Rita Skeeter was not, exactly, the type to visit the kitchens. In fact, the young woman usually went out of her way to avoid the place. Being a Ravenclaw didn't make accomplishing that too difficult -- the common room was about as far away from the kitchens as you could get. Height wise, anyways. Finding one's way down there in the middle of the night was quite the trek, with plenty of risks. Prefects, head boy and girl, the stairs, caretakers... the hazards were everywhere.
However, at this moment in time, she simply couldn't help it. It was late, she was hungry, and she was planning on being up for as long as it took her to finish the article she was currently working on. She owed it to everyone, of course, and a nice cup of coffee would certainly help her stay awake and stay concentrated on the thing. As fun as it was to write, she found she simply couldn't keep her eyes open -- or keep her stomach from making those awful gurgling noises. It was more than slightly distracting. And painful. There was that, too.
Rita's issues with her image ran deep -- deep enough to keep her from eating most times. Or eating enough, anyways. Living on salads didn't quite keep people full. Being in pain was enough motivation for Rita. Not enough, though, to keep the guilt from her thoughts. During her entire trip down to the cellars, she couldn't help but beat herself up over it. What was she doing, anyways? Going down to get food? How stupid was she, anyways? What was it she wanted -- to put on more weight? That would be just perfect, wouldn't it? So people could start spreading rumours about the chubby, slutty tease. She stopped for a moment, leaning on the railing of the stairs. She'd just... she'd just stick to the coffee and maybe... maybe some kind of vegetable, or something. It wasn't as if she was going to go down there and demand cake, or anything. She'd be okay. It didn't completely rid her of her guilt, but it helped somewhat. She was just overreacting, being stupid.
With that settled she continued on, journal and quill in hand. This wasn't going to be a break from her work, after all. She did want some sleep -- an hour or two would do it. She'd run on less before. Besides, the writing came first. It always did.
It was a bit of a relief to make it to the kitchens in one piece -- she'd managed to avoid all the treacherous traps that lay about the school. It was nice... the last thing she needed was to find herself in detention, or worse. There would be plenty more opportunities for that later in the year, she didn't need to start now.
Her rare trips to the kitchen never failed to amuse her; as soon as she stepped into the place, she was amazed by the amount of house elves who were still hard at work, even this late in the night. Preparing for breakfast the next morning, cleaning the kitchens... it was like a sea of them. And they all moved around her, as if she was a rock in the river of small, living things. It took barely a moment for one of them to stop and ask her if she needed help with anything. It was one of those things that made her feel slightly better about whatever was going on -- the House Elves, no matter who you were, were pleased to help you.
"Yeah, actually," she said, an uncharacteristically nice smile finding it's way onto her face, "Would it be possible to get a cup of coffee? And... maybe some celery, or something?" The House Elf nodded, and disappeared into the crowd of them. It didn't take Rita terribly long to lose track of where it had gone, so she pulled a stool towards one of the empty counters none of the House Elves seemed to be using. After perching on it, she flipped open her journal to the unfinished article, dipped her quill into her green ink, and started to write.
It wasn't long before she found the coffee and celery in front of her; she was always impressed by how quickly the House Elves managed to get requests together. She imagined, though, that they had plenty of practice. She murmured her thanks and turned back to her journal, intent on finishing what she had started hours earlier. First it had to be finished, then she had to edit it, and then there was the matter of making copies of it -- the latter, however, could be done tomorrow. Or was that today? She wasn't entirely sure... she hadn't bothered to check the time. Oh well.