Rita Skeeter leads a scandalous love life. (ex_busybody681) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-02-01 02:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-02] february, rita skeeter, walden macnair |
Who: Walden Macnair and Rita Skeeter
Where: Rita's Flat in Grindylow Gardens
When: Sunday, 1 February 1980- Around 1 AM
Summary: Walden comes over to give Rita a piece of his mind and tell her not to ruin his wedding article just because she has a grudge.
Rating: A for Angry PG
Walden wished that he could claim to be a calm sort of man but that was simply not the case. His uncle had always warned that a poor temper could be the downfall of a man and as hard as Walden tried, he could not seem to control his anger. He did make it a point to not take his rages out on people and instead focused it on breakable items in his home, a coping mechanism he'd passed onto his sister rather recently. Every now and again something would happen, something so enraging that not even the destruction of an entire pottery gallery could quell his anger, and Walden would yell. Not usually at people but occasionally someone would bear the brunt of his frustration. Today that person was Rita Skeeter. Walden found himself on the familiar doorstep of Rita's flat, a place he had not been in a very long while, and he raised his fist to the door. He lifted a finger to cover the peephole and he waited, hoping that he'd caught the meddling woman at home. Today had been grueling. Sitting at that lunch, watching Jacqueline 'The Infant Wonder ' Wilkes fawn over Walden was enough to make Rita’s head pierce, but watching him play along to their obviously fake love story had put the icing on the cake. Why had she agreed to write this article? Why was she torturing herself? There was a reason she left the Society Section, and this was it. There was nothing real in society, it was all smoke screens and fancy parties, and when her ex-lover was the subject of it all? Well, it caused Rita to drink. She’d come home and laid her notes out on the coffee table, fully intending on writing, or at least getting a start on the article, but every quote made her want to vomit. She hated weddings in general, but this was the worst of them all. In order to soothe her constant headache, and perhaps get a new perspective on the article, Rita poured herself a glass of scotch. And then another. And then another. And then there was a knock on her door. Putting her glass down on the table in exchange for her wand, Rita approached it cautiously. Why anyone would call at this late an hour was beyond her, and the covered peephole could not be a good sign. A nervous feeling began to tie knots in her stomach, but when she opened the door to find Walden, they all disappeared and a look of sheer boredom spread across her features. "Miss me already?" His jaw tightened and he glanced up and down the hallway before pushing into her flat. He didn't care about decency or decorum much at the moment. All he wanted was an outlet and some answers as a result. "It's impossible to miss something you'd much like to be rid of. What are you playing at, writing this article? If you're interested in getting back at me I'd prefer you leave Jacqueline out of it." "Come on in." Rita muttered to herself as he pushed his way through the door without so much as an invitation. He was angry. Which meant he had no clue about this article's author until this afternoon, therefore dispelling her first guess when she'd received Jacqueline's owl. "I'm not playing at anything, Walden. I'm a journalist, I write articles, and it was your precious fiancé that specifically requested me to cover your happy day. This was not my idea." With a hand to her head to rub the quickly returning headache away, Rita used her free one to take up the glass of scotch she'd placed down earlier. "It's sweet of you to pretend to care, though. I'm certain your treasured Jacqueline would be flattered, and she'd touch your hand just so to let you know she appreciated it." Snickering into her glass, Rita took another sip of her drink because Merlin knew she needed it now more than ever. "You're no more a journalist than I am an animal rights activist. Half the things you write about are complete tripe, twisted around in that demon brain of yours." He glanced at the drink in her hand and contemplated taking the bottle for his own but decided against it. He was not there for a social call and the drink would only cloud his mind. His plan was to yell, insult, and then leave. It was a good plan, he thought. "And stop trying to make this wedding into some sort of farce. It's happening, like it or no. It might not be some fairytale romance from one of those trash novels I know you read but it works." She was used to his insults about her job, and therefore didn't feel the need to defend herself. She was one of the best journalists in the Wizarding Media, if not the best overall; just because she twisted some facts around didn't make her pieces tripe. She got read. People knew who she was, which was more than she could say for Macnair. "I don't have to try and turn it into a farce, that's what it is. You're getting married because you grew tired of all your friends badgering you to produce an heir to the ever-respected Macnair bloodline, so you decided to propose to the first eligible girl you could find. It's completely hypocritical and pathetic. But don't worry, I won't put that in the article; we wouldn't want to hurt little Jacqueline's feelings, now would we?" He'd forgotten exactly how much he hated this woman. She always brought out something in him changed him into a different person. Things with Rita had always been so complicated and even after his time of reflection he still couldn't understand what had kept them coming back to each other. Their nights were always the same. He would vent, she would vent, they would fight, they would have sex, he would leave. Somehow the dynamic worked for them but he'd been betrayed and it had ended badly, leaving both persons wounded and holding a heavy grudge. "You shouldn't speak so confidently about things you know nothing about. You should have just said no. It would have been easy to say no but you found some sick joy in writing this article, I'm sure. Now I have to pay you to scrutinize every single detail of this wedding and I am telling you, a threat and a promise, if you do anything to ruin this wedding I will do everything in my power to end you. I have the means and the motive to do so." "Not that it matters at all, but I would have had a hard time saying no. You see, both Chloris Burke and Narcissa Malfoy recommended me to your blushing bride, and doing a favour for both of the two most powerful women in society, puts me in a very nice position. Saying no could have made things quite icy, at least between me and Mrs. Burke. So no, saying no was not as easy as you think." She took another gulp of her drink and walked to the coffee table where her notes were spread out in a messy array. Thumbing through some pieces of parchment, she finally found the piece she was looking for and turned back to Walden. "Do you honestly think that I care so much about our fling over a year ago to risk my career? Would seeing what I have written help you sleep tonight?" She turned the parchment so that he could see it, and began to read aloud. "Although some might look at the marriage between Jacqueline Wilkes and Walden Macnair and raise their eyebrow, anyone who has seen the two together knows there is no such need. There is nothing but pure, unadulterated love between these two purebloods, and it is evident whenever you see them together." Her eyes skimmed down the parchment, "blah blah blah family family blah blah wedding stuff goes here blah blah quotes from family and friends, et cetera...ah! From simply witnessing the ceremony and reception of the happy newlyweds, I can say with complete certainty that I now have proof that true love know no age." Rita handed Walden the parchment for him to look over himself as she finished the rest of her glass. "Contrary to what may go on in your sick and twisted head, I enjoy my job, and I wouldn't risk it for some petty squabble with you." His fists were clenched at his sides and he felt an overpowering urge to reach out and use one of them to knock the smug look clean off Rita's face. He wasn't exactly sure why he was so angry or what had compelled him to show up at her flat in the early hours of the morning but there he was, seething and standing just feet away from her. It was odd, he thought, how times could change. Had this been a year ago the situation would end much differently but at the moment Walden could do nothing but stand there and urge himself not to reach out and tear her precious article in two. "I'd say it's the best you've ever written. You should have stuck with the society section, I think. It's much more your level." After Walden’s comment, Rita looked to him with a face that asked, ‘you can’t really be serious’ before snatching the parchment away. “Are you done with your threat then?” It was clear Rita was not amused, nor was she likely to continue to put up with this. Already, she was feeling the familiar feeling of a year ago rise up inside of her, but she pushed it down. The smart part of her didn’t want to put up with that anymore, even if part of it felt absolutely amazing. “Have you said all that you wanted to say? I’m so glad you came over to assert your manhood and power, Walden. I’d forgotten you had any at all.” "I've said my piece. Do not drag me or anyone associated with me through the mud or I'll see to it that you and your silly quill never publish another article. You'll be begging for a job with Lovegood." He took a calculated step back and turned to leave, his heart still pounding with unreleased anger. He turned the knob and glanced back, eying the notes and the booze and then finally lifted his eyes to hers. "Please keep it simple. Don't riddle this with your stretches of the truth and your glamorous fibs. Jacqueline came to you because she trusts you to give her an article that she can look back in and remember with a joyful tear or nostalgic smile. Don't take that away from her because you want to toss me a cutting blow. Let's leave our past to us." She listened to him, but said nothing. Instead she tried to actually process what he was saying. Much to her surprise, it sounded like he actually wanted this ridiculous charade to be real, he was actually trying to be nice, and kind, and take care of his pathetic excuse for a wife. Try as she might, she couldn’t wrap her head around that concept. It just didn’t make sense. After everything he’d told her…how could so much change in a year? But she was tired of fighting him; tired of him and his inexplicable change, so instead of arguing back, she’d just ask him to leave. “Good night, Walden. I’ll see you on Saturday.” No agreement to his wishes, no witty remarks, just that simple reply with perhaps the most remote tinge of sadness in her voice. This was done. They were closed. And after this coming weekend, she would not have to deal with Walden or the infant who changed his life again. |