The War of the News
Alecto Carrow; Suspected to be involved in the torture of and brutal assault of muggle children
Amycus Carrow; Suspected to be involved in the torture of and brutal assault of muggle children
Antonin Dolohov; Convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewitt
Augustus Rookwood; Convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named
Bartemius Crouch Jr; Convicted of the torture and permanent inca-pactation of Frank and Alice Longbottom
Bellatrix Lestrange; Convicted of the torture and permanent inca-pactation of Frank and Alice Longbottom
Fenrir Greyback; Convicted of the slaughter of at least 87 muggles and over a hundred wizards and witches
Elias Mulciber; Convicted of aiding in the brutal murders of the Bones family (six)
Varicella Snyde; Convicted of aiding in the brutal murders of the Bones family (six)
Adamas Snyde; Convicted of aiding in the brutal murders of the Bones family (six)
Omari Avery; Suspected of aiding in the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewitt
Rabastan Lestrange; Convicted of the torture and permanent inca-pactation of Frank and Alice Longbottom
Rodolphus Lestrange; Convicted of the torture and permanent inca-pactation of Frank and Alice Longbottom
Ronan Travers; Convicted of aiding in the brutal murders of the entire McKinnon family (five)
Thorfinn Rowle; Convicted of aiding in the brutal murders of the entire McKinnon family (five)
Welcoming their return to Hogwarts, the Quartet was instantly greeted with the faces of the fifteen escaped Death Eaters everywhere they looked. There were whispers in every compartment on the train, there were glares to Draco when he tried to push his way through the crowd to the Slytherin table, and glances back at Harry from whispering students in packs on his way to the Gryffindor Common Room. For a moment, he feared that maybe he’d have a repeat of his first night here, and another friend would blow up at him, but Seamus had stuffed his head in his books and every student's eye he met on his way to bed was not suspicious; more guilty.
“They’re starting to believe us,” Hermione whispered over breakfast the first morning back, the Prophet balanced against her pumpkin juice as she bit into her buttered toast, reading it intently. “What with the rubbish the Prophet’s putting out for theories. The Dementors are here guarding the school, aren’t they? And they’re acting like the Ministry just lost full control over them…”
For Dementors, as they had when Sirius had broken out of Azkaban two years prior, had flooded every patch of sky outside the castle walls, giving everyone the desire to stay locked inside of Hogwarts instead of venturing out into a suddenly cold world, where all their happiness would only get sucked away. Harry had already been down to the Room of Requirement early in the morning to prepare it for a lesson on Patronuses, before remembering he had his impending first Occlumency lesson with Snape approaching, and leaving in a depressing huff, as if a Dementor was over his shoulder that very moment.
“Whose side are we on?” Ron asked, swallowing down his latest bite of sausage wrapped with bacon that had nearly made Hermione sick at the sight of it. “Ministry or Prophet?” For once, Hermione looked unsure, having to think on it for more than usual before saying, “It doesn’t matter. Right now we just need to tell the world the truth about Voldemort. Or at least…” Her eyes brightened, landing on something behind the boys’ heads. “Convince Hogwarts.”
The two turned around to see what she had seen, for she had just sprung out of her seat in excitement, and saw Draco, leaning his chin on his hand, picking at his eggs with a fork with no interest in eating them, and realized exactly what she meant.
“Woah, you don’t mean -”
“I do.” She paused, catching their confused looks and sighing, “C’mon, keep up boys! The Daily Prophet is spewing out rubbish, everyone knows that now! What did we do last year when people started to realize Skeeter’s work was rubbish?” Ron frowned, “Draco started Malfoy’s Hogwarts News. But it didn’t help in the long run, because the world didn’t read it. It was only for school!”
“But what have we been trying to do since September, Ron?” As Ron mulled it over, he was just on the brink of putting it all together when Harry said, “Convince the students.” Then he snapped his fingers together, grinning. “So we don’t need to tell the public, because Fudge just wants the youth to believe in him, like Percy said.” Hermione nodded. “That’s what every leader wants in history.”
“You're brilliant, Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, pushing himself up from his seat abruptly, and then they both froze, Hermione startled by his sudden compliment and Ron by the rapid beating of his heart. All the while Harry watched, a smirk snaking up his lips. “I mean,” Ron mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “Good job. We would have never thought of that on our own.” He gestured to Harry, hoping it would tear those brown eyes away from him, but they didn’t move.
“Thanks… Ron.” She paused, hand frozen in adjusting the strap of her bag, and tilted her head, as if unsure how to approach the next steps in their conversation. "You know you aren't so bad yourself. You put that all together really quick." "Thanks." Ron breathed, but he had frozen too, eyes wide as if in a trance.
"You're wearing my perfume."
"Yep."
"You look pretty…"
"Huh?"
"I said it smells pretty!"
"Oh," Hermione took a cautious step back, shuffling her feet together and nodding. "Yeah, I guess it does…" Harry slowly lowered his head further over his goblet and began contemplating drowning himself in pumpkin juice.
"I gotta go –" "Could I, er –" Awkwardly, Ron walked a few steps down the table as Hermione did, gesturing to the doors with one hand and reaching for his bag with the other. "Could I come with you? You just are always off doing things on your own and –" "Of course!" Thank Merlin, Hermione smiled, and the pair continued to walk alongside each other, separated only by the table, towards the exit, Ron looking as if his birthday had arrived early.
As soon as they were gone, Harry downed the rest of his drink in one swig, pumped a fist in the air, and sprung out of his seat with new vigor and the hope his best friends might actually sort out whatever awkward feelings they had going on. When he turned around though, he stumbled a bit, meeting the face of Cho Chang and feeling a punch in the gut from her attractiveness once again.
“Hi, Harry,” she said, raising a hand and waving it slightly, and he nodded, saying, “Hi.” even as he felt a lurch in his stomach. “Had a good Christmas?” she asked. “Yeah, not bad,” he responded. Stiff conversation, as if they hadn’t shared a kiss under the mistletoe before break. It certainly wasn’t helping how Harry’s stomach was somersaulting so much he could hardly speak and Cho’s face was going pinker, as if she was very embarrassed.
“Mine was pretty quiet. Erm… there’s another Hogsmeade trip next month, did you see the notice?”
“What? Oh, no, I haven’t checked the noticeboard since I got back.”
“Yes, it’s on Valentine’s Day…”
“Right,” Why exactly was that important? Harry desperately racked his brain for the answer, but couldn’t find it among the fifteen Death Eater photos, Occlumency lessons, Quidditch practice, and H.O.O.D. meetings. His mind was far too clogged, but maybe… “Well, I suppose you want to -?”
“Only if you do,” she suddenly brightened, smiling, and he froze, because he was about to bring up H.O.O.D. meetings, because that was all members would talk to him about since he got back, so why had she… “I - er -”
“It’s okay if you don’t! Don’t worry. I-I’ll see you around…” She had suddenly turned mortified, backing up from him and turning to walk back to where Marietta stood waiting impatiently, tapping her foot and watch. She had just reached her best friend when the answer to what she could possibly have met hit Harry in his tipsy stomach and he yelled, rather loudly, “Cho! Hey, CHO!”
She turned around quickly, hair flapping, face hopeful, as Harry bounded towards her, slowly to a stop and taking a deep breath before asking, suddenly feeling thrashed back to Fourth Year, asking an older, much more attractive than him girl to the Yule Ball and barely getting the words out of his mouth. "D'you want to come into Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's Day?"
“Oooh, yes!” she immediately cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet and blushing a brilliant scarlet. He beamed back at her, glad to have gotten something right. “Right… well… that’s settled then,” and with that he bent down to kiss her on the forehead, making her giggle and awkwardly kiss him on the cheek, before turning to run off to Marietta, who was now rolling her eyes at them. Harry found himself a lot happier than he had been having to look at the pictures of the escaped Death Eater’s wherever he went, and practically skipped off to the library.
When he got there, he found Ron and Hermione about as red faced as he was, sitting across from each other with their heads bowed, noses practically pressed to their papers. He found that when they looked up, and at his questioning both said, “Nothing!” that he really didn’t want to know the ‘something’ that had most definitely happened at this table.
-*-*-*-
Something was off with Draco. Harry had to notice this immediately upon Gryffindor and Slytherin’s class with him in Potions, where Hermione had tried her best to talk to him, despite the introductions of their newest decree, on the two announced that morning. The first pertained to inter-house interactions at meal and class times, and the second to teacher’s discussing anything not pertaining to their subject. The second was most obviously referring to the questions that were being asked in regards to the escaped convicts, but the first was making the Quartet's life all the harder.
It was especially getting on Harry’s nerves in this class, where it would be one thing to fret over the loss of a friend giving him copies of Snape’s instructions on the board, but now as he glanced at Draco occasionally in longing, he could see the slumped shoulders, the bags under his eyes, and the distant look in his eyes, and desperately wanted to ask what was wrong. Hermione insisted that getting him sold on her and Ron’s Malfoy Hogwarts News idea was more important than his health however, so he was pushed aside.
(This was one of the many times he wished Hermione had more empathy, but the smoke was getting thicker and he had to scribble down these ingredients himself quickly or he’d be back to getting Poor, Dreadful, or Merlin forbid Troll grades.)
As soon as they were released Harry practically attacked his friend, however, running right up next to him and pushing Crabbe and Goyle aside as he did so without a thought to their exclamations or Hermione’s behind him.
“Are you alright?”
Draco didn't acknowledge him at first, instead keeping on pushing through the crowd of scarlet and emerald cloaks around them, headed for lunch with a little more hurry in his step than Harry thought would be normal. The only sign he gave he wasn't deaf was the quick flicking of his gray eyes to the boy beside him before looking away. Harry didn't give up, however, instead continuing to speak, whether he was addressing a brick wall or not.
"You have circles under your eyes. Have you slept lately? You looked great on Christmas, what happened? Not that something had to have happened, you just seem off. I've never seen you brew a Potion that Snape didn’t give an ‘Outstanding’ to."
Draco finally planted his feet to a stop, already having reached the top of the dungeon stairs, and declared, "I'm fine," then continued to walk forward. Harry followed, not missing a beat.
"Well of course you are, you're Draco Malfoy. Why wouldn't you be? I was joking, of course, like we do. Or did. we haven't since we got back you know, but it's really fun when we joke and I know you missed it so I'm just confused –"
"It's been a day, Potter," Draco pulled the doors to the Great Hall open, turning to look his friend in the eye for the first time since he got back and saying, "Give me a break." Before turning and shutting the door behind him, not even letting his other Slytherin friends through.
Harry stood frozen in the flow of traffic as the students shoved around him to get through the doors, hardly taking notice of Ron coming to stand on one side of him, folding his arms and glaring at the door, with Hermione standing on his other side, adjusting her bag uncomfortably.
“Harry -”
“You heard him,” He stepped back and out of the crowd, beginning to walk out of the courtyard. “He doesn’t want to see me. I’m gonna - er - send a letter. Have lunch without me, okay?” He vanished in the crowd of students eager to get inside for lunch after that, and Hermione and Ron glanced at each other anxiously, before both turning and bursting through the doors, running through the crowds of students hurrying to their respective house tables in pursuit of Draco.
“What was that for?” Ron demanded when they finally caught him by the arms on either side when he was about to sit down across from the rapidly chattering Vincent, Gregory, Theodore, and Blaise. It sounded vaguely as if they were trying to convince the latter, grumpy looking boy to come to the seventh-floor corridor with them sometime, and had Ron and Hermione not been focused on Draco, they might have realized they were trying to get Blaise to join the H.O.O.D.. “That was really uncalled for, Draco!”
“Was it?” There was no emotion in his voice; no anger, or playfulness. He could be lying, for all they knew, but his voice wasn’t giving anything away, leaving the two Gryffindor’s glancing at each other worriedly. “Draco, Harry’s right, you’ve been wanting to have your friendship with him back to normal for months! What... happened?” Draco yanked his arm out of Hermione’s grip, giving her a cold glare and then shrugging his shoulders to say, “Christmas.”
Once again, he left the two alone and stunned, sitting down at the bench before him and muttering, “You better get back to your Gryffindor friends before Umbridge sees.” Hermione shivered, finding herself stepping a little closer to Ron as they walked back to their own table. Upon sitting down, she remained close, shoulders touched, and looked up at him to whisper, “I’m worried about him.” Ron nodded, hand barely brushing hers. “Me too. About both of them.”
-*-*-*-
Throughout the following week, not only was the Gryffindor trio eager to get Draco to at least say more than three words to them, but they had to take notice of how the rest of the H.O.O.D, including his fellow Slytherins, were being ignored too. Even Anthony kept coming up to them asking what was wrong with his boyfriend, who had ignored him and brushed away every kiss since getting back from break. This was creating a domino effect Harry kept telling himself Draco could never predict, where now the Slytherins were ignoring their other friends and were in turn becoming upset, Anthony was making his friends upset, and even the Twins were finding it harder to make jokes. Not to mention he, Ron, and Hermione were always preoccupied with trying to get Draco back to normal now. All of this culminated in the postponing of his lessons on Patronuses, as Harry couldn’t see what the point would be; hardly anyone would have the mindset to make one.
Besides, he’d been looking forward to reconnecting with Draco when teaching him it. That seemed impossible now.
Harry had thought and hoped that maybe a game of Quidditch would show the real Draco was still there, but even that proved hopeless; While Draco did manage to snatch the snitch from under Cho's nose with his much faster broom he did it with some, admittedly, illegal foul play Harry had thought for sure his friend was long since done with. This was not helped by Beater Anthony Goldstein, who had also had his skills stunted by raging thoughts about Draco’s behavior and seemed to be constantly arguing with Michael Corner over it. The end score was 220-80, and Harry hurried out of the stands when it ended so he wouldn’t have to fake happiness towards a no doubt grumpy Cho. A tiny voice in his head told him that anger was warranted based on Draco's behavior, but his much stronger worries for him overpowered it.
H.O.O.D. meetings had become useful for Hermione getting all of the members on board for her Malfoy’s Hogwarts News idea, and while Harry hated the lost time for training, he had to admit he saw potential in convincing the school of the truth. Not to mention, Hermione kept hinting at a trick up her sleeve she still had and was coming back from the Owlery once every two days now, happier than ever.
With all this in mind, and the ever present stress of Occlumency lessons that were wearing on Harry’s brain so much, he had to be eternally grateful he wasn’t teaching but instead observing his classmates writing about him for the school paper, just so it gave him the opportunity to give his mind a rest, January was passing very quickly. Maybe even quicker without Draco by his side to cherish small moments, though now those memories from Fourth Year seemed farther than ever, and he found himself only wanting him back to help with his Occlumency. Still, February had arrived unexpectedly, and with it, Harry’s date with Cho.
So worried for Draco’s sudden elimination of contact with him (just two weeks ago he had stopped coming to H.O.O.D meetings, too, but according to Crabbe and Goyle was still showing up to Quidditch practice, however out of it he may be.) Harry had spared conversations with Cho few and far between, and never spoke many words to her at all. What resulted was a date he was quite looking forward to, having missed nice and genuine company with his friends being stressed out constantly.
So, on the morning of Valentine’s Day, Harry got up and dressed meticulously, eagerly awaiting the afternoon when he’d get to meet his pretty girlfriend on the path to Hogsmeade.
-*-*-*-
The same could not be said for another couple, who were anything but happy on this day.
“What’re you playing at?” With the precision of weeks of doing the same whenever someone approached him for conversation, Draco turned his book on the Dark Arts upside down after closing it so as not to draw suspicion if someone saw the cover, kept his eyes trained on his eggs and bacon, and took a sip of orange juice to further avoid Anthony’s gaze. “Whatever do you mean? I’m simply enjoying my breakfast… in peace.” His voice was as flat and monotone as he could make it, as it was with everyone else he’d had to force himself to make conversation with, but the added ‘in peace’ revealed the malice beneath it, and unfortunately, only made his boyfriend more upset.
“Really?” Anthony scoffed, “Well, with how strong your desire to have breakfast ‘in peace’ must’ve been this morning, you surely forgot that today is Valentine’s Day. The problem with that, however, is that I reminded you yesterday of that fact. And the day before that. Countless times really, among other empty conversation starters you have ignored since Christmas! Honestly, Draco, what happened to you?” Unlike Harry, sweet Harry, there was no sincerity or care in his tone. He had taken the ignoring of his presence and resorted straight to anger. Draco couldn’t quite make sense of why, but that made him angry for some reason.
So angry he forced himself to look up and look the Ravenclaw in the eye when he told him, “I didn’t want to tell you.”
The glint of anger left Anthony’s eyes in a second, replaced with solemn resolve, but he still bit his lip to contain his anger when he said, “Just spit it out.”
“I’m breaking up with you.”
“Of course you are.” With a scoff and a quick sniff (really, tears already?) Anthony scooped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, shaking his head at his boyfriend - now ex - as he backed away. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but… You are not the Draco I met on the train.” Draco frowned, licking his lips and lowering his head back to his food. He didn’t say a word, and could hear Anthony scoff once more before stomping away, still sniffing, and felt a solid lump of guilt settle to a pit in his stomach.
No, that won’t do.
With great resolve, he shoved all prior feelings towards Anthony Golstein aside in his mind, adding them to lumps labeled Granger, Bilius, Vincent, Gregory, Harry… Everyone he’d been ignoring every day and not even had the guts to talk to since Christmas. Not that he thought talking would help. What would he even say?
Absent-mindedly, he found himself rubbing his left forearm, concealed by his Slytherin robes, and sighing.
They’d never understand, and would most definitely tell him to tell a teacher, or worse, Dumbeldore. The last thing he needed was to tell Dumbledore. Instead, he picked up the Dark Arts book, ripped off a piece of bacon with his teeth, and continued to read, thinking he’d manage to get through the rest of this chapter before heading into Hogsmeade and more specifically the Hog’s Head and find a quiet place to read, away from the prying eyes of people who couldn’t take his silence as a sign to simply leave him alone.
-*-*-*-
Of course, this plan had to go entirely haywire when he found the Hog’s Head had become members of the H.O.O.D’s chosen place to eat when they wanted to get away from prying eyes, and maybe even talk about their secret society freely. Or practice spells, Draco couldn’t miss, as he swerved his head to avoid a drastic miss-fired spell, followed by an exclamation of, “Sorry!” from Garrison Lynch.
A voice deep inside him said he shouldn’t be as rude to the little kid as he was to his other friends, but he shoved that with the same air as he did his feelings for Anthony, turning and slamming the door on his way out, sighing and trekking up through the wet grass to the Three Broomsticks instead, hoping Madam Rosmerta might cave and give him a bottle of Firewhiskey if he paid enough.
Just as he expected, with it being Valentine’s Day and all, couples dotted almost every table in the usually busy place, and he sat himself down at the bar beside Weaslette and her boyfriend Corner, who he only recognized uncomfortably from Anthony’s group of friends. He shoved to the side a bit so they’d just see his shoulder and back of his head and hopefully not recognize him as he propped his arm up to further hide the book he opened on the bar, which he knocked against with his knuckles to draw Rosmerta’s attention.
He was halfway through the paragraph describing the Avada Kedavra curse, the best wand types to use it with, the proper stance and movement, and the mindset to be in, when the Madam arrived, cleaning a glass, and offering him a welcoming smile not unlike she’d give any other customer. Not unlike the friendly smiles he kept getting, that made the cloud of guilt in the back of his mind grow oh so bigger.
“Hey, Malfoy. What, here on Valentine’s Day without your boyfriend? What’s the matter? Trying to study -”
“I’d just like a Firewhiskey, please. Your largest size.” Predictably, once Rosmerta had recovered from the initial shock of such a statement, she blinked, scoffed, and proclaimed, “Absolutely not! What kind of a business do you think I’m running here? I can’t poison children!”
Avada Kedavra: A quick, but never easy way of killing your enemies. More simple in a fight than poison, but better resort to the deadly drug when caught in a tight spot of sworn secrecy.
Poison.
“On second thought,” Draco lifted his head, offering her a quick smile and releasing some of his pent up emotions so as to make it look genuine and real. “I’ll just take a Butterbeer.” She grinned at that, setting down her glass and ducking to bring out a bottle. “You better.”
“Here,” he gave her double pay, smoothly removing his wand from his pocket along with his pouch of money, and keeping a tight hold on it after dropping the coins in her hand. “Have a bottle for yourself, will you? It’s a busy day - it being a holiday and all - you look like you need a pick-me-up.” He duly noted the fact that he could hear his heart beating, it had gotten so loud, and felt it leap into his throat when she grinned and took out a second bottle. “You know what? You’re right, I do deserve this.”
They popped the tops on the bottles, and he grinned, managing to say, “Cheers,” through the bile that was building in his throat as they clinked their glasses. She immediately started drinking, and as he brought his bottle to his lips, he took a deep breath, swallowing down the bile and his rapidly beating heart.
“Imperio.”
He allowed himself a long gulp of Butterbeer before setting down the bottle and grinning at Rosmerta, who was smiling back, on the surface seeming like normal, but when he looked in her eyes a little deeper, they appeared dazed, and had a green gleam to them, but the longer he looked, the more it faded. Any passerby would assume it was a trick of the light.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said with a smirk, and kept on drinking.
-*-*-*-
Women. Harry didn’t understand them. Nor did he understand men much either, but as of the moment he really had a thing against women. What had he even said that was so wrong? He’d tried to talk to her about something, anything, but what made her think he’d ever enjoy that awful pink place? It was like a palace built for Umbridge, and surely she had to have understood he’d hate that kind of place. But no, then she’d gone and said that Cedric liked it. Because of course he couldn’t get through a date without being compared to her McHotstuff ex.
So he did what he’d do to anyone, date or not, and pointed out how he had ghosted her over and after the summer and didn’t deserve to still be on her mind. Unfortunately - and his only solution to this was because she was a girl - she hadn’t taken those words very well.
A minute later, and after a haywire attempt to hold her hand that ended in him tipping a cup of coffee onto her dress, she had got up and left the pink palace, and he had followed shortly after. Did he feel all that bad about how he acted? No. In his book, he hadn’t even done anything wrong, despite what people most likely believed as they eyed him trudging through rain and mud down High Street with his hands in his pockets. Despite looking everything a boy in the wrong, he knew he had to be right, he just had to be, because, well, then he'd have to face an awkward apology to Cho, which he couldn't even think about right now.
He banged open the doors to the pub grumpily and, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, he quickly began scanning the Three Broomsticks for anyone he might be able to enjoy the company of as he waited for Hermione. His eyes immediately found the back of pale blonde head seated straight across from him and, subconsciously, he found himself smiling before walking forwards and plopping down beside him with a, "Hey, Mals." Predictably, Draco only hummed a response, but it was better than nothing at all in Harry's book, so he didn't move, instead opening his mouth and talking as if Draco was the same friend from last year.
"How've you been? How's Anthony? I thought for sure you'd be tossing Valentine's and kisses to each other all day today. Wish Cho and I could do the same… I just don't understand her sometimes, you know? Sure women in general are confusing but Cho… Cho's a whole different level from Hermione or Ginny. Can't tell if there is any hope it might even work out at this point, but at least I got you, right Draco? We understand each other, always have. Well, not always, obviously, but the whole time we've been friends. Damn Ravenclaws… Why do they all have to be so confusing? Luna's nice enough, but I still can't understand a thing she says. I like her though, she's cool. Different is cool sometimes, right Draco? But not different places to eat, those aren't cool. Stick to the Three Broomsticks, my friend, and maybe the Hog's Head, but stay away from Madam Puss –"
"Harry! Draco! Over here!"
The jet black head of hair swiveled around to meet the bushy brunette’s eyes and Harry grinned brightly at Hermione waving obnoxiously from the other side of the room, hopping off his seat and dragging Draco’s off his without a second thought.
The platinum blonde had only a split second to slide his book and wand off of the table and into his pocket before being pulled forcefully to a meeting he had denied being a part of several times for very good reason, proven by the slightly manic but very recognizable glint Hermione now held in her brown eyes.
It was a very unlikely set up, even for a meeting at the Three Broomsticks, and these two people most certainly couldn’t have been together at the same time and happen to sit next to each other, no, no, Hermione had clearly orchestrated this. Went full, ‘Granger Danger’ as a Draco much unlike the sullen one now would say. For on her side sat none other than Rita Skeeter, ex-journalist on the Daily Prophet, secret but proven animagus, and the Quartet’s fourth least favorite person in the world.
Or, at least Harry and Draco, who both believed that Hermione would easily slide this woman up above Barty Crouch Jr for the third spot with how much she hated her. So why on earth would she have personally invited her to drinks?
“You’re early!” Hermione exclaimed as soon as the two had sat down across from her. “I thought you were with Cho, I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least!”
“Cho?” said Rita at once, eyeing Harry above her pointed spectacles with a mischievous and all too familiar magenta lipped smirk. “A girl?” Harry glanced worriedly down at her crocodile-skin handbag as she grabbed it, knowing what trouble making device lay within. Hermione had slapped her hand in a second though, and Harry blinked, and all worries of troublesome articles Rita could write about him and Cho vanished.
“It’s none of your business if Harry’s been with a hundred girls,” Hermione said, her voice calm enough to seem unbothered. “So you can put that away right now.” And Rita did; clearly, the Granger girl had the much older woman wrapped tight around her finger in her blackmail. Still, she leveled the boys with a soft smile, continuing, “Draco! I had no idea you were coming! I though for sure that -”
“I was never here.” He cut her off, beginning to stand, “I have to… er… study, for… Exams and… all that…” He trailed off when he glanced down and realized Harry had reached at and took his hand. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he felt his feelings pulsing angrily against his defenses, struggling to break free when he raised his gaze to meet a pair of shining emeralds.
“You’re staying,” It was an order, not a plea, Draco was actually unsure what it was, but he knew it was enough. Enough to make him slide back onto his seat and nod with an, “Okay,” but not enough to keep him holding hands, as he detached his own from Harry’s as soon as he could. The Gryffindor didn’t mind, instead raising his eyebrows at the girl across from him, who beamed.
“So, Granger, what are you up to?” Draco asked, clearly his throat rather excessively and she blinked, then nodded, opening her mouth to speak but getting interrupted by, “Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived,” Rita bent down to the long, spiraling straw in her buzzing drink (most definitely alcoholic) and sipped. “I suppose I’m allowed to talk to him, am I?” She questioned Hermione's expression following swallowing.
Hermione rolled her eyes, waving a hand to say, “Yes, I suppose you are.”
Rita tossed her bob of blonde hair in a way that was probably meant to exude some of her past attitude, but Harry took notice of the chipping on her two-inch talons and the unusual and slightly unnatural straightness to her usually elaborately curled hair. She made to take another sip but said out of the corner of her mouth not holding onto the straw, “Pretty girl, is she, Harry?”
“One more word about Harry’s love life and the deal’s off and that’s a promise,” said Hermione irritably.
“What deal?” Rita immediately straightened, frowning. “You haven’t mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days…” She drew in a deep breath, shaking with the rage that looked like she was willing to trade in time in azkaban to strangle a child, but Hermione was not fazed as she continued on, cold as ice, “Yes, yes, one of these days you’ll write more horrible stories about Harry and me. Find someone who cares, why don’t you?”
“They’ve run plenty of horrible stories about Harry and Mr. Pureblood Traitor over there this year without my help,” She shot both boys a look, lingering on Draco who had suddenly gone paler than usual. “How has that made you feel, boys? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?”
“They feel angry, of course,” Hermione continued smoothly. “Because they’ve told the world the truth and it insists on not believing them.”
“So you actually stick to it, do you, that He Who Must Not Be Named is back?” Rita asked, gazing over at the two boys intently, lips twisting into a sneer as she reached out to her bag once more, almost subconsciously, it seemed. “You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore’s been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you two being the sole witnesses? Even when the Minister as denied -”
“Has he?” They all turned to Hermione, who was tapping her watch, looking around anxiously before spotting whatever it was she was looking for and smirking to herself. “Right on time…” She whispered then turned back to face Rita, “Has he denied it outright?”
“Yes. Multiple times, actually, most recently being his meeting with the Minister of France and Minister Lemaire’s interviews afterwards reporting no change in Fudge claiming Dumbledore to be a liar. Which means,” She leaned closer, waved a scarlet painted finger between the boys. “You two are liars too.”
“They are not, Rita,” Hermione said, raising her chin high with a happy smirk, and patting the stool on her other side. “Or are they, Cornelius?”
The ex-journalist and ex-Champions sitting before her all gaped in surprise and disbelief as a short, heavily cloaked up man came to sit beside Hermione at the remaining stool and pulled up his hood just enough so only they could see, and their backs would obscure him from the rest of the pub. “Don’t call me that,” Minister Fudge said, looking like he desperately wanted to be anywhere but a crowded pub drinking with three students and someone he considered by all accounts a criminal in broad daylight. “But, yes, Rita, they are not lying.”
Skeeter still hadn’t fully (or at all) composed herself, instead gaping at him and blinking rapidly, her mouth trying to form words though none came. Not that Harry and Draco were any different, before the latter leaned forward for the first words, asked, “Granger, are you blackmailing the Minister of Magic?!”
“No!” Hermione gasped while revealing a bottle of Firewhiskey from her bag and handing it off to the Minister, who instantly uncapped it, seemingly fine with drinking and crumbling his political image in front of a group of teens. Most likely because he didn’t quite have much of an image in these particular teens' eyes. “I just invited him, and he said yes.” She put emphasis on the last word with a glare to the Minister, who grimaced, raising an eyebrow. “Did I?”
“Cornelius!”
“I told you not to call me that!” He raised a hand to keep his hood on as he threw his head back to take a swig from the bottle, before slamming it back down and looking at the three students in turn sternly. “Look, I don’t think you children understand the gravity of what we’re about to do here. If I’m seen,” He tucked his cloak further around him, glancing worriedly around the pub. “Well let’s just say you won’t have a Minister to blackmail.”
Hermione bit her bottom lip, gnawing with worry, and leaving them all in silence and Fudge to drink his firewhiskey. Slowly, Harry straightened, opened his mouth, and finally found his voice to ask, “Hermione? What are we doing here, exactly?” He sent a worrisome glance in the guzzling Minister’s direction. “All of us?”
“Oh, right, of course! Well, Minister? What are we here for?” Fudge sent her a worried look than cleared his throat, setting his bottle down firmly and declaring, “I seem to be in over my head in trusting Miss Granger to foresee my plans for your school and its students because she has successfully coerced me into letting Rita Skeeter interview you boys and I for a page in… what did you call it?” He leaned towards Hermione to ask the last part out of the corner of his mouth and she proudly declared, “Malfoy’s Hogwarts News!” Fudge nodded. “Yes, that.”
The boys plus Rita all blinked dubiously before Hermione said, quite forwardly, “We’re telling the school Voldemort’s back.”
Now everyone was really staring in shock, Rita clamping her mouth shut and opening it again several times before finding the words to say, “You want me to report what they say about He Who Must Not Be Named?” She asked Hermione in a hushed voice, then glanced over at Fudge. “Seriously? Is it all true?”
“Oh yes, I do,” Hermione said as the Minister nodded, back to sipping at the dregs of his Firewhiskey. “The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Harry and Draco report them. They’ll give you all the details, they’ll tell you the names of the undiscovered and discovered Death Eaters they saw there, they’ll tell you what Voldemort looks like now - oh, get a grip on yourself,” The first time she’d said his name Rita had been too shocked to be fazed, but now, she jumped out of her seat, slopping half her glass of unknown-alcohol down herself.
While blotting her raincoat with a napkin Hermione had practically chucked at her, she said, “I only write for the Prophet, not this Malfoy Hogwash News or whatever it was you called it. Besides, nobody will believe a thing they say. The world thinks Harry’s delusional and Mr. Malfoy here has a father who narrowly escaped Azkaban.”
“Which is what I’m here for,” Fudge placed his bottle down again then glanced over at Hermione, raising an eyebrow. “Right?” She nodded, and Rita frowned, looking much like she was pouting. “Oh get over yourself, Rita, you can’t weasel your way out of this one. Trust me, I try with this girl, but she’s tricky. Besides, you’re lucky not to be in Azkaban right now because she’s promised me she can keep you on a leash and use you when necessary. This is necessary, got that?”
“I get that it’s blackmail.” Rita placed down the napkin and folded her arms. “And an awful idea. Your press image will go down excrementall -”
“In a school, Rita, just a school, which is precisely the idea. Then, when the time is right when I can announce You-Know-Who’s return publicly, I’ll have a school on my side that can easily sway their parents with this boy’s newspaper.” He gestured to Draco who shrugged his shoulders, admitting, “It’s a good newspaper.”
Rita glanced between Harry, Draco, Fudge, and Hermione all in turn before sighing rather excessively and gulping down the rest of her drink, though it wasn’t much, forgetting about the straw and placing it back down so carelessly that it slid against the wood of the table. “Fine, I’ll do it. But,” she folded her arms tight and protectively, raising her chin. “What kind of pay am I looking at here?”
All four answered at the same time.
“Not happening.” Harry said with an eye roll earned from annoyance at the events of earlier today.
“I’m broke.” Draco said somewhat truthfully because while he wasn’t technically, there was no way he could call home for extra galleons now.
“You’ll be paid in not immediately getting shipped off to Azkaban.” Fudge said at the same time Hermione smirked with a, “The ‘not revealing you as an illegal animagus’ kind.” The two glanced at each other strangely after, as if they most certainly did not want to be agreeing on something in such a way but didn’t quite mind it as much as they thought they should.
“I’m supposed to do this for free?” Rita growled, meanwhile, sneering at Hermione who turned back to her and nodded calmly. “Well, yes, otherwise, as you very well know, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the Prophet might give you a lot for an insider’s account of life in Azkaban.”
Again, that seemed preferable to restraining herself from strangling a child, but now the Minister himself was sitting across from her. (though he was currently engrossed in throwing back his bottle only to find it empty)
“I don’t suppose I’ve got any choice, have I?” She asked, voice shaking in something Harry couldn’t quite pinpoint; fear, or anger, or both. She finally got to open her crocodile bag and withdraw parchment and her precious Quick-Quotes Quill. Harry found his stomach turning at the mere sight of it when she sucked on the point as usual.
“Okay, boys?” Hermione asked, turning to her friends then settling on the Minister beside her, who was now eyeing the quill with a pale faced expression. “Ready to tell the public the truth?”
“I suppose,” Harry shrugged and Draco nodded, “Alright then,” as he saw no way of getting out of this now. Rita balanced the Quill on her parchment and glanced over at the Minister and Hermione for permission.
“Yes… yes let’s get on with it, then.” Fudge said, nodding and Hermione beamed, waving a hand towards the ex-journalist and fishing a cherry out of her glass. “Tire away, then, Rita.”
-*-*-*-
The next day Draco was forced to lay aside all his time for… Death Eater things… to focus entirely on the new entry in the paper, which he wanted desperately to be his best work. So much so, that the Quartet, including Rita and a still heavily disguised, now complete with a transfigured beard, Fudge held up inside the Hog’s Head, ducking around spells thrown by practicing members of the H.O.O.D and struggling to hear each other over the sound of the chattering kids, but still persistently writing.
The article had to be perfect, it just had to be, even if it took the whole day - and it did.
Harry and Draco were close to giving up at many points, for many reasons. They both found having to relive their past memories of the graveyard, even together, difficult. Worse with how Draco refused to get close to Harry, instead diving into work on the paper, and needing help with Rita for the majority of it, though he hated to admit it, making it as much of his masterpiece as it was hers. They both were exhausted by the day’s end, along with everyone else, but still Harry managed to place a gemino curse on the completed paper and fall asleep on the couch before the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, watching it copy itself over and over.
In the morning, they set up a booth outside the Great Hall and began selling, and the kids, thrilled to see Malfoy’s Hogwarts News back in business, eagerly bought, naive to the contents lying within.
“So you’ll work with the Minister, huh,” Fred said from Draco’s side about halfway through breakfast that morning as he handed two copies to a pair of eager looking second years. “But not us?” “You’re original, number one workers?” George added.
“Boys, we are not going through this again.” Draco said with hardly any emotion behind his words because he was truthfully too tired to go through all of ‘this’ again. “Just let me make some money and lay off it, alright?”
The twins frowned at each other, clearly worried by the sudden change in character, as everyone else around Draco had been since Christmas, but backing off as he asked. Draco shook his head, taking the second year's money and waving them off. They’d understand someday, they had too; he didn’t have a choice here.
He was interrupted by his thoughts when the doors to the Great Hall suddenly flung open, and the four all turned their heads around in surprise to see Colin Creevey, his little brother Dennis at his heels, stumble out and beam up at Harry, clutching the paper to his chest with shaking hands. “Harry! That fight against You-Know-Who… it sounded incredible!” Dennis nodded, shoving his brother aside playfully to butt it, “I can’t believe how brave you were to stand up to him like that!”
“Oh, er - thanks Colin, Dennis, but I…” Harry trailed off when he glanced upwards and saw, to such his surprise he stumble back a bit, tens of kids throwing themselves out of their seats and bolting towards the doors, all talking madly at once when they got their, and all clutching Malfoy’s Hogwarts News in their hands.
“How could Fudge keep this a secret for so long?” Ernie Macmillan gasped as he flipped through the pages madly, being dragged forward by two Hufflepuff girls, Susan and Hannah, who were both beaming at Harry. “I didn’t know how powerful Expelliarmus could be.” Susan said while Hannah exclaimed, “I have got to master it now!”
“Impressive stuff indeed, both of you,” Cedric strode up next to the group of fellow Hufflepuff’s, hands tucked into his pockets, and nodded. “Brave and impressive.”
“More than brave!” They turned to see Pansy shoving aside Garrison Lynch and glowering down at where Draco still sat seated at their booth, counting galleons. “Reckless, and very un-Slytherin like.” Slowly, her glare melted into a grin, “Keep it up! You were incredible, Draco!” and, like they were still third years or younger, Pansy flung herself forward to hug him around the neck, nearly knocking him off his chair in the process and causing several students around them to laugh, Harry included, who could hardly believe the joyful sound erupting from his throat.
“Harry?” He turned, laughs dying in his throat and replaced with a rock at the sight of Cho looking up at him, turning the paper in circles in her hands and blushing pink before lowering her head and saying to her shoes, “I’m really sorry for how I acted yesterday, I just couldn’t make heads or tails of you inviting me to drinks with Hermione Granger. But this interview,” She stopped spinning the paper, looking up at him and beaming, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It was so brave!” She then flung herself around his neck much like Pansy had to Draco, kissing him softly on the cheek before letting go, face scarlet and eyes wide. “Alright then, bye!”
He grabbed her wrist before she could entirely disappear in the crowd and smiled softly, “Cho… thank you.” She beamed, nodding. “You’re welcome.”
“Cho!” Marietta was tugging on Cho’s opposite arm now, patience lost from impatiently tapping her foot while the couple was talking and attempting to drag her back into the crowd. “You can snog him later, but I need breakfast before class!”
“Oh c’mon, Mary,” Draco said, finally managing to push Pansy off him and right himself in his chair before it gave out and tipped over. “I saw you buy a copy, you know you liked it.” He raised an eyebrow as her face flushed scarlet and she looked away pointedly. “No I - I didn’t - you have no clue what you’re -” She looked around at the smirking kids then made a sound of anguish and marched up to Harry, saying sternly, “You better have not been lying!” She turned on her heel sharply after that, dragging Cho back into the crowd, who turned and gave Harry a wave before disappearing.
All in all, the newspaper had been a monumental success, and not even the announcement of the banning of Malfoy’s Hogwarts News could deter people from reading and celebrating it and Harry and Draco’s words in it, only making them curious enough to read it and more people learn the truth as a result. Soon it seemed over half the school believed in Harry ,and those were just the people with the courage to say something.
The nail in the coffin was when Harry turned to address the members of the Hogwarts Order of Defense at their meeting at the end of the week, and was met with a familiar Gryffindor face staring up at him, uncomfortably smiling and nodding when their eyes met.
While everyone practiced flinging disarming charms at each other, Harry weaved his way through the crowd to Seamus Finnigan and met his eye once more. He went a little pink as he nodded and croaked out, “Harry,” then cleared his throat and declared, “I’m sorry.”
Harry nodded, considering the apology a moment compared to all the others he had received that week, and settled on smiling, holding out his hand. With something like a grateful sigh, Seamus took it, shook it, and said, “You’re teaching is incredible. I daresay I’m even learning more than with Flitwick.” Harry threw his head back. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Seamus shrugged, “I dunno, give it a few more years maybe, and you’ll be teaching here yourself.” And for the first time since beginning to teach the H.O.O.D, Harry considered that option, glancing around at his friends, his students, and turning the option over in his head a bit.
He met Hermione’s eyes, and she smiled, nodding, so he nodded back. She couldn’t possibly know she had just nodded to the question in his mind, and had only meant to do it as a simple friendly act, but in his heart, Harry knew what it had meant by chance, and it was no coincidence. Maybe he could be a teacher, when all this ended, or if it ever did.
One thing was for sure; the newest installment of Malfoy’s Hogwarts News had set the school on fire, and as Albus Dumbledore set his own copy down on his desk with a soft smile, he knew that maybe, just maybe, the Minister’s plans for his school weren’t entirely insane, and might actually end up working. Before that could happen, however, he needed to figure out who or what had sent him a bottle of heavily poisoned mead, and for what possible reason?