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FRONT PAGE NEWS
disappear;
magpie; smut
In Rita Skeeter's hectic life of romance and intrigue, there was only one thing
that she could really be sure of: the moment she stepped into The Three
Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta would be right there with a warm glass of
butterbeer for her.
Well...maybe it wouldn't always be immediate, or even particularly warm, but
eventually the butterbeer got there, and that was what really mattered.
On this particular occasion, it was near closing and there was nobody else
there but Madam Rosmerta and Rita, so the butterbeer ended up on Rita's table,
and then in her hand, and then in her mouth and then warming her belly almost
immediately. After the first sip, she sighed happily. "You know, Madam
Rosmerta, despite your tainted past, you are still my very favorite person in
the world. If you were to disappear suddenly and tragically, I don't know what
I'd do."
Madam Rosmerta, used to declarations of this sort, merely smiled as she cast a
dusting spell over the bar. "I imagine you'd find another barkeep with a
tainted past to serve you your butterbeer. I even imagine you'd publish smut
about them on page three right next to the Wicked Witch of the Week, too, so I
can't possibly be that irreplacable."
"Oh, that was nothing personal," Rita said breezily. "If you
don't want people to find out about your affairs with certain former Quidditch
players, you should really cast privacy spells that aren't so easy to disable.
And also keep your curtains shut, but thats just common sense."
"Yes, well. If you want to keep getting free butterbeer, you'd best keep
your nose out of my privacy spells, Rita Skeeter." Madam Rosmerta tried
her best to make her voice stern, but she couldn't help smiling as she placed
another bottle on Rita's table.
"I do have to say, though, I did like that last little outfit you put on,
right before the article came out. The one with the lace and the magpie
feathers? It really brought out your eyes." Rita looked down at the table,
but it didn't really conceal her blush. The glasses tended to reflect
everything from her cheeks down when she tilted her face a certain way.
When she looked up again, Madam Rosmerta was still smiling. "Why, Rita.
Were you thinking of having a torrid affair with me?"
"Scorching," Rita said. Much like her cheeks. "Absolutely
scarlet. Blazingly scandalous."
"Well, then," Madam Rosmerta said. "Just let me sweep behind the
bar, and then we'll be off. I'll even wear the corset with the magpie
feathers."
Amazingly enough, to Rita there were, in fact, things in life that were even
better than free butterbeer or a front page scoop.
END
