#rita001

[augusta-longbottxm-blog]

snooping for a story | rita & augusta

March 9, 1979 Longbottom Manor { @skeethings }

Augusta could tell from the moment she opened the manor door to Rita Skeeter that it was going to be a long afternoon, one that would require about a bottle of wine to recover from later on. She had sent Annabelle over to the Tonks’ before Rita had arrived, but she now wished that she could use Annabelle as an excuse to send this aggravating woman away. They had been at their interview for the last forty-seven minutes, and Augusta could tell that Rita’s patience was wearing as thin as hers, yet Augusta remained as cold as the untouched tea that sat in front of Rita.

“I already told you, I don’t know who else was involved in the rescue mission for Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon.” Augusta’s voice was sharp as she responded to the same question for the sixth time. She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance anymore under the pretense of politeness. There was a time and place for etiquette, and this was not it. 

“I have already told you all that I know, Ms. Skeeter. My son and Alice Prewett are Auror trainees who attempted to rescue two of their dear friends from the hands of Death Eaters. I don’t know why or how Minerva McGonagall was involved” lie “or how they knew how to find the missing persons” lie “or why they all decided to band together to rescue Ms. Meadowes and Ms. McKinnon” another lie. “I also cannot divulge any information about the treatments that Ms. Prewett and my son received during their stay at St. Mungo’s. So unless you want to know how to run a wizarding hospital, I suggest you find someone else to interview.”

[carrow-amycus]

Amycus felt like his stress levels had even more ever since the night that Rosemary had found him in the chapel. He didn’t want to think that she had motives behind wanting to be his friend, but it was starting to seem that way. Normally, when you befriended someone it was because you already liked them, not because you wanted to change them. The Gryffindor girl definitely seemed to want to change him though. He was a soldier covered in steel armor, it protected him from attempts of trying to mold him into any other way, and he had to be more careful to leave his armor on when he was around her. Especially since she didn’t trust him. Now Rodolphus was going through his own personal hell and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this stressed out. He didn’t mind sometimes taking on the role of caretaker when his friends had done that plenty of times for him. But right now he needed a distraction. Amycus wanted all thoughts out of his head and knew exactly who could help make that happen. “Hey,” he said to a seventh year Slytherin girl, stopping her in the common room before she could head up to her dormitory. “Can you grab Skeeter for me?” Amycus requested and she gave him an uncaring nod. Normally, he’d wait for her to just happen to come down but he was too tense to be patient. When she emerged from the stairwell, he fought a smirk. “Evening, Rita. Care for a walk?” He nodded over to the exit and before she could reply and he started to lead her out.

@writingritaskeeter

[kierenavery]

It came as no shock to Kieren to see Rita watching him over her book in the Common Room. If he knew anything about her it was that she loved a good scandal and, as much as he hated to admit it that was exactly what his year had been so far. Since his mother had left really, the Avery family name had lost clout, and now an engagement to Andromeda was supposed to help or something. Still, he had very little interest in hashing this out, especially with her.

 “Rita, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

@wordsofpoison

[deadthenalive-blog]

@xoxogossiprita 1st January 1982 3:04

By the time he’s left the elevator, he already knows he’s missed them- there are people stumbling away, rushing about in chaos around him, and in his alarm it only takes a glimpse of a familiar face that has Regulus ducking away, pulling himself into the shadows in an effort not to be noticed. It’s sheer panic that overtakes at first, a momentarily beat of incoherent fear that freezes him, presses him to dark corners and tries to make himself unseen, not even for fear of being recognized- because Gods there are so many people too many people and he can’t think-

He doesn’t know how long- seconds, minutes that it takes for the anxiety to force itself back down, and by that time only stragglers remain, and then they too are gone in a rush, and Regulus is alone, and- they’re gone. They’re gone. Relief, first. Somewhere in the mess with his unfocused gaze, he had seen them leave, so that meant they were safe, even if he wasn’t with them. And then. Foolish. Thoughtless. He shouldn’t have come at all. Later he’ll convince himself it was for the best that he missed them, if only by a few, precious moments- but there’s still a what-if that lingers in his mind, a hint of a second longer than it should, berating himself for the lack of thought that only seems to occur now to his mind.

The seconds tick past in the stillness, infinitely slow, but his heartbeat is still too loud in his chest, every breath in the stillness far, far too loud. By the time he can notice it, there’s a sensation at the back of his neck, it’s one he pays no mind to until the feeling draws to his lips, his eyes, tingling and curious, and when he draws up a hand to touch his face he realizes then that he can feel the skin beneath his fingers not quite changing but changing all the same. Morphing. Shit. His breath catches, alarm mixing with controlled panic- and bile claws at his throat when the tingling sensation continues, stretches across his face, and he knows its trying to pull away at these features that are not his. The Polyjuice is wearing off.

So he needs to go, now. He pulls out of the shadows, tries to orientate himself and retrace his steps- an immediate sort of desperation has taken hold, the absolute need for escape. But then just as he steps out, a series of hurried footfalls makes itself known in the silence, someone rounds the corner before he can even step back and-

Rita Skeeter.

He sees her the moment she sees him, eyes widening momentarily and he’s stopped midstep in his surprise, and at least she looks just as shocked as he is to see him (but perhaps he just imagines that)- there’s already something on the tip of his tongue, trapped before it can get out as he looks at her, features settling back into something that refuses to show his alarm. Why is she here. But even as he’s wondering that the scratching sensation continues, slowly and traitorously trails down to his neck- he pushes it back by sheer force of will. He can’t do anything now but pray his features have not yet bled back to their normal contour, and he can’t do anything but pray they won’t during the course of the following few minutes (he’s not sure she’d recognize him even so, but he doesn’t care to find out).

“-It’s that way,” he says- relieved when his voice still sounds like whoever his Polyjuice face was, and he glances at her before across to the side where people have rushed away not minutes ago, “We’re the last people left still here.”