A Skeeter Situation

Sitting on one of the walled flower beds used to decorate Diagon Alley it's easy to see pretty much everything going on around me. I like it that way. I can just sit here in the middle and let the world spin.

"Potter."

I blink at that, curiousity getting the better of me. The Potter? As in, Harry Potter? I follow the sound of that voice and frown to see a hideous blonde vulture circling him like her next meal. Ugh...reporters...had to deal with enough of them around Peter, and occasionally various band members or Quidditch players I've slept with. It's painfully obvious that Potter wants nothing to do with this witch...can't say I blame him, she looks like a prostitute catering exclusively to clowns with her make up and hair done like that.

I glance up and down for a moment, slipping my wand out of my pocket and up into my sleeve out of sight. With a flick I cast the spell silently, careful of my aim so I don't hit the Boy Wonder instead of the strawhead hooker. Within seconds I can tell my aim is spot on as soon as she opens her mouth to speak again.

"Scene?" Her voice squeaks. "I am not--" She stops speaking then, her eyes narrowing, as Potter's expression goes from irritated to surprised, then amused.

"Got something stuck in your throat Skeeter?" He asks, obviously trying not to laugh.

I angle my wand carefully, judging the pressure just write as she speaks again. This time her voice comes out in a low-pitched croak some baritones would be proud to produce. More people are staring now, though Potter is no longer center of such unwanted attention as this 'Skeeter' looks, and sounds like a fool. She gags and coughs to clear her throat before trying again...maybe chipmunk pitch this time? Another flick and I'm inspired to start humming the theme 'Alvin, Simon, Theodore!'...I smirk.

She tries to speak again, her voice sounding like a chipmunk, and Potter raises an eyebrow this time, as she flushes deep red. The people watching are either openly laughing or trying to hide it.

"You did this!" She squeaks.

"Oh yes, I did it," Potter says dryly. "Since you liked blaming me for everything that went wrong during my fourth and fifth years, let's just add this on to my list of supposed crimes. Skeeter, I suggest you get your throat checked out, sounds rather rough."

She huffs, and turns even more red, and then brushes past him, angrily. Potter looks at everyone else.

"Show's over, go back to shopping," he says, this time sounding gruff.

I start to laugh at this, his professional manner returning so easily despite the fact it's clear he's as amused as everyone else by the witches misfortune. I laugh until my sides ache from trying to contain it, then I feel my center of gravity shift as I tip too far back on the wall.

"Woah! Shit! Ow!" I follow the sound of the cursing just in time to see a young blonde witch tip backwards off the wall where she was perched, hitting the floor the other side. "Bugger..."

I walk over to the wall, it's not too high, just comes up to my waist, and I look down to see her starting to get up. I hold out my hand. "Come on, dangerous to laugh when sitting on a wall. Usually your butt meets the ground."

"So I just found out," she grins, accepting my hand to help her up. As she does I feel my hand brush against something in her sleeve, something that feels an awful lot like a concealed wand. "Thanks. Reckon she'll be less eager to humiliate someone in public now she's had a taste of her own medicine?"

I shake my head. "No, that's Skeeter's trademark. She'll probably use this to make me appear mean and cruel in the Prophet." I shrug. "Used to it, doesn't bother me. And she'll just try again... but thanks though."

She tenses a little and looks about to deny it for a moment before she shrugs and gives me a grin, "She deserved it...and I reckon she might not want to print a story about her own humiliation...enough people saw as it is." She pauses, seeming to weigh something up before speaking again, "So you're Harry Potter...man that must suck!"

I notice a few people stop and stare, and I look down, and instantly start to flatten my hair, trying not to LOOK like Harry Potter.

"Er yeah, sometimes, okay about 98 percent of the time, just not so loud please," I mutter.

She winces and drops the volume down a bit so only I can hear what she's saying. "Guess it depends what part of being...you...you're talking about...reckon being friends with that red-haired giant is probably ok...but the pressure and dealing with crap like that vulture...I've seen Quidditch stars and the like go through it bad enough without being national hero...and yet I'm guessing everyone reckons it's pretty awesome to get that attention even though you hate every minute of it, yeh?"

Red haired giant? I blink a few times, and try to absorb everything she says, it's just a bit startling for someone outside the people I know to understand. Then the word hero sticks, and I grimace. "No need to tack the word hero on me. And being friends with Ron has helped me out a lot, and he's saved me more times than I can count. And what I'm considered heroic for... there's a lot of better people than me that have done more. But I could do without the attention."

"Those better people probably chose what they did though, reckon it must be tough having it dumped on you from birth with no say in the matter, even with help," she shrugs, pocketing her wand, "Just my thoughts anyway, don't really know much about any of that personally...so you're working now? Guess I'd best let you get back to saving the world then, eh?" She grins, teasingly.

I look up ahead of me then, having that feeling that Wiliamson is on his way over. And I was right. The Git is.

"How about I save you from being sighted by the Git?" I ask. "That'll be my contribution to saving the world today."

I raise an eyebrow curiously at this. The Git? "Who's the Git?" I ask, glancing around to where he was looking a moment ago. I don't really know who I'm looking for...the only person that stands out looks like a bright crimson ice berg...some people just have no fashion sense.

"My patrol partner," he says sounding oh so pleased at this fact. "Go, save yourself."

I can't help chuckling at this, "Alright then, I'll see you around...look up the vocal distortion spell for next time." I turn and head through the crowds easily, ducking between other shoppers. So that's Harry Potter...cute.