Fic: Smouldering, She Said (Snape/Rita, Pg-13)
Title: Smouldering, She Said
Author: La Onza
Pairing: Snape/Rita
Rating: Pg-13
Challenge: Power
Summary: Young Hogwarts teacher accused of Death Eating: Rita Skeeter brings you the story.
I don't know why this challenge drew me so irresistably, but it did. :) This little thing (about 600 words) is the result.
No more than a kid, he was, and an unprepossessing bit of boyflesh, at that. He sat stewing in his chair like tough mutton, eyeing her as though she were conspicuously pestilent and likely to bite. Why did it always fall to her to baby along the bloody-minded ones? Well, she knew what old Barney would say to that: “Rita, my love, it’s your own fault for being so good at it.”
She leant forward across the table, giving him a bit of an eyeful. His eyes flicked downward in a reflexive shifty, then scurried back to her face. He flushed darkly, piqued at having been caught acting like a human. She pinned him with her gaze for a moment, then held up her index fingers, about ten inches apart.
“Headline,” she said, “’Dumbledore’s Dubious Dotage.’ Subhead, ‘Venerable oldster embraces accused Death Eater.’”
His lips tightened and grew white - indeed, his whole body seemed to tighten, to compress itself as a preliminary to exploding. She let her face relax into her most understanding smile and turned both hands downward in a placating gesture.
“Simmer down, darling,” she said kindly. “If that doesn’t suit you, well, you’d better say what will. Rita is here to listen.”
His outraged black eyes darted furiously over her face. “What is it that you want, exactly?” he sneered.
“A story, of course.” She watched him deliberate. Intensity, she thought. She could do something with that.
“I can only tell you what I’ve already told them,” he said, clearly making an effort at moderation. “I have committed no crime. I have no personal knowledge of any crime. I can’t be charged with anything other than unwisely maintaining a few old school associations, which I would have done better to drop.”
“’Smouldering,’” she said thoughtfully.
“I beg your pardon?” he demanded.
“Never mind, darling.” She took out a quill and begin to write. “And what about this fellow, this Karakoff…”
“Karkaroff. A coward and a liar.”
“Mmm-hmm… ‘his finely chiselled lips pressed firmly together, as he fought to bank the fire of his indignation’…You were saying?” In fact he had fallen markedly silent, and she looked up.
He stared. “I fail to see what my lips have to do with anything,” he said.
“Darling, I need to paint the picture for the readers. If they can see it, they’ll believe it. Trust me. I know my business. ‘A coward and a liar,’ he said, in a sinuous voice as cool and dark as black silk…’”
“Don’t write that!” he blurted. She looked up again.
He was thoroughly perturbed, panting a bit, gripping the table with white-knuckled hands. She realized he was close to deciding that she was mocking him, at which point she would lose him for good. She lowered her chin and gave him a bit of the kitten-eye over the top of her glasses.
“I’ll only think it, then, shall I?” she purred.
A lightening bolt of sexual energy crackled in the room, and he sensed it, responded to it, drawing himself up to consider this new development. His eyes snapped and flashed as he looked down his nose at her like a pasha.
“Don’t even think it,” he said.
Author: La Onza
Pairing: Snape/Rita
Rating: Pg-13
Challenge: Power
Summary: Young Hogwarts teacher accused of Death Eating: Rita Skeeter brings you the story.
I don't know why this challenge drew me so irresistably, but it did. :) This little thing (about 600 words) is the result.
No more than a kid, he was, and an unprepossessing bit of boyflesh, at that. He sat stewing in his chair like tough mutton, eyeing her as though she were conspicuously pestilent and likely to bite. Why did it always fall to her to baby along the bloody-minded ones? Well, she knew what old Barney would say to that: “Rita, my love, it’s your own fault for being so good at it.”
She leant forward across the table, giving him a bit of an eyeful. His eyes flicked downward in a reflexive shifty, then scurried back to her face. He flushed darkly, piqued at having been caught acting like a human. She pinned him with her gaze for a moment, then held up her index fingers, about ten inches apart.
“Headline,” she said, “’Dumbledore’s Dubious Dotage.’ Subhead, ‘Venerable oldster embraces accused Death Eater.’”
His lips tightened and grew white - indeed, his whole body seemed to tighten, to compress itself as a preliminary to exploding. She let her face relax into her most understanding smile and turned both hands downward in a placating gesture.
“Simmer down, darling,” she said kindly. “If that doesn’t suit you, well, you’d better say what will. Rita is here to listen.”
His outraged black eyes darted furiously over her face. “What is it that you want, exactly?” he sneered.
“A story, of course.” She watched him deliberate. Intensity, she thought. She could do something with that.
“I can only tell you what I’ve already told them,” he said, clearly making an effort at moderation. “I have committed no crime. I have no personal knowledge of any crime. I can’t be charged with anything other than unwisely maintaining a few old school associations, which I would have done better to drop.”
“’Smouldering,’” she said thoughtfully.
“I beg your pardon?” he demanded.
“Never mind, darling.” She took out a quill and begin to write. “And what about this fellow, this Karakoff…”
“Karkaroff. A coward and a liar.”
“Mmm-hmm… ‘his finely chiselled lips pressed firmly together, as he fought to bank the fire of his indignation’…You were saying?” In fact he had fallen markedly silent, and she looked up.
He stared. “I fail to see what my lips have to do with anything,” he said.
“Darling, I need to paint the picture for the readers. If they can see it, they’ll believe it. Trust me. I know my business. ‘A coward and a liar,’ he said, in a sinuous voice as cool and dark as black silk…’”
“Don’t write that!” he blurted. She looked up again.
He was thoroughly perturbed, panting a bit, gripping the table with white-knuckled hands. She realized he was close to deciding that she was mocking him, at which point she would lose him for good. She lowered her chin and gave him a bit of the kitten-eye over the top of her glasses.
“I’ll only think it, then, shall I?” she purred.
A lightening bolt of sexual energy crackled in the room, and he sensed it, responded to it, drawing himself up to consider this new development. His eyes snapped and flashed as he looked down his nose at her like a pasha.
“Don’t even think it,” he said.