Nothing Without You (That Special Something sequel)

Chapter 8: Rita Skeeter's offer

30th April 1992. 12:43.

"Slow day." I mumbled to Tom as I set down my tray on the bar counter. 

"Not over yet." Tom sighed. I turned to him.

"Give me a firewhisky." I told him. He shook his head.

"A woman your age shouldn't be drinking."

"I turned thrity-two a month ago, I want a drink." I told him.

He gasped. "Wow. You lok good for your age! I thought you were twenty-something?!" 

I flicked my hair. "Thank you! My secret is madame pimpernelle's! She's brilliant!"

I heard somebody come in. I sighed and picked up my tray.

"The sooner the day ends, the better." I mumbled, turning to see a platinum blonde woman in acid green robes. I had seen her before. On the Daily Prophet. I couldn't remember her name.

"Yes, yes it's me." She announced to the almost empty Leaky Cauldron. "The famous reporter for the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, Rita Skeeter!"

That was her. The one who wrote all of those stupid articles about Sirius being in jail for being too HOT! That didn't go very well.

"Can I help you?" I said in forced chirpiness. All this girl did was lie. I hate liars.

"Ah, yes, I am looking for Dorothy Goff. Thirty-two." She told me, moving her cat-eye glasses further up her nose. 

"That's me." I groaned. She gasped.

"Well, you look amazing for your age!" She told me, tapping me lightly. "Well, I was wondeing if I could just pull you away from work for the moment?"

"I'm sorry," I told her. I was about to lie. But I didn't care about lying to her, after all the times she did it. "But the busy hour will start in a few minutes and I need to be here for it."

"It will only take a second, darling." She said, ushering me to the bar. She addressed Tom."Can we have a room to talk in?" I shook my head at him, and he smiled and gestured to the door behind him. The storage room.She dragged me in as I glared at Tom, who was silently laughing.

"Sit." she told me, gesturing to the crates and boxes cramming the room. I perched myself on a wooden box, and she sat opposite me. "Now, Dorothy."

"Yes." I said coldly.

"I was wondering if I could do a little story on you. For Witch Weekly." Skeeter said. I raised an eyebrow.

"Why on earth would you want a story on me?" I asked. She laughed heartily. Though it felt condesending.

"Please, Dorothy, don't pretend you don't know about your fame!" She chuckled. I scowled at her. "Everyone knows you. Poor little delusional girl, who fell in love with a murderer and was put into azkaban for nothing! Everyone that reads Witch Weekly loves you, dearie! Tell me you know that!"

I shook my head. Why would people love me? I thought. I was just a silly stupid girl to them.

"Well," she sighed. "you are! And my rabid readers would love to read an interview about you! So, what do you say?"

I shook my head again. "No." I told her. "I've seen your articles. Especially about Sirius. I don't want to be involved with you."

Skeeter's smile went a little bit crooked, but her voice was still annoyingly high-pitched and chirpy. "Well, dearie!" she said. I could taste her anger. "I guess you left me to one other option! I have to just write it myself!"