’t need to know just who she was spending her nights and sometimes days with. There was a smirk on her face as she moved along with the music, glancing at some of the people she’d reconnected with. Hands reaching out she danced along with her fellow Slytherin alumni until pushing away with a chuckle. “I need a drink!” She called out, hoping it would reach them despite the noise. Emmeline observed with a smile as they disappeared into the crowd. This felt normal. For the first time she wasn’t wondering about the war raging on outside because in that very moment it didn’t matter.

With a chuckle she made her way to the bar, ordering herself a drink before she slipped into a seat. Her eyes went scanning, head moving along to the music as the ever-present smirk settled back onto her lips, lighting up her features. No one could have guessed the storm that lay hidden behind those eyes that sparkled with life for the first time in quite a while. Emmeline’s attention finally landed on a face she’d not seen before, curiosity filling her until a sense of familiarity mixed in with the rest. “Why does your face look so oddly familiar?”