Back out in the windy but beautiful, sunny weather that was currently gracing the Hogsmeade streets, the young couple made their way hand-in-hand down the pavement toward the bustling pub.
They shared a brief kiss right before pushing past the entrance doors, a public display of affection that was immediately met with a thunderous roar of applause and wolf-whistles from the crowded tables.
Hermione blushed pink, refreshing her cardigan, "I guess students in castle had spread the news?"
"Seems that way, pet..." Lucifer said, a lopsided, charming smile breaking across his lips.
"Oh, look over there," She pointed out quickly onto a specific corner, "Luna Lovegood is already sitting at the table with Rita Skeeter."
"On a scale of one to ten, exactly how badly do your think Skeeter wants to rip her own hair out from listening to Luna's theories?" Lucifer joked dryly. He reached out, left palm rubbing soothingly over the side of her wild, bushy hair before his fingers grazed over newly pierced earlobe to adjust the earring.
It was a reality that vast majority of the school were annoyed by Luna's eccentric speech and bizarre topics. You truly had to be a dedicated friend of her to not be completely put off or disturbed by what conspiracy was running through her mind at any given moment.
"I'd say a solid nine at the least," Hermione giggled softly, swelling with warmth as she led the way across the crowded room to sit down at the table with Skeeter and Luna.
Lucifer stepped up to bar counter to procure them a round of Butterbeer, an errand that took no time at all. As Hermione lowered onto the wooden bench, she immediately realized the sweet drink wouldn't even begin to compare to the exotic Genmaicha tea she had consumed earlier.
There was simply something completely different about 'Madam Puddifoot's' brewing methods, and Hermione had made a note to definitely return to that pink shop next Hogsmeade weekend, though, she promised herself she would do so without those maddening balls shoved inside her.
"Hermione! Lucifer!" Luna greeted them cheerily in her usual voice, her eyes wide,"I was genuinely beginning to wonder when you would show up at the pub and save me from the dreadful torment of this miserable woman's presence."
"Save 'you?! You've been going on and on in a mad loop for the past hour about the Minister's supposed private army of Heliopaths!" Rita Skeeter hissed angrily, her long fake nails tapping her parchment, which contained few curls of beautiful mane.
"You better watch your tone, Skeeter," Lucifer said coldly, dropping the butterbeer mugs onto the wood with a solid thud as he slid onto the bench beside Hermione, "I would hate for something unfortunate to happen to you while I am on holidays."
The table alignment was done: Lucifer and Hermione on one side, Rita Skeeter sitting directly across from them, and Luna Lovegood claimed the bench on their immediate left.
"I couldn't help but notice the stone glinting on her finger, Morningstar..." Rita Skeeter said with a wicked, teasing smirk, her eyes onto the ruby promise ring, "Did you two go ahead and seal the deal behind closed doors?"
"Write that down in your gossip if you want to, Skeeter," Lucifer said openly, looking at her face, "But if you misconstrues our relationship in any possible, malicious way to sell papers, I will kill you. Plain and simple."
A sudden wave of cold terror hit the journalist's chest. Rita Skeeter merely nodded, her hand frantically jotting down a safe fact onto her notepad stating that Hermione Granger was promised to Lucifer Morningstar, news that was already independently worth a thousand gold Galleons to the underground markets.
"Don't worry, Morningstar, I think I have already formulated a grand idea as to what I'll write about you two that won't anger either in slightest," Skeeter said, crossing her silk-clad legs tightly over one another as she took a nervous sip of her 'Fireball Whiskey' to steady her hands.
Lucifer took a calm sip of butterbeer as well, eyes turning to his girlfriend.
"So, the reason I asked to meet you today is fairly simple---" Hermione began, clearing her throat.
"You mean blackmailed me today..." Rita Skeeter corrected her sharply, her jaw clenching.
"Semantics, Rita," Hermione said dismissively, waving a hand, "But regardless of the wooly past---" She abruptly stopped her sentence mid-breath when noticed a towering shadow, Hagrid, leaving the main bar area, revealing Harry Potter standing awkwardly alone by the counter, "Harry! Harry, over here at our table!"
Harry turned his head at the shout, his eyes widening in panic as he registered Luna Lovegood sitting right there at the bench. His instinct screamed to turn around and bolt out into the street, but inner Gryffindor bravery held his ground, stopping the giddy flush and the sudden beating of his heart.
He walked over to their table with a thoroughly surprised, defensive expression plastered across his face, "What are---"
"You're early for the meeting, Harry!" Hermione said happily, shifting her books as Luna dreamily moved over on the bench to give Harry plenty of room to sit down directly between herself and Ravenclaw's shoulder, "I thought you would be spending the entire afternoon with Cho? Lucifer and I saw you inside Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop with her just a few minutes before we left the venue. We weren't expecting you for another hour at the least."
At that tactless announcement, Harry felt an intense urge to invoke a dragon's might and drown the bushy-haired girl straight in her half-drunk glass of Butterbeer right then and there. 'Can she not read the room? And Gryffindor's have the nerve to call her the Brightest Witch of her Age, while she sits there poking needles into my dating life in front of Luna....'
"Cho Chang?" Rita Skeeter asked instantly, her gossip instincts flaring as she twisted around in her seat to stare avidly at Harry's completely burning face. "A Ravenclaw girl, Potter?" She immediately snatched up her crocodile-skin handbag, her fingers aggressively groping around within the leather for her quill.
"Alright, that's enough," Lucifer said, carrying a command that made Skeeter's fingers freeze instantly, "It is none of your business if Harry was out with Chang, or any other girl for that matter. You are sitting at this table strictly to report on what Hermione wants you to write, and that is it. No extra gossip details that are irrelevant."
"I have yet to actually hear these grand details you speak of, Granger," Skeeter pointed out, her jaw setting once more.
"Details that don't talk about Harry's private love life, for starters," Hermione said firmly, taking it upon herself to defend the boy's honor, "He doesn't require lines of extra slander written about his name."
"The 'Daily Prophet' has already run plenty of horrible stories about Harry's mental state this school year without my help," Rita said, shooting a cynical, sideways glance over at the 'Boy Who Lived,' "How has that national campaign made you feel, Harry? Betrayed by the Ministry? Distraught? Completely misunderstood by your peers?"
"He feels angry, of course," Hermione answered in a hard, clear voice before the boy could stumble.
"I do feel angry," Harry joined in, his eyes flashing with determination as he watched the journalist, "Because the Minister is sitting idly by in his office, letting Voldemort---"
Rita winced violently at the name, her shoulders shaking. But Harry suppressed the urge to hex her hair off, "--letting him regrow his Death Eater count. Starting with the ones who were already operating out of Azkaban, the ones I saw standing in that graveyard last June... and now the ten infamous ones who just escaped custody days ago."
"So you are stubbornly sticking to that
story, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Rita asked, a sharp glint illuminating her eyes as she leaned forward, "You're saying the Dark Lord is actually back in a body? And regrowing his old followers?"
"I am," Harry said with a finality, "I can give you their names right now if you want them?"
"I'd love to have those," Skeeter said, her fingers fumbling around in her bag once more as she gazed at Harry as though he were the most beautiful, profitable headline she had ever seen in her career. "A great, bold front-page headline: 'Potter Accuses...', a magnificent subheading: 'Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Still Among Us.' And then, right beneath a nice, big moving photograph of your face: 'Disturbed, attention-seeking teenage survivor of You-Know-Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused national outrage yesterday by maliciously accusing respectable and prominent members of the Wizarding Community of being Death Eaters..."
The enchanted Quick-Quotes Quill was actually clutched in her hand and halfway to her mouth when rapturous expression died out of her face.
"But of course..." She said, her voice dropping into a bitter sneer as she lowered her quill, looking daggers straight at Hermione's face for a second before glancing away to avoid Lucifer's potential curse striking her neck. Rita had spent a vast amount of gold over the break trying to get rid of the residual dark marks from her previous run-ins, but to no success, "Little Miss Perfect here wouldn't want that story out, would she?"
"As a matter of fact...." Hermione said slowly, a dark, triumphant smirk curling onto her lips as she looked across the table, "That is exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want from you today." She smirked widely at the thoroughly dubious, stunned faces belonging to both Rita and Harry.
Lucifer smiled warmly at the strategy, while beside his arm, Luna Lovegood was busy singing "Weasley Is Our King" dreamily under her breath, idly stirring her gillywater drink with a cocktail onion on a stick, "It's a rather catchy song, right, Luna?" He asked with a chuckle.
She nodded her head happily, her protuberant eyes blinking, "Of course, Lucifer. It's easily one of my favourites."
Weasley is our King
Weasley is our King
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King
Hermione sharply smacked his shoulder from behind the table without even looking at his face, cheeks flushing as she realized the weirdness ran deep in his family.
"You want me to report what Harry says about You-Know-Who's return?" Rita asked, wanting to clarify what the bird's nest of hair was saying right now.
"Yes, I do," Hermione said in a firm affirmation, nodding her entire head to show her stance, "The true story. All the unedited facts, exactly as Harry reports them from the graveyard. He'll give you all the graphic details, precise names of all the undiscovered Death Eaters he saw standing there, and he'll tell public what Voldemort looks like now..."
When the forbidden name cleared her mouth, Rita cringed horribly, shaking violently in denial.
"You do realize the 'Daily Prophet' will never, under any circumstances, print this story, right?" She spat, her voice tight, "In case your little school mind hasn't noticed, nobody in this country believes his cock-and-bull story. Everyone thinks the boy is delusional. Now, if you let me write strictly from that an----"
"No," Lucifer said simply, his voice cutting her off.
"We don't need another trash story about how Harry has allegedly lost his marbles, Skeeter!" Hermione said angrily, slamming her palm flat against the wooden table. The sudden impact caused the nearby mugs to rattle, spilling a tiny bit of juice onto the side of the table, "We've had plenty of those articles as it is, stating he was just looking for attenti---"
"Harry deserves the proper chance to tell the truth that no one in Ministry wants to listen to right now," Lucifer reached up, rubbing his shoulder in fake pain from her slap to which Hermione rolled her eyes at dramatics; he had deliberately cut her off before she could unknowingly insult their friend's standing further.
"There is no commercial market for a story like that!" Skeeter said coldly to the dunder head, she would never take this girl to work as her new assistant, her previous one had fled without even leaving a note.
"You mean the 'Daily Prophet' won't print it simply because Cornelius Fudge won't legally let them," Hermione spat back at her.
Rita gave her a long, hard look across the wood. Then, leaning her body forward across the table toward her face, she spoke in a business-like, sharp tone. "Alright, let's chat: Fudge is leaning on the 'Prophet's' editorial staff, but it comes to the same thing... They won't print what shows Harry in a good light. Nobody in Britain wants to read it. It is completely against the public mood. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough as it is, people just don't want to believe You-Know-Who is back."
"And that denial is going to get lots of naive and innocent people killed the longer his return is denied," Lucifer said darkly.
"So the 'Daily Prophet' exists strictly to tell people what they want to hear, does it?" Hermione almost demanded from Skeeter.
Rita sat up perfectly straight, penciled eyebrows raised. She reached down, downing what was left of her Fireball Whiskey in swallow before slamming her glass down."The Prophet exists to sell itself, you silly girl."
"That's arguing for basic semantics, Skeeter," Lucifer glared at Rita, a suffocating pressure dropping over her chair, "I would have happily paid a visit to Barnabas Cuffe, the paper's supposed editor, if I knew where his house was located in country or if he even existed at all."
The threat caused her to squirm uncomfortably in her seat.
"My dad thinks it's an awful paper," Luna said, chipping into the heavy conversation unexpectedly. Sucking on her cocktail onion, she gazed at Rita with her enormous, protuberant, slightly mad eyes. "He publishes important stories that he thinks the people need to know, doesn't care about making money at all."
Rita looked disparagingly over at Luna's face. "I'm guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter?" She said with a mocking chuckle, "Twenty-five ways to 'Mingle with Muggles' and the dates for the next local 'Bring-and-Fly' sale?"
"No," Luna said serenely, dipping her onion back into her gillywater glass, "He's the chief editor of The Quibbler."
xxxxxxx
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