𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇/𝐃/𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐄 2008

Fear and Loathing at the Phoenix (1/4)

Title: Fear and Loathing at the Phoenix
Author: curiouslyfic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: Takes the piss. But not literally.
Word count: 20k
Summary: Harry's Hunter S. Thompson, Draco's his attorney. It's the tenth annual Death Day and there's Journalism afoot.

Chapter 1: wednesday.april.30.2008

Chapter Text

wednesday.april.30.2008

Harry's invitation stalks him through The Quibbler newsroom like a thing possessed, the seventh owl in the past three days. Which should be the outside of enough, yeah, but they've sent this one with a Snowy, so that's the outside of enough, fucking Ministry arseholes, sending bad post with owls Harry can't hex.

His colleagues, if the children passing as interns can be called as much, don't do a thing to help. He assumes that's related to the blatant coffee thievery or the way he calls them children, but fuck them, they are. And anyway, Truth-telling's a thirsty occupation, he requires proper fuel for it and it's hardly his fault they leave the pot out unattended.

Someone will be hearing from his attorney.

One of the children snickers. Another snorts. Someone's passed word, then, that Regulus Black: Page Five Prick's being stalked by his post again, Harry's arsed about that, too.

It finds him hiding under his desk, which isn't so cupboard there's no light or anything, but isn't so uncupboard that it doesn't feel safe. He hears a final soft hoot, he wants to think it an apology, and he cringes when he hears the parchment's thump on his chair.

He waits until the owl's gone to get out his wand. Incendio's untouched and unread, because the where and when of things tells him what it says.

He RSVPs the ash.

***

Luna calls him in for a "pep talk", like anyone still believes that euphemism, and he goes less because he cares than because as Editor In Charge, she's got the best biscuits. Doesn't really need to hear—yet again—why he's not meant to be a) terrorizing the interns, b) nicking the pot, c) threatening his sources, or d) insulting his fans, does he? Actually, he thinks they've possibly expanded the repertoire lately, added e) some combination of the above, but if Luna's wrath has talking points—and it does—Harry feels morally square with having bullet responses.

So he settles into her office and ticks them off, biscuit by sweet, ungodly-good biscuit: a) they are, they're barely out of Hogwarts and they've no edge to them at all, they'll be eaten alive in this business, he's doing this out of love.

Luna's face draws Editor, drolly disturbed.

Harry practices his charming smile. It appears not to work. "Really, I love the interns," he says, and he actually means that. Loves most how they flee.

Luna's fingers tap her desk, which likely means b), but Harry's not sure until she snorts and looks dryly at her mug. He shrugs, talks about the importance of caffeination on the functioning brain, it's this or potions, does she really want him on potions, rehab's in the company plan. And yeah, Luna's snorting and all, but Harry's on a roll, Harry blows through c) in a flurry, because honestly, how anyone expects him to find his Truths by deadline if he can't put the fear of Merlin (or Harry's mad hexing skills) in them is beyond him, do they think the Ministry likes what he writes, have the law suits taught them nothing?, Harry's concerned by how thick they are.

Then there's d), which Harry thinks he might not have done lately, but he offers up a pre-emptive babble about how the only thing his readers love more than agreeing with him is Howling him to hell, you don't get that kind of rabid fanbase without pissing them off regularly.