"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮"
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IN WHICH ~ Jupiter Cassiopeia Lestrange thought she could escape her family's dark legacy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in her second year, Tom Riddle's diar...
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"The best kiss is the one that has been exchanged a thousand times between the eyes before it reaches the lips."
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"Psst!" Jupiter whispered, crouching outside the champions' tent, her voice barely carrying above the murmur of the crowd and Dumbledore's amplified voice as he addressed the spectators.
A faint shuffling sounded from within, and someone pressed their ear close to the tent wall.
"Who's that?" she whispered, her voice tense.
"Harry," he replied, his voice low and wary.
"It's Jo."
There was a small pause, and then, even in his whisper, she could hear a smirk. "Yeah, I figured."
"Are you alright?" she asked, the question hanging heavily in the quiet between them.
A beat passed, and then he finally answered, voice laced with a grim sort of humor. "Ask me after I battle a dragon."
She didn't laugh. Instead, without another word, she slipped into the tent, tossing the flap aside and throwing her arms around him, hugging him with all the force she could muster. It was a desperate, fierce embrace, like she was trying to hold him together, as if this might be the last time. She felt him sink into her, his fingers clutching tightly at her back as he held on.
CLICK.
"Young love!" a woman's voice trilled with relish. Startled, Harry and Jupiter pulled apart, eyes wide as they turned to see a blonde woman and a beaming photographer standing at the tent's entrance.
The woman's eyes sparkled with excitement, and a self-satisfied smile played on her lips as she tapped a long, lacquered nail on her notepad, which was scribbling words all by itself in the air. "How... stirring," she cooed, her gaze gleaming with something predatory. "If everything goes, oh, unfortunately today, you two might just make the front page again!"
Jupiter's stomach dropped as she recognized the woman—Rita Skeeter, the notorious reporter. Rita's eyes flicked over her, assessing, calculating, as if already formulating the story she'd spin.
"You have no business here. This tent is for champions and their friends," a low, accented voice growled. It was Krum, who had stepped forward, his expression dark as he glowered at the reporter. Cedric moved beside him, crossing his arms and joining Krum in a united front.
Rita's eyes swept over them, her smile widening as if delighted by the attention. She pouted playfully. "No matter," she purred, glancing at her photographer, who snapped another photo. "We've got what we wanted." With a mocking wink at Krum, she sauntered out of the tent, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.
