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“Mr Crouch denies all involvement. We won’t stand for this shameful attempt of smearing his pristine reputation –”
“Enid Smeek seemed quite certain.”
Crouch’s campaign manager turns pink, his cheeks trembling with outrage, and Lily leans forward, immediately spotting Rita Skeeter up front. “I thought she was banned from attending.” She mutters under her breath, but receives no more than a grunt from the man standing next to her. “Potter?”
His right hand twitches and he brings it up, dragging it over his face, knocking the glasses askew before looking at her. There’s a storm brewing behind his eyes and Lily opens her mouth, but he’s faster, his impulsive steak too unpredictable for her to tame. Story of their short acquaintance, really. “You can take it from here, can’t you, Evans?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and turns around, pushing between a sea of bodies, all craning their necks to get a better look at the exchange happening on stage.
“Here.” She thrusts her notepad into Peter Pettigrew’s hands, almost knocking his camera over. “Take notes.”
“No, Lily, wait!”
But she ignores him, making a beeline for the exit. Their editor will give them hell for this, after all whenever Rita Skeeter is involved there’s always a juicy story to print, but that’s something she’ll deal with later. She raises her ID towards the security guard and gets waved through, stepping into the cool, evening air. She strides forward, heels clicking on the cobbled road then stills, spotting him in a hidden corner, away from the crowd, slumped against the wall. He’s loosened the collar of his robes, as he always does at the end of a long day, the tanned skin peeking from under the black fabric attracting Lily’s stare. “You’ll get us in troubles.” She says, approaching him, and notices his eyes quickly jumping from her chest to her face.
“I didn’t ask you to leave.” They stare at each other and he’s the first to look away, frowning. “How can you stand it, Evans?”
“Stand what?”
“Crouch, Fudge, the whole lot of them. They’re posh Purebloods that have no idea how most people live. They think they can do whatever they want with no consequences.”
“Just like you.”
He whips his head around and there’s shock in his eyes and a hint of betrayal he masks a moment too late as he pushes against the wall to stand in front of her. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asks, voice carefully neutral, but Lily isn’t fooled.
“You just walked out of a press conference you’re supposed to attend to write the front page piece. You did that because you know Cuffe will take your 800 words and if they aren’t good enough I will take the heat for it.”
“Are you calling me a shite writer?”
No. “Yes.” She answers instead, the lie burning on her tongue. The truth is she thinks he’s brilliant, witty, insightful, but he’s also stubborn, fickle and she can always tell when he isn’t passionate about a subject. That’s why she offered to write the story on Crouch’s press conference, but Cuffe acted as if she felt threatened by Potter and assigned her a puff piece on Bathilda Bath’s latest book instead. Men. “Why don’t you care more?” She bites her lip as he stares at her with raised eyebrows. She hasn’t meant to say it, it slipped out, and now, with his eyes fixed on her, it feels like an admission of sorts.
“Careful, Evans. I might start to think you care about me.”
She rolls her eyes, but she isn’t sure she’s able to pull it off. The truth is she might care about James Potter, but that’s a problem she isn’t ready to deal with just yet. “I don’t want you to sink the newspaper before I get the chance to become editor, that’s all.”
He’s the one to roll his eyes this time and the genuine look of annoyance brings a smile to her face. “Come on, Evans.” He slides an arm around her shoulders, his weight and warmth not unwelcomed as he shields her from the cold. She reasons that’s why she doesn’t shrug it off and lets him guide her inside, pushing through the crowd, excited mutters echoing around them. She guesses Rita lived up to her reputation once again. “This will be the best sodding front page the Prophet has ever seen.”
“Always so modest.”
He drops his arm when they reach Peter and she takes a quick step back, keenly aware of their colleague’s watery eyes going from her to Potter.
“Where have you been??” He cries. “Everyone will print about Skeeter showing up and you weren’t even here!”
“Don’t worry about it, mate.” James says and winks at her before loudly clearing his throat, the chatter dying as he commands the attention of the room. “Why isn’t Crouch here in person? Don’t you think this will be perceived as a sign of weakness?”
She covers her mouth to hide her grin as the poor campaign manager turns an even deeper shade of pink.