The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

C: Kissing a Fool

"I know why you're here and there's nothing you could offer me that would make me keep this out of the column so you might as well not waste your breath, Aletrick," Rita Skeeter's nasally tone broke the trance, freeing Declan from his stare at the gut-wrenching image of his boyfriend of five years having his Careless Whisper moment with the man who walked away from him all those years ago. Declan's eyes moved to meet Rita's, but her make up was so garish and severe that he had to look away again, so he looked at her Quick Quotes Quill. "I knew the moment I got the photograph that you'd be snaking about here," she chuckled.

Declan said, "I'm sure there's some kind of an agreement we can work out. Something that you want that could be arranged for the sale of the story. I mean, it's only right, a story so big as that for my client, that his PR release it instead of you. Let me spin it at least."

Rita smiled. "Are you asking me as Oliver Kent's PR or as his boyfriend, Deccy?"

Declan sighed. "Does it matter?"

"No," Rita's grin only deepened, "It's just the yummiest bit of gossip that we've had in a long while to talk about and let's face it, there's not much that's going to pull attention to the gossip column today with all that's going on in the front pages but this - this may just do it. When the shock and awe of what happened in the foreground of the attack wears off, people will be wondering about some of our favorites that were in attendance and so they'll turn to me and here they'll see the star-crossed lovers of old, the it-couple of the 80s, reunited in the throws of their horror at the World Cup!"

Declan rubbed his forehead. When she put it like that, he could totally see why she wouldn't want to give the story up. It really was going to make readers go absolutely wild. There wasn't a single reader of the celebrity gossip columns back then that hadn't hung on every dramatic step in a long and on-going public sequence that had been the break-up of Oliver Kent and Wally Grant.

"The only thing better than this scoop would be the cover byline itself," Rita was continuing on. "Have you heard who's got that? I haven't heard yet."

Declan opened his eyes.

The bargaining chip had been presented. The one thing he had that she didn't that she would want.

His voice shook, "I did."

"Who got it?" she asked, thinking he meant that he had heard.

Declan said, "I got it."

"You?" Rita laughed, "Stop wanking around and tell me who really got it."

"I got it," Declan repeated. "Everything happened in the woods just past Oliver Kent's tent, actually, and I'd gone to check Oliver was alright, and he'd already left the tent but what do I see instead but Harry Potter himself run into the trees with his friends and he gets separated from the others and it's chaos and there's all these aurors just flying about screaming at one another and none of them notices that Harry -fucking- Potter is unguarded and what's Harry do but drop his wand - just like his father, that one, doesn't pay enough attention to his wand - and this bleeding house elf picks it up --"

Rita's face was wild-eyed - jealousy, rage, interest, hunger, desperation... all present in the expression on her face. She licked her lips.

Declan paused, "Anyway, you can read all about it in my article tomorrow. I've got to go get that wrapped up and since you're not giving up the Kent story for anything, I suppose I should leave you to it and get to writing my own article. All I have is loads and loads of detailed notes but nothing written just yet - bloody hell, I've such a lot to do." He turned on the ball of his foot and started back to his own cubicle.

Every step felt like a stab to the heart.

Part of him hoped she didn't follow after him, even though he knew-knew-knew that she would.

He'd made it back and sat down in his seat before she came. He was pretending to be typing on the Processor when she practically threw herself into his cubical and sat down on the edge of his desk. Rita's long hot pink nails clicking on the desktop as she tapped her fingers there to draw his attention to her.

Declan looked up. "Yes?"

She hesitated, then, "I might be willing to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" he asked, sitting back in his seat.

"Yes, a deal."

"What sort of deal?"

"I'll give you all my dirty-dirty news on Oliver Kent if you give me the byline."

Declan should've got an award for the reaction he gave. "Piss off," he said, "Give up a byline for gossip trash? I'd have to be mad."

"Mad. Or else madly in love," Rita simpered.

Declan felt his throat constrict. It was true. He was. 

Who else would give up the career-making headline of the decade for some shit about a quidditch player making out with his ex-husband?

Declan reached across the desk and turned the George Michael mug back the right way.

But remember this
Every other kiss
That you ever give
Long as we both live
When you need the hand of another man
One you really can surrender with

I will wait for you

Like I always do

There's something there

That can't compare with any other...

Declan sighed and looked up at Rita Skeeter, whose expression was flickering with hope now.

"I need a signed non-disclosure on the Kent-Grant story, including a gag for six months."

"Four."

"Five," Declan countered.

Rita quickly did some math in her head and then nodded, "Five will do."

He did the same math. Blast, the anniversary, Declan realized he'd given her the perfect number of months to maximize on the release of the gag order. Oh well, he'd deal with that when they got to it in January. Maybe by then he'd have figured out a way to spin things so that it wouldn't be the shocking scandal of the decade.

"Done," he said. He reached into his desk for a non-disclosure with the gag clause and grabbed one of the sparkling quills from George, filled in the dates and topic and held it out to her. By now, these contracts were so loaded for both of them - the number of news stories they'd both covered up for each other was like a complex web. Either one of them breaking one of these contracts were a surefire way for them both to go down in flames. It would set off a ten year domino effect of cover-ups.

If either of them ever broke the contract, neither of them would ever be able to publish anything under their own names again.

Or at least not their current pseudonyms.

Declan signed his side of it with a flourish. He handed her the sheet. She started to sign it and he hissed, "No, no. You know better, use your real name honey."

Rita eyed him a moment. One of these times, she'd get away with signing it Rita... and when she did... She scrawled out her signature.

Declan smiled, "Thank you Jo." He smirked. "The name does not fit you at all."

She sniffed. 

"Now go fetch my notes and that disgusting photograph so I can set it on everlasting fire."

Rita stood up, disappeared for a moment, and came back with the photograph and the parchment she'd been working on as well as one that she'd started at the camp ground, too. She held up the poison-green quill she'd been working with, too, and laid it nearly on the stack of things, which she laid on his desk top in front of George Michael's watching eyes. "And where are my notes for my byline?"

Declan pulled out a manilla envelope and held it up.

She snapped the envelope from his hand.

"Pleasure as always, Deccy," she said, and she buzzed away merrily, practically skipping as she went.

Declan looked at George Michael's eyes.

Strange that I was wrong enough
To think you'd love me too
I guess you were kissing a fool...
You must have been kissing a fool...