Inverse

Blurring the Lines

No one else seemed to notice her clumsy action but Harry and Ron. Her shock worsened as she read through the death of Broderick Bode who had been strangled to death by Devil's Snare in St. Mungo's—on Christmas nonetheless!

"That's why he was happy last night!" Ron shoved his elbow at Harry. "Your dream! You said he was immensely happy about something!"

"What?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What dream?"

Harry shot Ron a dark look while the latter had the decency to look sorry.

"Nothing," Harry mumbled, still reading through the paper. "But look—Fudge is blaming this breakout on Sirius!"

Noting the change of topic, Hermione sighed through her nose. "Well what else is he going to say? That Professor Dumbledore was right all along?"

Harry chose not to grace her question with an answer.

Seeing that the conversation was over, Hermione went back to reading the article, and glared at the escaped Death Eaters through the newspaper. She felt anger strengthen her grip as she spotted multiple jabs against Harry and Dumbledore again.

This was enough. Something had to be done, and Hermione wasn't going to sit leisurely all morning while waiting for someone else to try. Trashing the paper, she stood from her seat and stuffed an apple into her bag for later.

"I'm leaving early," she said hurriedly. "I'm going to write a letter—I'll see you later!"

Without listening for their response, Hermione dashed from her seat and left through the double doors.

Setting her course towards the Gryffindor Tower, she dashed up seven flights of stairs and slipped through the Fat Lady's portrait in record time. When she arrived at her room, she went straight to her nightstand and picked up a small clear jar with a large beetle sitting inside. Making sure no one was around, she tapped the glass impatiently.

"Wake up," she tapped harder, watching the bug jump slightly.

She set the glass back down on the table and sat on her bed, crossing her arms. The beetle regarded her reproachfully.

"Listen well, Rita Skeeter," she began. "I have a deal for you, which regards your freedom from this jar."

The beetle's head flicked up, and Hermione knew she had her attention.

"Tap the glass once to indicate yes, tap twice for no. Got that?" The front most leg hit the glass once. "Good, now let me explain some things. There was a mass breakout from Azkaban yesterday night, leading ten former inmates to escape. A lot has happened since your capture, but the main point is that the Minister of Magic refuses to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned—as I'm sure you heard from your travels with me.

"I know you had a rather enjoyable time tearing at Harry's reputation all last year, and now I think it's time you fix that yourself. So here's my deal for you, I want you to interview Harry honestly, without any inputs of a quick-quotes quill, or your own exaggerated opinions."

The beetle didn't move.

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly. "You're going to write the article under your name, and I'm going to send it to a publisher of my choice. If I find that your interview with Harry is accurate, like true journalism should be,I will keep my mouth shut about your animagus form, and give you your freedom."

She took a small breath. "It's a good deal for you, Skeeter, and I'm sure you don't want to be stuck in here for the rest of your life. Now I don't have all day. Yes or no?"

The brown insect crawled closer to the glass and lifted its leg, tapping it once.

Hermione smiled. "Good choice. I will let you out when I can get Harry to meet me for the interview, and the publisher to agree that they'll accept the article. It should only be a few weeks."