I. In which there is a secret meeting

All standard disclaimers of non-ownership apply.

Hermione Granger set down her quill at last with a deep sigh and a spine-cracking, muscle-loosening stretch. Before her lay teetering piles of books and the work of over six months' worth of sleepless nights and of impossibly exhaustive research. A quick glance at her watch told her this barely even qualified as night anymore; she counted on the fact, however, that the fruits of her labour would be well worth it.

Another thorough perusal later and Hermione had double checked that everything written on the sheet of parchment before her was accurate beyond any question or doubt. Hermione had never been one to give in to uncertainty regarding her skills and efforts, particularly when it came to doing research; but in this case she checked and double-checked painstakingly. It was imperative that everything was absolutely impeccable if her plans were to succeed.

Hermione rubbed her eyes before stretching once more. She carefully folded the long sheet of parchment, tapping it with her wand to seal and secure it. A few precautionary spells later, she set it on the table in front of her. She would get it to an owlery in a few hours' time; its arrival would come as something of a surprise, to be sure, but Hermione knew how much the recipient would be in need of that research within a few days. Stifling a yawn, Hermione opened a thick binder which was already past overflowing with notes. She flipped through the partitions until she got to a black one, where she filed the duplicate of her research notes; she had made sure to constantly replicate her work as her accumulation and assembly of the information had progressed.

She stifled another, bigger yawn as she flipped through her binder again before deciding she could afford herself some sleep. She had finished the most pressing of the matters she had wanted to achieve. The rest of it could wait until tomorr – oh, right, she thought around yet another yawn – later today. A flick of her wand as she got up from her seat Banished the piles of books back to their places in her bookcases, sending them zooming past her as she slowly walked to her bedroom.

Hermione made quick work of her clothes as she padded into her bathroom for her ablutions and dropped them into her hamper with a mental reminder to take care of the more menial tasks that she'd been neglecting, before she ran out of clothes or her plates became their own sentient life forms. With a last self-satisfied smile at all the work she had accomplished that day, as well as over the course of these past months, Hermione returned to her bedroom, slid between her cool bed sheets and succumbed to a long, restful sleep.

"You're late, Granger. I may have agreed to meet you after working hours, but that didn't give you leave to make me wait, however fashionable you might have thought you were being."

Hermione valiantly resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though she muttered something uncharitable to herself as she negotiated the tables in the small café where she had set up the meeting. Actually, Hermione had really rather known she wasn't and wouldn't be late. Ever since she'd finished her exhaustive research five days ago, she had taken to relaxing with good books and very high-grade dark chocolates, restoring some balance to her depleted intellectual energies by concentrating on nothing but quality literary pursuits.

The fact that she'd spent her days in leisure had given her plenty of time to arrange this meeting with Rita Skeeter and prepare for it. Since the meeting was taking place in Muggle London, Hermione had even left earlier than necessary to account for the distance she would have need to walk to the café from the dingy, secluded alley where she had Apparated.

"Tardiness isn't based on your schedule, Rita. I'm actually quite early. You merely happen to be earlier; but that certainly doesn't make me in any way late," Hermione said tartly.

"Naturally," Rita replied curtly, giving Hermione a dismissive once-over. One of Rita's hands was still tapping an impatient beat on the marbled surface of the table; her blood-red, talon-like nails produced a hollow sound of plastic clicking against plastic. Rita's other hand was curled around the stem of a tall, curved glass; the cocktail inside was an acid green nearly identical to Rita's robes, provoking a mental shudder from Hermione as her eyes got used to the colour.

Hermione took a seat opposite Rita and ordered a coffee from the waitress who had been hovering near their table. The silence between Rita and Hermione was somewhat tense as they waited. Finally, the waitress returned with Hermione's coffee, setting it down deftly on the plastic table between the two women. As soon as they were alone, Rita's mien changed from studiously bored to intently focused; the glint in her eyes was nothing if not avid, Hermione thought. Drawing in a breath, Rita leaned forward slightly, fixing Hermione's eyes with her own.

"All right, Granger, talk. I won't deny that your ideas of mutual benefits have run somewhat similar to mine in the past. Nor can I deny that my little exclusive with Potter made me something of a commodity in the reporting business. However, I don't quite think you've contacted me because of some ardent desire to organise interviews for your famous best friend." Rita's expression twisted into something close to contempt. Now that Lord Voldemort had been defeated for a long enough time, the public's interest in Harry had dwindled exponentially.

Hermione was sure something similar had happened to Dumbledore; she ignored the slight pang that reminded her of the appreciation she'd felt for the wise, powerful, manipulative old wizard. She had read up on Dumbledore quite extensively in the first weeks following his death, of course. Anything on the intersecting history between Dumbledore and Tom Riddle could have helped, she had thought, though her research had largely been covert, so as not to upset Harry. With the thought of Dumbledore's power and achievements in mind, she had researched as far back as Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald; that had thrust him briefly into the public eye before the general populace's fickle attention had moved elsewhere.

Rita hadn't exactly suffered for lack of attention, though. While the first hearings of captured Death Eaters before the Wizengamot had been open to the public, she had put her Quick Quotes Quill to excellent use. Neither of the sides facing off had escaped her wrath, and Rita's scathing articles had painted bleak pictures of the Death Eaters being prosecuted as well as of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione was sure she had never seen more objective reporting, much as she was sure that had been the last thing on Rita's mind.

In a surprise move that had proved someone employed at the Ministry was in fact in possession of at least half a brain, the Wizengamot hearings soon became closed, and started being held in secret courtrooms. The idea to decide the venue a half hour to an hour before the processions had to have originated with someone in the Order, Hermione was sure ... Specifically, she suspected, with Harry, Mr Weasley or Ron. That had been the tactic Fudge and Umbridge had employed in their attempt to get Harry expelled from Hogwarts four years previously. Minister Scrimgeour had never thought to do the same when it came to the Death Eater hearings, choosing instead to splutter indignantly in the Daily Prophet, making public demands of silence from Rita Skeeter.

The Death Eater Trial Secrecy Statute, which the Prophet had 'affectionately' nicknamed the DETSS, had effectively prevented Rita from reporting the goings-on inside the courtrooms. Just as Hermione had expected, that had incurred a vitriolic backlash that the Ministry had had no hopes of containing. Rita's Quick Quotes Quill had gone to work on the prominent Ministry employees dealing with the Death Eater hearings, drawing parallels between them and the dignitaries who had handled each of those same Death Eaters' trials after Voldemort's first fall. The Ministry had been unprepared for such a response from Rita; they had forgot, it seemed, that she had been there at those hearings, and that she also had access to those old Ministry trial archives.

"Besides," Rita continued, "I'm sure you remember the terms on which we parted as well as I do. And yet you contacted me, and took obvious pains to make sure your letter was sufficiently secure and sufficiently intriguing. So," she enunciated slowly, leaning forward just that bit more, "talk; what is it you want?"

Hermione allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She had been sure the spells she had heaped on her letter would get Rita's attention as much as, if not more than the content would. Hermione had written something quite nondescript, really, merely requesting, or rather suggesting, a meeting for mutual benefits. Given the explosive success their earlier joint venture had enjoyed, Hermione had been sure Rita would read between the lines enough to be interested in what Hermione had to say and to offer.

"What do I want? Why, actually," Hermione confided in a slow, conspiratorial tone, "I want Severus Snape, of course."

Seeing Rita Skeeter splutter and stare in unblinking shock really was a sight to behold, Hermione decided.