The Middle (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Seven

Harry did very well to school his reactions, as The Prophet was a disreputable rag as far as he was concerned, dedicated to the slanderous gossip that it flaunted alongside the actual news, with the sole intention of destroying the lives of innocent people.

As someone who knew his life could be ruined in an instant, Harry always sided with the 'guilty' party, and felt keenly for what must surely turn out to be their ruination.

"I have yes," he conceded.

"Well," Mrs Skeeter pursued. "We are privileged to many channels of communication, and it is my knowledge that both yours and Mr Malfoy's betrothals happened within hours of each other, and that you were not always so close – the many years you spent apart whilst he was studying at Oxford I mean."

Harry frowned authentically at his current social partner, wishing more than ever for her departure. "These are not so miraculous events, Mrs Skeeter," he said patiently. "The temporary separation you have mentioned between Mr Malfoy and I is only natural considering the social chasm that lorded over our acquaintance. We were young men, with feelings close to the surface, and for a time it got the better of us. I am delighted to say we overcame them, and when we travelled in the same social circles, is it hardly so surprising that we would both find desirable young ladies to our liking, and chose to announce our intentions within an agreed time frame?" He smirked, allowing his fond memories to guide him. "After all, if you know anything of Malfoy and I, you will know of our fierce competitiveness?"

Mrs Skeeter narrowed her eyes at Harry, studying him. "Yes, of course," she said with a fluttering laugh. "But how then did you accrue such a fortunate home? You have no actual connection to the Malfoy family, for him to bestow such a property on you?"

Again, Harry scowled down at the peculiar creature at his side, her jewels and coloured feathers glinting in the bold afternoon sun. "Mrs Skeeter," he said patiently. "I am unsure as to what tales you have heard, but I purchased Malfoy Cottage legitimately, through a desire from all parties to be living within close proximity to one another – Mrs Potter and Mrs Malfoy are close acquaintances from their later youth too, didn't you know?"

"Yes I did know that," she conceded with eyes glancing sideways.

"And you should know that for a couple in our position, the rent is very favourable?"

Mrs Skeeter met Harry with a beaming smile that he was sure had wilted many a man in the past. But he was not to be fooled. "I am sorry, I do not wish to intrude on your personal arrangements," Mrs Skeeter simpered, snapping her fan open and cooling herself once again. "But, I have heard some astounding accounts, and as a worldly woman I am intrigued as to certain peculiarities in the relationship shared between you and Mrs Potter, with that of Mr and Mrs Malfoy?"

Harry felt the very flesh on his neck stir in apprehension. "Mrs Skeeter," he said, his voice cold. It was not his usual manner, he was known to all as delightful and happy man. But he was not enamoured with this busy-body's line of questioning. "I am not sure that the married life of either myself and Mrs Potter, or the Malfoys, have any relevance to anyone besides ourselves.

She dipped her head in contrition and fanned herself again, making her auburn curls bounce. "My dear Mr Potter," she breathed, like a dear friend would a secret. "I am merely concerned for your well-being. For your happiness in marriage. For I have heard that you barely spend five nights per year at your own home, and instead seek refuge in this very abode." She widened her eyes and flicked her fan towards Malfoy Manor, and Harry's heart clenched.

"My dear madam!" he barked out in a laugh, partly natural, and partly constructed to cover his great distress. "Does The Daily Prophet credit its sources amongst idle house staff?" He adjusted his jacket and wished fervently he had a cup of tea to sip on to distract his nerves. But he stilled them forcibly and laughed once again. "I do indeed enjoy a considerable amount of male company, as do our wives seek female companionship with each other. But this was the design is such close housing arrangements, I fail to see the unusualness?"

Mrs Skeeter's eyes pierced him dangerously, and for a moment Harry forgot the hundreds of guests milling about them, and saw only the threat before him. "The unusualness of most nights of the year spent apart from the woman you bound yourself to by God and by law?"

The question hung for only a moment, until thank Christ almighty they were once again reunited with their other halves.

"Potter you look positively famished," Draco announced possessively as he slung an arm around his shoulders. "Has Mrs Skeeter been delighting you too fervently?"

Harry smiled defiantly at her. "Not at all," he announced. "Though I feel the hour has come to switch from tea to wine, what say you dear fellow?"

Draco, his beloved, saw the keen desperation in his eyes, and lit up his features accordingly. "Why I do believe you are right!" he exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "Let us go find Dobson, he will see to that matter at once."

They bid their farewells to the Skeeters, and slipped into the throng.