FIC: "In the Shadow of a Black Hole" for miramiraficfic
Recipient: miramiraficfic
Author/Artist: ???
Title: In the Shadow of a Black Hole
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Andromeda Tonks/Rita Skeeter
Word Count: ~1200
Medium: Fic
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *None*.
Summary: Why did she let Rita Skeeter into her home?
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to M. for reading. Thank you to the mod for being so incredibly patient!
Why did she let Rita Skeeter into her home?
Andromeda isn't sure why.
Maybe it's the boredom. Maybe it's the grief.
Maybe she's looking for trouble.
Nymphadora got that trait from her. Not Ted.
Chest tightening at the thought of her daughter, Andromeda turns her attention back to Rita. She doesn't like her - never has, not even during their Hogwarts days - so the reporter is a good distraction from the pain of sorrow.
"Let's see." Rita spreads a parchment flat on the coffee table. Andromeda's skin crawls at the sight of her nails. Long and sharp, they resemble talons. Just like--
***
The questions are easy. Gentle. Rita asks nothing about her dead husband or her murdered daughter. She must have learnt from the experience with Hermione Granger. Andromeda overheard that story when Hermione told it to Teddy.
Instead, Rita wants to know about Andromeda's past. Her life as a Black. Her expulsion from the ancient house of purebloods. It's old stuff, questions Andromeda ignored before. She didn't want to be a celebrity then, and she doesn't want to be one now, but she answers anyway.
Then it starts.
Surely, surely, Andromeda must have agreed with her family's beliefs a tiny, tiny bit.
No? No?
***
The questions come faster. Rita can barely scribble fast enough to keep up with her own words. They are about Ted and Nymphadora. Even a few about Lupin.
Andromeda flat out refuses to answer anything about Teddy. He's a baby, too young to be dragged into the wizarding tabloids with lurid descriptions of his "wolf-like jaw."
Rita, sensing she will not budge on the subject of her grandson, moves to a new topic. "Lovely," she mutters as she thinks. She's said it several times; Andromeda doesn't see anything "lovely" about this situation.
Why did she let Rita Skeeter into her home?
***
She hasn't said anything in minutes, but Rita's quill is still going. Sitting up, Andromeda looks at the parchment, trying to figure out what lies are being recorded.
Rita's been here twenty minutes, and she still doesn't know why she let her in. She also doesn't know why Rita knocked on her door in the first place, but that's beside the point.
Raising a toddler keeps her busy, but there's no one to talk to anymore. No Ted to watch the Muggle news with. No more stories from Nymphadora, the stories that made her laugh and worry at the same time.
Rita fusses with the sleeve of her jacket, tugging it just so. She's watching Andromeda watch her, using her years of experience in interviewing to find the right moment to strike.
She can tell the other woman is bored, and that's right where she wants her. Boredom frees tongues, as does indignation, and she's worked some of both into this meeting. It's so easy to play people. It's Rita's favorite game, and she likes the rush of power almost as much as she likes the admiration of her fans.
Unlike Andromeda, Rita knows exactly why she's here, and what she's after.
***
Rita really would have preferred to have someone else across from her, but Andromeda will do. Andromeda is second best, the white sheep of the blackest family, but she looks more than a little like her older sister. And if Rita can provoke her properly, she might bring out some of that fire and ambition that made Bellatrix so desirable.
Bellatrix was no prize at the end, mad and gaunt, but in their youth, Rita had wanted to be her. No one was like Bella, who flaunted power like it was magic.
Bellatrix had been Rita's first crush. She'd been obsessed.
***
During the first war, Rita had heard plenty about Bellatrix's activities from her contacts. Nothing firm enough for the Ministry to use until the end, but every story had been like a dose of Amortentia.
Rita hadn't been disgusted by the dark tales. Nothing disgusted her, other than a missed story or a lost opportunity to up her reputation.
No, the rumors had intrigued her. She'd collected clippings from the Prophet, labeling them research for an eventual book.
At Bellatrix's trial, Rita had been impressed by her regal attitude. Queen-like even in chains. It was wrong, but she'd been aroused.
***
Rita brings herself back to the present moment. It's a skill she's learned, to think about other things while her subjects babble. She doesn't want to hear all of their drivel.
But now, the moment is right. She can read it in Andromeda's face. Her expression is one of haughty boredom, so like Rita remembers Bellatrix's being during N.E.W.T. Charms.
"Do you miss her?" A pause. "Bella?" She shapes the name delicately, tongue curling around the syllables.
A pause.
Then her back is against the wall, Andromeda's hands at her collar.
Rita realizes too late she's gotten caught up in her own game.
This ... this ... this is why Rita is here.
Andromeda feels like a fool, both for falling into Rita's trap and for letting her control slip. It wasn't the questions about her husband or daughter that did it, but the one about her sister.
She should have known. She should have seen the sick light in Rita's eyes, the desire lurking behind those rhinestone-studded glasses.
Rita is not the first to come to her, hoping to find some shred of her sister within her. But Rita might have been one of the very first to fall under Bellatrix's spell. Images flash through Andromeda's mind as she holds Rita to the wall, all of a scrawny girl with big blonde curls trailing after her and Bellatrix.
She had been in Bellatrix's orbit then, too.
But Andromeda gravitated out of it, claimed a life for herself. People like Rita pull her right back in, or try to - she has never lost control like this. They all want some of the darkness within her, the darkness she has concealed her whole life.
The red satin of Rita's jacket is bunched up in her fists, the fabric cool against her sweaty palms. It feels curiously good, to have Rita pressed up to the wall, held there by her strength and anger.
It's ... liberating.
Rita's shockingly scarlet lips - a bad shade for her, it clashes with her outfit - stand out, drawing Andromeda's attention. Suddenly, just as suddenly as she grabbed the other woman and pinned her to the wall, Andromeda wants to kiss her.
So she does.
To her surprise, Rita's mouth tastes much better than it should, with all the poison the woman spews. Andromeda's even more surprised when Rita doesn't struggle but surrenders, chin tilting up so she can kiss her more deeply.
Desire rushes through her, as quickly as her outrage did when she snapped, mere minutes ago. Rita isn't her first choice, nor her twentieth. But she's here, right in front of her, in her home. Andromeda throws off the rest of her control, one hand slipping down to the too short hem of Rita's skirt.
"Lovely," Rita gasps, and for the first time, Andromeda sees something lovely about the situation. The garish shade of Rita's lipstick doesn't bother her now, nor do the claws at the ends of Rita's fingers. Now Rita is just a woman, and a desirable one at that.
She kisses Rita again, and Rita responds, her sharp tongue slipping into Andromeda's mouth. Andromeda's fingers, her nails sensibly short, crawl up Rita's thigh, and together they swallow Rita's moan at the touch.
Maybe this is why she let Rita Skeeter into her home.
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Author/Artist: ???
Title: In the Shadow of a Black Hole
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Andromeda Tonks/Rita Skeeter
Word Count: ~1200
Medium: Fic
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *None*.
Summary: Why did she let Rita Skeeter into her home?
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to M. for reading. Thank you to the mod for being so incredibly patient!
Why did she let Rita Skeeter into her home?
Andromeda isn't sure why.
Maybe it's the boredom. Maybe it's the grief.
Maybe she's looking for trouble.
Nymphadora got that trait from her. Not Ted.
Chest tightening at the thought of her daughter, Andromeda turns her attention back to Rita. She doesn't like her - never has, not even during their Hogwarts days - so the reporter is a good distraction from the pain of sorrow.
"Let's see." Rita spreads a parchment flat on the coffee table. Andromeda's skin crawls at the sight of her nails. Long and sharp, they resemble talons. Just like--
***
The questions are easy. Gentle. Rita asks nothing about her dead husband or her murdered daughter. She must have learnt from the experience with Hermione Granger. Andromeda overheard that story when Hermione told it to Teddy.
Instead, Rita wants to know about Andromeda's past. Her life as a Black. Her expulsion from the ancient house of purebloods. It's old stuff, questions Andromeda ignored before. She didn't want to be a celebrity then, and she doesn't want to be one now, but she answers anyway.
Then it starts.
Surely, surely, Andromeda must have agreed with her family's beliefs a tiny, tiny bit.
No? No?
***
The questions come faster. Rita can barely scribble fast enough to keep up with her own words. They are about Ted and Nymphadora. Even a few about Lupin.
Andromeda flat out refuses to answer anything about Teddy. He's a baby, too young to be dragged into the wizarding tabloids with lurid descriptions of his "wolf-like jaw."
Rita, sensing she will not budge on the subject of her grandson, moves to a new topic. "Lovely," she mutters as she thinks. She's said it several times; Andromeda doesn't see anything "lovely" about this situation.
Why did she let Rita Skeeter into her home?
***
She hasn't said anything in minutes, but Rita's quill is still going. Sitting up, Andromeda looks at the parchment, trying to figure out what lies are being recorded.
Rita's been here twenty minutes, and she still doesn't know why she let her in. She also doesn't know why Rita knocked on her door in the first place, but that's beside the point.
Raising a toddler keeps her busy, but there's no one to talk to anymore. No Ted to watch the Muggle news with. No more stories from Nymphadora, the stories that made her laugh and worry at the same time.
Rita fusses with the sleeve of her jacket, tugging it just so. She's watching Andromeda watch her, using her years of experience in interviewing to find the right moment to strike.
She can tell the other woman is bored, and that's right where she wants her. Boredom frees tongues, as does indignation, and she's worked some of both into this meeting. It's so easy to play people. It's Rita's favorite game, and she likes the rush of power almost as much as she likes the admiration of her fans.
Unlike Andromeda, Rita knows exactly why she's here, and what she's after.
***
Rita really would have preferred to have someone else across from her, but Andromeda will do. Andromeda is second best, the white sheep of the blackest family, but she looks more than a little like her older sister. And if Rita can provoke her properly, she might bring out some of that fire and ambition that made Bellatrix so desirable.
Bellatrix was no prize at the end, mad and gaunt, but in their youth, Rita had wanted to be her. No one was like Bella, who flaunted power like it was magic.
Bellatrix had been Rita's first crush. She'd been obsessed.
***
During the first war, Rita had heard plenty about Bellatrix's activities from her contacts. Nothing firm enough for the Ministry to use until the end, but every story had been like a dose of Amortentia.
Rita hadn't been disgusted by the dark tales. Nothing disgusted her, other than a missed story or a lost opportunity to up her reputation.
No, the rumors had intrigued her. She'd collected clippings from the Prophet, labeling them research for an eventual book.
At Bellatrix's trial, Rita had been impressed by her regal attitude. Queen-like even in chains. It was wrong, but she'd been aroused.
***
Rita brings herself back to the present moment. It's a skill she's learned, to think about other things while her subjects babble. She doesn't want to hear all of their drivel.
But now, the moment is right. She can read it in Andromeda's face. Her expression is one of haughty boredom, so like Rita remembers Bellatrix's being during N.E.W.T. Charms.
"Do you miss her?" A pause. "Bella?" She shapes the name delicately, tongue curling around the syllables.
A pause.
Then her back is against the wall, Andromeda's hands at her collar.
Rita realizes too late she's gotten caught up in her own game.
This ... this ... this is why Rita is here.
Andromeda feels like a fool, both for falling into Rita's trap and for letting her control slip. It wasn't the questions about her husband or daughter that did it, but the one about her sister.
She should have known. She should have seen the sick light in Rita's eyes, the desire lurking behind those rhinestone-studded glasses.
Rita is not the first to come to her, hoping to find some shred of her sister within her. But Rita might have been one of the very first to fall under Bellatrix's spell. Images flash through Andromeda's mind as she holds Rita to the wall, all of a scrawny girl with big blonde curls trailing after her and Bellatrix.
She had been in Bellatrix's orbit then, too.
But Andromeda gravitated out of it, claimed a life for herself. People like Rita pull her right back in, or try to - she has never lost control like this. They all want some of the darkness within her, the darkness she has concealed her whole life.
The red satin of Rita's jacket is bunched up in her fists, the fabric cool against her sweaty palms. It feels curiously good, to have Rita pressed up to the wall, held there by her strength and anger.
It's ... liberating.
Rita's shockingly scarlet lips - a bad shade for her, it clashes with her outfit - stand out, drawing Andromeda's attention. Suddenly, just as suddenly as she grabbed the other woman and pinned her to the wall, Andromeda wants to kiss her.
So she does.
To her surprise, Rita's mouth tastes much better than it should, with all the poison the woman spews. Andromeda's even more surprised when Rita doesn't struggle but surrenders, chin tilting up so she can kiss her more deeply.
Desire rushes through her, as quickly as her outrage did when she snapped, mere minutes ago. Rita isn't her first choice, nor her twentieth. But she's here, right in front of her, in her home. Andromeda throws off the rest of her control, one hand slipping down to the too short hem of Rita's skirt.
"Lovely," Rita gasps, and for the first time, Andromeda sees something lovely about the situation. The garish shade of Rita's lipstick doesn't bother her now, nor do the claws at the ends of Rita's fingers. Now Rita is just a woman, and a desirable one at that.
She kisses Rita again, and Rita responds, her sharp tongue slipping into Andromeda's mouth. Andromeda's fingers, her nails sensibly short, crawl up Rita's thigh, and together they swallow Rita's moan at the touch.
Maybe this is why she let Rita Skeeter into her home.
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