I was running to the Ministry in a pair of four-inch black stilettos, my psycho of a mother has that I had accidentally grabbed on my way to work. Not only am I late again, I still have to manage running in this damnable shoes.
Imagine how much that hurts.
Know what comes in handy? A swearword.
Let’s just sum up all the inauspicious things that happened to me recently:
1.I lost TAK, my best friend and beloved camera.
Even though, mum got me a new one which I named Phil, btw, and made me a yummy blueberry pie, I still can’t get over the fact that Tak’s gone.
2.The flat I wanted to buy was on reservation. Psh, I didn’t know you could reserve a flat.
Three words: what the heck?!
3.I have no Potter photo to show to my boss- Mr. (ahem, Miss) Cole (who is both a reporter and works under the Magical Maintenance Department). And I’m pretty sure he’ll launch into hysterics, again.
No worries, I’ve been through this before.
As long as Mr. Cole won’t kick me out, I’m good. Or, at least, I think I am.
I reached the office, panting and clutching my heart. Everyone was huddled inside Mr. Cole’s private office.
“Hey,” I whispered to one of the people at the back. While I gave her a smile, she looked back at me, wide-eyed.
“WHERE’S THAT SKEETER WOMAN?!!!”
For one thing, I’m tall. As in really, really tall. But not so tall. Anyway, my point is, despite of all the fat heads in front of me, my curly blonde head stood out, not to mention that I’m wearing this pair of stupid shoes…and immediately, I was spotted by a furious, tomato red-faced Mr. Cole.
“Um, Holmes, remember?” I said in a nervous small voice.
“BAH!” he shrieked, shooting out saliva to those poor people in front. “I JUST HEARD FROM JONES THAT HE GOT THE BEST PHOTOS ON THE POTTERS STROLLING DIAGON ALLEY!!! HOW THE HECK DID THAT HAPPEN???”
I cringed at Cole’s creepy banshee voice.
Mr. Jones was a mortal enemy of Mr. Cole. And yes, they’re both gay and they both want promotion. And I. Don’t. Really. Care.
“I HIRED YOU TO DO YOUR JOB! AND BECAUSE OF YOUR MOTHER!!!” Cole ranted frantically waving his arms around.
Um, he is one lunatic I’m never going to take pity of.
“Oh, gosh, I have no idea,” I muttered sarcastically. See what I mean? Everything that happens to me has to involve my mother, who, by the way, I so hate right now because of her evil shoes.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cole,” I said, looking on what I thought vulnerable.
All you have to do is forgive me and ta-da! I’d be snapping photos again.
“SORRY?!” he said, outraged, “What did you expect, Skeeter?! That I forgive you and ta-da! You’d be snapping photos again?!”
Er, didn’t I just thought of that?
“Yes?” I said, looking bewildered.
“NO!” he screamed and I cringed more.
“I’m joking, I’m joking!” I added hastily, hoping that this would end. I really don’t like banshee screams.
Seems like this only made a gay banshee voice shriek louder and creepier, if possible.
Carla Skeeter Holmes, prepare for the attack.
“I’LL TELL YOU A JOKE, SKEETER!” he thundered “YOU’RE FIRED!”
I looked at him, stunned. He looked at me back, glaring fiercely.
Know what’s next?
Well, it was just so bloody amusing! But it can’t be real, can it? I mean, I can’t lose my only job, right?
Merlin’s beard, I think I just did.
I stopped laughing and composed my self. Mr. Cole was trying hard to breathe calmly while shooting me a couple of glares that could kill me in an instant. And everyone around us was in a shocked state.
There was a small cough.
“Um, excuse me,” a guy said
“What?” Cole snapped.
“The second floor was in hailstorms, again, uh, Mister Cole and Mr. Harry Potter’s scheduled interview on his office.” He said nervously.
Cole’s eyes lit up.
I took the cue to leave. This is, by the way, another dramatic tactic for him to call me back. Maybe I should write a book: Dramatic Tactics That Is Sure To Work. By: C.S. Holmes.
“Skeeter!” Cole called out.
I whipped around, careful not to stumble or too show how much ecstatic I am that my dramatic tactic worked. Brava to me.
“Let’s go.” He said, fixing his vivid purple scarf and smacking his lips. “After this, you’ll be free to go.”
I almost beamed. Almost. Good thing, I replaced it with a solemn face.
“Hurry up!” he called out. He was already out the office. I grinned at the people who were watching earlier then set off to follow Cole.
Today doesn’t seem too bad.
* * * *
I stood awkwardly (very, very awkward) beside Mr. Cole, who was plump and short and thus, making me look like I was a weird thin giantess with a very curly hair. I still blame the four-inch stilettos.
“Take as much as photos as you can,” Cole muttered through smiling teeth. “Can’t wait for Jones to be crushed.” He let out a small laugh.
Mr. Chosen One cleared his throat.
Mr. Cole batted his eyelashes (seriously?!) at Harry Potter.
“So,” he started out “What was your latest plan as head of Auror Department, Mr. Potter?”
“Oh, um, well, together with the Department of Law and Enforcement, we were planning to fully stamp out offensive pureblood laws…”Harry Potter said firmly as I took pictures of his face.
Okay, I can’t contain it any longer. It’s HARRY POTTER!!! ZOMG! The Chosen One! The Boy Who Lived! The…the…HARRY POTTER! Isn’t that freaking amazing???
Whew. It’s cool to let that thing out.
I mean, of course, I’ve seen him quite many times at School, Ministry Balls, and Auror Training and well, every time I do, my head goes ranting out like that.
Bah-I’m a psycho.
I’m never going to have a hot husband and cutie pie kids. I’m gonna grow old and have forty-five cats. No, I hate cats. I’m gonna have forty-five puppies. All in different colors. Sniff, my life will suck and then I will die.
Dramatic, much? Get used to it.
I sighed at my pathetic-ness and glanced at the killer shoes I’m wearing. Oh man, it really hurts. I think I’m going to have bloody blisters.
Cole and HARRY POTTER were still talking when HARRY POTTER’s assistant offered me a seat (I took the opportunity to remove my shoes) and a biscuit, which I both took thankfully. How lucky is she to work with HARRY POTTER?!
I was about to ask when someone entered the office and plopped itself to the seat next to me.
“Oh, would you like some biscuits, Mr. Potter?” Lucky assistant said to the guy next to me.
Mr. Potter?! Then it must be…
I slowly moved my head to take a look at which Potter boy it is.
Oh my Merlin.
“Nah, I’m good, Sylvia.” Albus Potter said kindly to Lucky assistant Sylvia. “Who’s dad talking to?”
I moved my head to the front and started biting my lip.
I don’t know but there is some weird thing going on my stomach right now. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Some reporter for the Daily Prophet, I think.” Sylvia said then her eyes flitted on my possibly looking-sick-right-now face. “You’re his photographer, right?”
Don’t look this way, Al Potter. I might just throw up at you.
Too late. Al Potter’s head turned to take a look at my stupid blond curly head. Then, he gave me a small smile.
Screw you, lucky assistant. And you too, amazing green eyes.
I forced a smile, which might turn into a very creepy one and nodded. I quickly looked at my feet. Shoot.
I hastily pulled my shoes using my feet under the chair I’m sitting. Is it possible for me not to do anything embarrassing everyday?! I’m completely sick of it.
I looked back at Potter to see if he was looking and darn! He was. He even shot me an amused look.
“My feet, uh-it-uh, hurts.” I stuttered as I hastily put my shoes back on.
Note to self: never, ever remove your shoes in public.
“Then, why are you putting it back on?” he said, really looking amused.
Why must you care? I almost spat out. But then a quick smack hit my brain and stopped me from saying that. After all, HARRY POTTER was just a few feet away and so is banshee Cole and I can’t afford to let the firing part happen again.
So I said, “Huh?” which is much stupider than my brain had thought. Brain, I thought you’re much smarter than that. The Sorting Hat put you in the mighty house of wit, remember?
“I mean,” he said, trying to explain.
“I know what you mean,” I cut off before he could make me look stupid, again. Since when did Albus Potter become that witty? It irks me. “And don’t worry about it, Potter. It’s not your feet, anyway.” I added coolly.
He shrugged. Then we were followed by silence. More silence. Still more silence, even when Sylvia went out and asked us if we want some coffee or something.
I purposely kept my trap shut and clicked my heels as we waited for the interview to end.
“So, you’re a photographer, huh?” he said, raising his eyebrows at me.
“Yeah, it pretty much sucks, really,” I said timidly.
“I think it’s pretty cool. So what do you take photos of? Men in knickers? Or um, people making out in streetlights?” he said bluntly.
“I don’t think I’ve taken pictures of ‘men in knickers’” I said, flushed.
Um, don’t look at me like that. I do have taken loads of photos of people making out in a dimly lighted street but they’re just for fun. Really.
Geez, that’s just not right.
He laughed. “So you do snoop into people’s making out business,”
I turned red. Or so I think. That’s just embarrassing. Eventually, this only made Potter laugh out more.
“Well, you won’t be laughing too much, Potter, if you found out that I took more than seven pictures of you in some pub locking lips with Miranda Jenkins.”
He stopped laughing.
“Wait, darn, I did not say that out loud, did I?”
Merlin’s pink lacy knickers.
“You what?!” he yelled out in shock.
“Oh my sinfulness, I am so sorry.” I explained hastily. “I mean, I’m not supposed to say that out loud. I have a reputation to uphold and, and,”
“You’re a paparazzi,”
“One of the paparazzi,”
“You said, a paparazzi. That’s plural. Either you say, one of the paparazzi or paparazzo.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re not denying it, either.”
“Now that you mentioned it,” I took a deep breath, “No, I’m not a paparazzo, I’m just a photographer”
Could this day get any worse?
“And you’re mental.” He said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Yeah well, sometimes-Hey! I am not mental.” I said, gaping at him “A little deranged, yes but no, not mental.”
“So let me see, you keep up in a job to snoop into people’s private, um, business and sell it to newspapers and magazines like Witch Weekly?” he said, looking at me like I was a horrible stain.
“I’m not proud it,” I said in defense.
“Yeah but you continue doing it,” he argued.
What the heck is wrong with this Potter boy?
“Look, I don’t give a heck on what you think, Potter. Just because you’re some mighty Auror who is the son of HARRY POTTER and thinks that all you do is great and good, doesn’t mean you have to insult other people’s job and think that they wouldn’t stand up to you and just follow you instead.” I said in rage.
“That’s not my point. All I’m saying is how could you stay in that foul business of snooping? It completely an abuse to other people.” His voice was much louder than before.
“Why are you shouting at me?” I said, leveling the loudness of my voice to his voice. “You’re not my boss and definitely not my mum! I don’t know what your problem is, Potter, but don’t include innocent people into it!” I stood up. And he did too.
Well, unlucky him, I shoot pass him a couple of centimeters. Actually, it’s embarrassing.
“What’s going on?” Cole hissed, his eyes bulging out of its sockets. “You’re embarrassing me, Skeeter!”
“No more words! Now, give me the pictures and get out!”
Oh, dear. This is not what I think it is, right?
“I’m fired?” I asked dumbly
“Yes! Now, get out!” Cole said, taking my camera’s memory with a swish of his wand and going back to the interview.
My life had just ended. And I didn’t even prepare for it.
I glared at Potter, who is obviously the reason for all of this, and walked effortlessly out the room.
I’m never wearing this devil shoes again.
A/N: Hey, here’s my second chapter. Some of you might’ve noticed it’s edited but I have to do it. Really. So can you guys tell me what you think? And how would you like the story to go?
That was a pretty harsh meeting with Al Potter but well, you’ll see soon!!!