#p:rita

[missanastasianott]

No Where to Run, No Place to Hide || Anastasia & Rita

It was all about the chase and the story. What was the next big thing that would become the headlining story? Annie was always on the hunt for the next big thing. She had to inform the public of the truth. They deserved to know. It wasn’t sugar coated. It was the cold hard blunt truth. Some thought the news writer was too vulgar for the general public, but she thought that if one couldn’t handle the truth, they couldn’t handle the real world. There was nothing better than a fresh headline. And the blonde was hot on the trails of her next story.

Rain pounded against the pavement as Anastasia walked briskly down the street, her eyes trained on the wall. A small enchantment was cast over her head as too not get wet, but the hood of her jacket was still tight over her golden locks, a face in secrecy. Thin lips muttered spells over and over, waiting for the reveal of anything that she could find. All the clues that she had hunted down and all of the people that she had interviewed led her to this exact place. Small, delicate fingers skimmed the surface of the beaten down brick wall.

Annie was so in her own world that she didn’t happen to see the other blonde nearby, the only person examining the wall at the same time as her. Subtle. They were both being subtle as to not turn heads in the direction of the trafficking horde. She knew that face. Rita. Competition. Of course someone else would be hot on the trail, but Annie figured she had a little more time on her hands before someone else came searching for the secret passageway. 

Upon getting closer, Annie pulled her hood down, her hair shaking out of it’s confinement and falling around her shoulders. “Rita. What a pleasant surprise seeing you here. What are you doing on this sound of town? It really isn’t somewhere that people like us would normally be seen.” Her small head cocked to the side, awaiting a response, but already knowing the answer to her question.

@skeeterbeatle

[from-russia--with-love]

paint the town red; rita & clara

Closing her dorm door behind her, Clara began to head towards Rita’s, heels clattering against the floor.Having finally escaped the hospital wing, the first thing she’d done was find the older girl, deciding it was time to take her up on her offer of a night out.

Technically, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be leaving her bed, never mind the grounds. But, Clara was certain Pomfrey was overreacting. Sure, she’d been feeling rather rough for the last few days, but it was to be expected when bouncing between nights out and hangovers. And, as Clara viewed most things in life, it was nothing a little alcohol couldn’t fix.

Reaching Rita’s dorm a few minutes earlier than their agreed time, she paused to push her hair away from her face and adjust her dress, making sure the hem sat a good few inches higher than what could be called appropriate. Giving a short knock, Clara pushed the door open, poking her head into the seventh year dorm.

“Are you ready yet?”

[crouchjr]

Blue is the warmest color — Bartita

Asistir a las ceremonias siempre le parecían tediosas y largas. Cada año veía el desfile de alumnos que por fin se iban, algunos idiotas que nadie iba a extrañar y otros que quizás harían un poco la diferencia. Vio a Rodolphus recibir su diploma, Emma, Mulciber y Bellatrix; con cierta envidia, porque a él todavía le faltaban dos años más para reunirse con Voldemort. Ningún alumno fuera de Slytherin le causaba "tristeza" y tampoco es que sus compañeros fuesen entrañables pero no eran idiotas. Salvo claro a una rubia en particular: Rita Skeeter. Odiada por quizás todos los alumnos del castillo por lo que escribía en su gaceta una que Barty no leía porque prefería mantenerse enfocado en otras cosas. Pero cuando escucho que pronunciaba su nombre se sintió melancólico, siendo ese uno de los sentimientos nuevos que comenzaba a experimentar por culpa de su mejor amigo a quien logró apartar de sus pensamientos. Después de la ceremonia pensó en regresar a su habitación pero al salir del Gran Comedor vislumbró entre los graduados aquella señorita: su cabello rubio brillaba y una sonrisa radiante se adueñaba de su rostro, cuando sus miradas se encontraron Barty le sonrió instintivamente, sabía que podía sobrevivir sin ella al final de cuentas pero otra cosa diferente era que no le agradaba la idea. Dio pasos hacia adelante empujando a un par de alumnos entrometido y finalmente, segundos después, encontrarse con su silueta. —Skeeter — saludó — ¿Ahora es cuando me dices que no te quieres ir?

[proudasa]

Disrobing

Lucius Malfoy’s bootheels clattered on the stone steps that led to the Seventh Year Slytherin boys’ dormitory. He rapped his knuckles against the smooth wood panel then pushed the door open without waiting for a response; anyone who wanted privacy and hadn’t learned locking charms by now was just asking to be interrupted in all their compromising moments.

This afternoon, however, the dormitory was empty, Lucius’s dorm-mates all apparently having found things to do outside their bedrooms (not always the case with a group of seventeen-year-old boys). Lucius checked anyway, because he never did put it past Amycus to be hiding somewhere with plans of jumping out at the worst possible moment. He saw no sign of anyone else, so he kicked off his boots, draped his long robes casually over the back of the nearest chair, and flopped onto his dark green bedspread to wait for Rita.

He found himself idly fidgeting with the silken green ribbon looped in a bow around his wrist. Upon reflection, it occurred to Lucius that he had expected to laugh about that more than he was. He’d thought it a lark, when Narcissa had first started their little medival-times game, and had anticipated joking with his friends about the idea for the whole week leading up to the match. But for some reason, Lucius wasn’t finding it nearly as funny as he’s expected. He actually, if he had to admit it — and he saw no reason why he had to — liked it.

But he liked fancy clothes, and half-dressed witches, even more. And Rita Skeeter might not have the icy perfection of Narcissa Black, but she was adorable and blonde and about to be giggly in her underthings in front of him. Platonic friendship or not, Lucius was looking forward to the show.

[beauty-likeice]

The Lucius Encounter // Rita & Narcissa

While Lucius was still behind her, presumably watching her leave, Narcissa was already headed towards her next destination--her friends, Emma and Rita, who had just noticed her approach. Typically, the three dissolved into cheerful girly greetings and hugs, though Emma had to depart before Narcissa could begin her story to reserve the pitch for Quidditch practice. After her brunette friend had left, Cissa turned to the other blonde, whose shrewd eyes had already noticed one Malfoy's presence in the area Narcissa had just come from.

Rita's eyes were bright with intrigue when they landed on Narcissa; the cool blonde winked at her and then laughed. "I have a story for you, dear Rita," she informed her friend, refusing to look behind her at Lucius. Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were still flushed from her encounter with the prefect. "You're going to absolutely die when I tell you what just happened..."

[beauty-likeice]

Gossip // Rita & Narcissa

Narcissa knew her friend would never give up until she knew the truth, so telling Rita what had happened was a better option--no matter how humiliating and awkward it may be--because if Rita got her hands on the wrong information, the effect could be disastrous.

So she asked Rita to close the door, and settled herself more comfortably on the bed to try to prepare what she should say. When Rita returned, she had that glint in her eye that said she was ready for the gossip--no detail would go overlooked.

Narcissa sighed a bit. "So, where should I begin?" she laughed nervously. "What have you heard so far?"