The Ministry

by WolfsbaneKnight

The Ministry of Magic is a place where nothing ever stops. Take a dip into the day to day lives of the senior staff as they fight to keep the country running, with obstacles and hurdles appearing from the most unlikely of places. Experience sadness, joy, laughter and tears as you enter the rollercoaster world of The Ministry. [Inspired by The West Wing]

1. Skeeter

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

---

A/N: Hello everyone. Before I begin with my story I'd just like to say a few things, firstly that if you have read my current works (the HP/Pokemon crossover) this will be very different, primarily of course because this is not a Harry Potter/Pokemon crossover.

Second thing I'd like to mention is that I was tempted to put this under the category of crossover but I decided against it. For those of you who have seen the political tv drama 'The West Wing' you'll recognise a lot of the style and themes from the show as it was my inspiration for writing this. However none of the characters from 'The West Wing' appear or are ever mentioned so I felt that this probably counted as a single universe piece.

If you have never seen 'The West Wing' then first, I'd highly recommend it, and second you don't need to to follow the story or understand it. As I said above this isn't really a proper crossover.

With that out of the way I'll get the story started. Enjoy.

---

Harry Potter scanned over the last few lines he'd written, quill held poised in his grasp as he mentally repeated the words to himself, mulling them over in his head. Setting down the still incomplete monologue Harry reached across his desk for his official Ministry mug, draining the last few dregs of his now cold coffee.

Harry's face twitched in annoyance as he reached the end of his drink, placing the mug back down on his desk with a fleeting scowl before picking up the speech again, mind returned to full focus on the task at hand.

"Hey."

Harry looked up, parchment still raised to his face for inspection.

"Hey," he replied, gently setting the parchment and quill back on his desk and leaning back in his chair. "What's up?"

Neville Longbottom shuffled slightly, hands in his pockets as he stood in the open doorway to Harry's office. "Nothing, really," Neville murmured absently, glancing around the room as he spoke. "What about you?"

Harry paused before answering, slightly wary of Neville's unusual behaviour. "I was just drafting a speech for the trade bill the Minister hinted he might need," he replied, going to take a drink from his coffee mug before belatedly remembering it was empty.

"I thought we agreed he wouldn't get asked about it," Neville said, frowning slightly.

Harry shrugged. "It's a big issue," he replied simply. "It never hurts to be prepared. I've just penned a quick first draft; just some basic guidelines for the Minister to follow. What to focus on, what to avoid…"

"How long did this take you?" Neville asked, picking the scroll of parchment off Harry's desk and glancing over it briefly.

"I admit it took a while," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck subconsciously. "I've been here working on this since about midnight. I Just couldn't get it out of my head and it's been bugging me all-"

"Weren't you supposed to be on a date last night?" Neville cut across, trying to think if he remembered correctly.

"Well, yeah," Harry replied, leaning forward again in his seat. "But, eh, complications arose." Harry looked down, fiddling distractedly with his quill.

"Is everything-?" Neville started cautiously.

"Everything's alright between me and Ginny," Harry quickly assured him, dropping his quill as he looked up. "There was just a nasty potions spill at the lab and she had to stay behind to clear it up." Harry shuddered slightly in his seat. "It sounded disgusting."

Neville was about to speak when he was interrupted by someone knocking on the open door. "Harry, Hermione wants to see you as soon as possible," Cho Chang informed him as Neville stood aside to reveal her in the doorway.

"You know what it's about?" Harry asked his assistant.

"She didn't mention," Cho replied, adjusting the folders crammed under her arms as she stood there.

"Alright, well I guess I'll go see her now," Harry said, rising to his feet. "Thanks, Cho." Cho nodded to him as she left the room, walking briskly back into the growing throng of people populating the ministry building at the early hour of the morning.

"Hopefully Hermione doesn't have anything of significance to tell me," Harry said, pulling on his robes as he prepared to leave his office. "Although why else she'd call me, I do not know." He paused abruptly. "Wait, what were you here for?"

Neville shrugged slightly, hands back in his pockets. "It's nothing really," he dismissed. "It'll wait."

"No, really, tell me and I'll get back to you after I see Hermione," Harry pressed, still absentmindedly organising notes on his desk as he spoke.

Neville seemed to have an internal battle with himself before he sighed and gave in. "I have nothing to do."

Harry looked up, suddenly completely still. "You have nothing to do," Harry repeated slowly, stressing out each individual word. "Nothing?"

Neville nodded bashfully.

"Seriously," Harry said incredulously. "I've got a stack of paperwork taller than my desk and you've got nothing?"

"I know," Neville agreed. "It's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous," Harry repeated with an incredulous, humourless laugh. "Neville, you are the Deputy Chief of Staff for the Minister of Magic."

"I know," Neville agreed, seeming to be regretting speaking. "It's ridiculous but Amos has delegated everything else. I literally have nothing left to do."

Harry just stared at Neville in disbelief. "Get out," Harry said, gesturing to the door. "Seriously, and don't talk to me again until you've got a backlog bigger than mine."

"Sorry, Harry," Neville replied, slipping out of Harry's office as quickly as he had come.

"Seriously," Harry muttered under his breath, finishing rearranging his papers and heading for the door. "Cho!"

"Yes," he heard from the staff cubicles, Cho's dark hair standing out over the partition walls.

"I'm going to see Hermione, when I come back I want our files on the Herbologist's Union I'm supposed to be meeting tomorrow… and some coffee," he added as he strode round the square of cubicles in the centre of the room. "Get me a doughnut as well, I like jam." He finished.

"I know," Cho muttered, starting to move into action as soon as he'd finished speaking, only briefly watching him as he strode through the corridors and out of sight.

"Hey Harry," Ron Weasley greeted as he fell into step beside him, appearing as if from nowhere. "I hear you're off to see Hermione."

"Yep," Harry replied briskly, taking a turn into another corridor, Ron matching his movements. "Happen to know what it's about?"

Ron shook his head. "Haven't the foggiest," he replied, smiling at a passing office worker he happened to know. "But if I've learnt anything from this job it's that it is never good when Hermione is the one calling you over."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry sighed, already exhausted from his all-nighter. "Do you have anything else to say to me?"

Ron shook his head, puffing out his cheeks as he did so. "Nope," he replied.

"Then why are you walking with me?" Harry replied, slightly irritably.

"I was bored," Ron replied with a shrug. "I've just been wandering around and I thought you might be able to interest me. You haven't, by the way."

"Well, sorry," Harry said sarcastically. "Don't you have work to be doing?"

Ron shrugged. "Not really."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Ron with consternation. "Seriously, you too." Ron just looked back with a rather alarmed expression. "Tell you what, go find Neville and beg Amos to give you some work," Harry retorted, his face holding a stormy expression. "I've got a meeting."

He pulled off down a side corridor and into a small reception room where he found a secretary sitting at her desk, scribbling away on a piece of parchment as she sat surrounded by papers.

"Hey Demelza, busy?" Harry asked, eyes glancing only half interestedly at the many stacks of parchment surrounding her.

"The Glasgow report," Demelza replied as a way of answering, waving an arm vaguely over the stacks of parchment.

"Good," Harry replied. "At least I'm not the only one working around here." Harry sighed, trying to calm himself a bit. "Is Hermione in?"

"Just go right in, she's waiting for you," Demelza responded, already having turned her attention back to her work. Harry moved over to the large oak door, glancing back at the swamped Demelza as he knocked, entering as he received a call from inside.

"You wanted to see me," he said, hand on the door in case he needed to close it.

Hermione looked up at him from where she was reading, staring piercingly at him through her thin reading glasses. "Close the door."

Harry sighed to himself softly as he did so, knowing the conversation that was about to follow would not be good. He moved over to the seat in front of Hermione's desk but she gestured for him to take one of the armchairs at the other side of the room, joining him with a file sitting in her lap.

"Please just tell me," Harry said as Hermione seemed to freeze up. "If it's really as bad as I think it is it'll hurt more if we draw it out."

Hermione nodded. Taking a brief breath she put her hand into her file and pulled out a copy of Witch Weekly, causing Harry's eyebrows to raise in surprise.

"There's been an article," Hermione said, delicately opening the magazine to a predetermined page.

"In Witch Weekly?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione nodded. "Rita Skeeter wrote an article about you and Minister Weasley's daughter."

"Ginny?" Harry responded. "How's she got into this, how did Skeeter even find out we were dating?"

"I don't know," Hermione responded apprehensively. "But that's not really the issue. Skeeter has reported that a month ago you and Ginny spent the weekend together at a hotel in Yorkshire."

Harry blinked. "So?" he asked, nonplussed. "What's the problem?"

Hermione sighed. "Harry, the hotel was called 'The Brewer' and has a bad reputation. Drugs, Gambling, Prostitution, the only reason the auror's haven't already busted this place is because they haven't been able to get a warrant. I need to ask if any of this is true."

"What!?" Harry said incredulously. "No, it's all lies. Where on earth does Skeeter get this stuff from?"

"You were on holiday that weekend," Hermione pressed him. "Obviously some of what she has said is true."

"I don't believe this," Harry muttered, rising to his feet angrily and turning his back on Hermione. "I don't believe this."

"Well it's true," Hermione retorted to the back of his head. "And I need you to tell me."

"You believe this story," Harry rounded on her, looking down at her in disbelief. "Unbelievable, I never thought you'd be so narrow minded and stupid-"

"It's my job," Hermione raised her voice, rising to her feet and cutting through Harry mid rant. "Of course I don't believe this but guess what, I'm this Ministries' Press Secretary and I'm the one who's going to be dealing with the fallout of this article. Now I need you to tell me everything so I can get you out of trouble."

Everything was silent for a moment as the two colleagues stared at each other, each panting slightly from their argument. Eventually, Harry's shoulders slumped.

"A month ago I did have the weekend off," he admitted. "I did spend it with Ginny but I did not visit that hotel and neither did Ginny. We spent the entire weekend at my place."

"Can anyone confirm that?" Hermione asked, her voice soft again.

"We were alone all weekend," Harry explained. "The Auror department had to check out my place for safety concerns before the Minister's daughter could stay there, I suppose they'll have some record of that."

"But no one can confirm you were there the whole weekend," Hermione pressed.

"Our Auror guard can confirm that we were not seen leaving my house all weekend," Harry replied, starting to calm down slightly.

Hermione nodded, scribbling something down on a sheet of parchment on her desk. "And I can assume you don't do drugs, or pay for prostitutes?"

"I don't gamble either," Harry replied.

"But you do drink," Hermione pressed.

Harry shrugged. "On occasion, but not much," he replied. "When I do drink I generally do it when I'm in my own home and by myself." There was a brief silence. "God, does that sound sad."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, clearly not having really heard him as she scribbled away.

"Hermione," Harry said suspiciously, eyes focused on the tightness of her facial muscles. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, eyes scanning her face for an answer. "Something more?"

Hermione didn't look at him immediately, but her hand stopped moving and the sound of quill scratching on parchment faded away. "There was, actually," Hermione said, finally turning to face Harry, placing her quill gingerly on her desk. "While I completely believe everything you've told me, there's just… well…"

"What?" Harry asked, a sinking feeling in his chest.

"There's pictures," Hermione replied. "You and Ginny entering 'The Brewer', the two of you kissing and engaging in… other adult activities."

Harry was stunned. "How?" he gasped, his eyes wide as saucers. "You've got the pictures?" Hermione nodded, pulling a small pile of moving pictures from behind her desk and handing them over to him. Looking through the first few, Harry had to sit down as they become more graphic. "The pictures…" Harry said faintly. "They've not been-"

"The editors thought the images were too graphic for the magazine and have withheld them from printing," Hermione responded quickly, trying to ease his concerns. "They have attached the picture of you and Ginny entering the hotel to their article though."

"How did they get pictures like this?" Harry barely whispered, his face white as he scanned the photos in his hands.

"I don't know yet," Hermione admitted. "I wanted to inform you of what was happening as soon as I could."

"Who else knows?" Harry asked, deliberately putting the pictures face down on the side table next to him.

"At the moment," Hermione replied. "You, me, Amos, the Witch Weekly editors and Rita Skeeter."

"What about the article, who's read it?"

"Just the same people," Hermione assured him. "The magazine goes to print this afternoon, hopefully we'll be able to gather evidence that proves you were not at that hotel last month and stop it reaching the public."

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily under his glasses, wondering how his day could take such a sudden turn for the worst. "The Minister doesn't know yet?" he asked, trying not to imagine what would happen when he found out.

"Amos is going to brief him when he gets in to the office," Hermione replied sympathetically.

"Don't let him see those photos, Hermione," Harry warned, glancing furtively at the stack of facedown photos. "No father should ever see their daughter like that."

Hermione nodded in agreement, images flashing across her mind that she was sure the Minister really shouldn't see. "It'll be alright, Harry," she said soothingly, moving over to retake her seat next to him.

Harry gave a grunted snort. "You think so," he replied, his mouth snarling slightly as he spoke. "Complete strangers are seeing me and my girlfriend in our most private moments and now not only are we going to look bad to the public but our political opponents are going to take any excuse they can to use this to discredit our administration."

Harry's eyes started to water slightly as he fought his emotions. "There are only two things that constitute my life right now," he said, brandishing two fingers. "And because of Skeeter, both of those are going to be destroyed in the next 24 hours." Harry placed his head in his hands. "I honestly can't believe this is happening."

"I'm going to fix this Harry," Hermione told him. "We're going to expose Skeeter long before Witch Weekly are ready to print."

Harry smiled wanly. "I hope you're right," he said. "I hope you're right."

---

Michael Corner scratched away on his assignment, reporting under the bright desk light on the latest press conference he'd attended. At the desk across from him the reporter from the Evening Prophet was just arriving, an entire hour later than himself. Suddenly he felt another presence. Someone was now standing over his shoulder.

"Michael, Hermione wants to see you in her office."

He turned from his work to see Demelza Robins standing there, looking rather exhausted. "Is this on or off the record?" he asked, his hand moving towards his dictation quill.

"Off," Demelza replied, halting Michael's hand.

"Alright, I'll be right there," he replied. Demelza nodded swiftly and swished out of the press room without another word, clearly very busy. Michael had to wonder what could have got the usually talkative secretary into such a dour mood but knew better than to question as he pulled his robe over his shoulders and followed at a brisk pace.

Demelza had already disappeared by the time Michael had started moving but Michael had long since memorised the way to Hermione's office, having met with her on numerous occasions when the Ministry wished to leak information through the press.

He got a few nods and smiles as he walked through the hallways which he returned with a genial expression. He was a popular figure in the ministry and he knew it, and it had done his career good on more than one occasion to have such a good relationship with the Ministry staff.

Reaching Hermione's office he found the door open and waiting for him. Nodding to Demelza, who barely spared him a glance as he passed, Michael entered the room.

"Maybe, one day you'll come visit me in my office," he said as he stepped into the room. "I'm starting to feel more like a puppy than a partner in this relationship."

Hermione looked up at him with a deadpan stare, a sheet of parchment lying before her that she'd clearly been studying. "You feel like a puppy?" she said sardonically, raising an eyebrow at him.

Michael shrugged, sticking his hands casually in his pocket. "Sometimes."

"Good," Hermione responded, standing up from her desk and briskly walking around it. "Could you close the door, please?"

Michael turned back and shut the door behind him. "You wanted to talk to me," he said, facing the room and noting Hermione fiddling with the drawers of her desk. "Is this a story you want leaked or do you just want some advice?"

"The advice thing," Hermione responded tightly. "Have you heard anything going on with Witch Weekly recently?"

"No," Michael replied. "But then again no one really does, they never have anything interesting news-wise so it's not worth the attention." He raise an eyebrow at her. "They have a story?"

"You haven't heard of an article written by journalist Rita Skeeter for Witch Weekly, have you?" Hermione pressed, trying to push past Michael's surprise.

"Rita Skeeter isn't a journalist," Michael corrected. "And no, I wouldn't have thought anything she printed to be any more than mindless gossip."

Hermione placed her copy of Witch Weekly on her desk and pushed it towards Michael at the relevant page. "Rita Skeeter has written this article reporting that our Communications Director Harry Potter is having an affair with the Minister's daughter Ginny Weasley and that they spent a weekend together a month ago at 'The Brewer'."

"'The Brewer'," Michael repeated warily. "The gambling hotel."

"Gambling, drugs, prostitution," Hermione agreed. "Pretty much every law we make is undoubtedly being broken there."

"This is what's bothering you?" Michael again raised an eyebrow at her. "Hermione, is this true?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Aurors confirm that Harry and Ginny spent the weekend at his place."

"So they are having an affair?" Michael pressed.

"They're having a relationship," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Neither of them have any commitment to anyone but each other."

"So what's the problem?" Michael asked. "This article gets published, you come see us in the press room and tell us everything you just told me. We report it and both Harry and Ginny are in the clear by the end of the day."

"It's not that simple," Hermione defended.

"But it is," Michael laughed. "Hermione, if you do absolutely nothing I swear that's how it'll pan out."

"There were pictures, Michael," Hermione cut in.

Michael's expression changed quickly. "But you said the story was false."

"It is," Hermione argued. "That's why I called you here. We have eye witness accounts contradicting the story so the pictures must have been falsified, and I don't know how to check because the pictures look perfectly real to me."

"Can I see them?" Michael asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

Hermione pursed her lips. "The photos are of a, eh, sensitive nature," Hermione hedged.

"What do you-oh," Michael caught on suddenly, his eyes going wide. He hesitated for a second, then continued. "I need to see them," he said firmly. "I can't help you if I can't see them."

Hermione hesitated, fingers fidgeting on her desk as she thought it through. With a sigh she shifted back around her desk, pulling open her draw and passing over the photos without looking at them.

Michael looked through the pictures carefully, trying his best to ignore the subjects of the photos in preference of any telltale sign of forgery. He lay them down on the desk and spread them out so he could examine each of them at the same time.

"They're real," he announced. Hermione looked up at him in shock. "Except that one," Michael amended, pointing to a photo of Harry and Ginny kissing passionately outside the entrance of the hotel, the 'The Brewer' sign clearly visible in the background.

"They're all real except one?" Hermione asked in astonishment. "If the other photos were real why would she bother fabricating another."

"She needed it," Michael said, still examining the photos. "Get over yourself and come look at these pictures."

Hermione felt a bit of resentment at the admonishment but rounded her desk anyway, trying to forget that she knew the people pictured before her.

"Look at these two," Michael said, pulling a couple of pictures away from the rest. "Apart from the fake these are the only pictures taken outside the Brewer. You can see two figures from a distance approaching the hotel from the motorway."

"Harry and Ginny," Hermione commented.

"I'm not so sure," Michael replied. "These photos have been taken from very far away, these people could be anyone."

"Maybe," Hermione responded. "But the other pictures are definitely them."

"Yes, that's true," Michael admitted. "But take a closer look." Hermione unwillingly bent closer to examine the photos. "Nothing in these photos gives any hint as to where they actually are," Michael said. "Nothing. They could have been in any one of thousands of hotels across the country, indeed, across the world. The only picture that has Harry and Ginny recognisably at 'The Brewer' is the fake one."

"Which is why she made it," Hermione caught on. "The other pictures aren't enough evidence to suggest that they were ever there."

"It's this picture that damns you," Michael agreed. "And therefore it is the weak spot of Skeeter's accusations." Michael leaned back slightly, satisfied with his success. "This is all off the record, isn't it."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, gathering up the pictures and shoving them back in her desk. "Now that we know the photo isn't real we should be able to cancel the article before it reaches printing this afternoon."

"You better hope it does," Michael warned. "Because if the article gets published and other people get hold of these pictures I'm going to have to report on it myself."

"The article won't get printed," Hermione denied. "We've got evidence that not only contradicts the article itself but brings its evidence under suspicion."

"No, you don't," Michael retorted. "You have my suspicion that the photo is fake, but I'm no expert. You need someone to prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that the picture is fabricated."

"And who can do that?" Hermione asked.

"No idea," Michael replied simply.

"Geez, you're helpful," Hermione told him with a glower.

"Hey," Michael said, holding his hands up as if to proclaim his innocence. "I have been very helpful. Not many journalists would have done this for you."

Hermione sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry," she said apologetically.

"So what do I get?" Michael asked expectantly, looking at her with a patient energy.

"What?" Hermione asked, taken aback.

"Come on, Hermione, you know how this works," Michael told her condescendingly. "I help you out in exchange for inside information to take back to my editor." Michael paused, fishing a hand into his pocket and pulling out a notebook, flipping it open and preparing to write. "Is there any truth that a Minimum Wage Amendment is being added to the trade bill?"

Hermione sighed. "No," she said bluntly.

"Hermione, this doesn't work if you don't give me something," Michael pressed warningly.

"I am giving you something," Hermione argued. "I'm giving you the information so you know not to waste your time. There is absolutely nothing to the rumour, so take my hint and focus on something else."

"Hermione," Demelza spoke from the doorway, having quickly knocked and entered. "The Minister would like to see you."

"Now?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer. Demelza nodded. "Okay, I'll be right there. Michael," she turned to him as she began to leave. "This conversation never happened."

"Understood," Michael replied. "It was nice seeing you!" He called humorously after her as she swept away, leaving him alone in her office.

---

"I know what you're saying, sir," Harry said, speaking into the small floo system sitting on his desk. "But if we make the taxes on foreign imports any higher we're going to start to lose votes for it, too many to still get the bill through."

"I know your predicament Harry and I'm trying to be helpful, but I can't in good faith support a bill that falls so short from the standards necessary," a voice replied from his floo-phone. "The current tax percentage will not have as much effect as the Ministry seems to believe, will not have the effect necessary to boost our own production."

"I know, I agree," Harry responded. "But we can't pass a bill at those rates. By passing this bill we'll be able to show some of those in opposition the benefit and necessity of even higher rates in the future. This is no final solution but it is a necessary and crucial step." Harry looked up, noticing Ron standing at his door, waiting patiently. "Look, there's a lot going on right now, can you please come in to the Ministry so we can talk face to face."

"I'm still not convinced," the voice replied obstinately.

"I know," Harry intervened. "But I need to talk to you properly and not just over the phone. Will you come in?" There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Alright, I'll be there sometime later today," the voice conceded. "Good luck with whatever's going on over there."

"Thanks David," Harry replied, relieved. There was a murmured goodbye before the connection was cut.

"David Woods?" Ron asked. "Warlock of the Wizengamot?"

"Yep," Harry nodded. "He's not convinced by our import taxes."

"Raising the import taxes by much more than what this bill recommends is bound to ruin our foreign relations," Ron argued.

"I know," Harry agreed, leaning back tiredly in his seat. "But Warlock Woods doesn't agree, and there are plenty of people in the Wizengamot ready to follow his lead, whichever way he may swing. Amos wanted me to speak to him since he knows me quite well, couldn't stress enough how close this vote is likely to be."

Ron nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed. "How are you doing?"

Harry opened his eyes and gazed back at Ron who had now stepped properly into his office. "You've heard."

"Amos told me and Neville after he informed the Minister," Ron told him. "I just wanted to let you know that I support you."

"You do?" Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. "I thought you'd be first in line to batter me with a beater's bat after hearing these allegations."

"That's a bit insulting," Ron argued. "You should know me better than that."

"You know about the photographs?" Harry asked. "Of me and your sister?"

Ron swallowed hard. "Yes, I do," he said slowly. "And while the idea of my sister in any kind of situation like that is not something I ever want to think about, I'm glad it's with you and not some good-for-nothing stranger I've never met."

"Really?" Harry replied, his tone both surprised and impressed.

"Yes," Ron said firmly, taking a seat across the desk from him. "You're my friend, Harry, my best friend. I know my sister isn't a kid anymore and that one day she'll undoubtedly have a family of her own that she'll only be able to get by doing things I don't want to think about." Ron stopped, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. "I know you'll take care of my sister no matter what, and that's all I could ever ask from you."

There was silence for a moment as Ron's words settled around the room. "Thank you, Ron," Harry said eventually. "To hear that from you… it really means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it," Ron dismissed, his ears turning red with embarrassment. There was a bit more silence.

"Did you just give me your blessing to marry your sister?" Harry said suddenly.

Ron jumped a bit before regaining his composure. "Not anytime soon, I'm not," he growled back which caused Harry to laugh, the atmosphere in the room lightening as the two friends relaxed in each others company.

"So how are you doing?" Ron asked, bringing Harry back to the point.

"Not bad," Harry said with a sigh. "Hermione's working to sort this out."

"Yeah?" Ron said.

"I trust her," Harry added.

"Me too," Ron agreed. "You talked to Ginny yet?"

Harry nodded. "Called her as soon as I finished with Hermione," he replied, snorting as he relived the conversation. "She was raging, ready to hunt Skeeter down and put her in a body bag. I managed to get her to calm down a bit but god only knows how long that'll last."

"Hermione will sort this out," Ron told him. "In the meantime we've still got work to do. Neville mentioned you'd made a draft for the Minister's speech tomorrow?"

"It's not quite finished," Harry said, searching through piles of parchment on his desk. "I'm still working on responses to any question on the trade bill but-"

He was cut off by a knock on his door. "Sorry to interrupt," Colin Creevey announced as Harry and Ron turned to him. "But the Minister wants to see you in his office."

"Thanks Colin," Ron said, standing up from his chair as he prepared to leave. "We'll talk about the speech when I get back."

"Actually," Colin spoke up again. "The Minister wants to see both of you."

Ron turned back to Harry expectantly. "Ready?"

"No," Harry responded glumly as he rose from his chair. "But who's ever ready for this?"

"That's the spirit," Ron said, slapping him on the back as he followed him out of his office.

"Harry," Cho said as she spotted him. "The Minister-"

"I'm on it," Harry cut her off as he strode swiftly away.

"Hey, you guys going to the Minister's office," Neville said as he bumped into them in the hallway, the three of them matching strides as they made their way forward.

"Yep, it'll be about the Skeeter thing," Ron said as he swerved slightly to avoid an overloaded assistant.

"I heard," Neville said. "How are you, Harry?"

"Fine," Harry said shortly, walking faster so the other two had to hurry slightly to keep up. They eventually reached the outer office, greeting the Minister's assistant, Daphne Greengrass, as they passed.

"Hey Blaise," Ron said as they walked towards the office door.

"Just go right in," said Blaise Zabini, Personal Aide to the Minister, gesturing to the open door where the sound of voices could be heard.

"He's confident?" Chief of Staff, Amos Diggory, was saying as the three men walked into the office.

"Supremely," Hermione replied. "And when you think about it the story makes complete sense."

"Maybe," Minister Arthur Weasley said, leaning against his magnificent desk as he surveyed the three newcomers, noting how his Communications Director, Harry Potter, was avoiding his gaze. "Hermione, for the sake of the boys why don't you repeat what you've just told us."

"Certainly sir," Hermione said promptly. Turning to the boys, she continued, "I spoke to Michael Corner of the Daily Prophet about the article."

"Off the record?" Ron asked seriously.

Hermione nodded. "He understood the difficulty of our position after learning about the photos, and after investigating said photos managed to ascertain that one of them was fake."

"Just one?" Neville asked in surprise.

"The other photos prove nothing about the truth behind the article," Amos explained. "There are photos with blurry figures outside the hotel and photos of Harry and Ginny. The only photo to conclusively link the couple to the building is the one we believe to be fraudulent."

"That's right," Hermione agreed.

"So we simply expose the fraudulent picture," Ron said.

"Expose the picture to the Witch Weekly editors, force them to retract the article and if they proceed with the article anyway we take them to court for slander, and surely win," Neville summarised simply. "Case closed."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "There was just one thing to take note of." Everyone in the room turned to give her their full attention. "Michael was of the belief that his word alone will not be enough to bury the article."

"What else would we need?" Harry asked quietly.

"Proof that the photo is fake," Hermione answered. "Personally I believe we have enough but I thought I should mention it."

Minister Weasley nodded. "Good work, Hermione," he said. "What we'll do is invite the editors over for a meeting; have Neville talk to them. In the mean time, Ron, you look up ways of proving the picture's a fake."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, moving to take his leave.

"Other than that lets just keep going as usual," Minister Weasley said. "Hopefully by tomorrow we'll have put this awful business behind us." Taking that as a dismissal the staff started to leave the office. "Harry, could you stick around for a moment?"

Harry waited patiently as the others exited the room, Ron giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder as he went. There was quiet in the office as Harry waited for the Minister to speak.

"Do you want to know how I feel about this?" the Minister said eventually, still leaning across his desk. "Furious."

Harry swallowed in spite of himself.

"To think that this could happen," Minister Weasley muttered, shaking his head angrily. "My own daughter." He stopped to reign in his emotions. "I'll tell you something, Harry," he said, looking straight at him with a piercing stare. "Rita Skeeter is going to regret this."

"Sir?" Harry blinked in surprise.

"Oh yes," the Minister spoke. "She took a step too far here. She invaded the privacy of my daughter in a way I would not expect of even my worst enemies." He took a breath to calm himself. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"You're sorry, sir?" Harry replied, unsure.

"That you have to go through all this," the Minister continued. "This is your life. These pictures Skeeter is trying to spread around are of moments that should be shared only between the two of you."

"I may be Ginny's father, Harry," he said. "But I know she's not the little princess I used to carry around in my arms when she got tired of walking. She's a grown woman now, and in an adult relationship with a good man. I'm proud of her."

"And I'm proud of you," he said sincerely.

"Proud of me, sir?" Harry replied.

Minister Weasley nodded. "The way you've handled this has been impressive," he said. "Most men would have been uncontrollable with rage or despair. But you've fought through that and are still working as hard as you can. So I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

"I'm glad," said the Minister. "Even now I still approve of your relationship, and I'm sure that won't change."

"Thank you," Harry said, turning to leave. Suddenly a thought struck him. "Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was just thinking and-" he stopped suddenly, colour flooding his cheeks. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just difficult for me to say this to you."

The Minister nodded. "I'll be as professional as I can," he promised.

"Okay, well, whenever Ginny and I have been, well, intimate," Harry paused slightly, averting his eyes from the equally uncomfortable minister. "It's been at either my place or hers, so I'm saying, for Skeeter to get pictures…" He trailed off.

"Bugs," The Minister caught on, looking worried. "I'll get Amos to organise a sweep of both your flats," he said, walking swiftly around the desk as he made his way to Amos' adjoining office. "That was well thought of Harry, I'll make sure we figure this out."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, taking his cue to leave. Upon exiting the office he was quickly accosted outside.

"Harry, I've got a message for you from Cho," Daphne called as he walked past her desk.

"What's the message?" Harry asked, stopping before her.

"She phoned to say that Warlock David Woods is waiting for you in Meeting Room 3," she said, handing over a pile of papers from her desk. "Is this about the trade bill?"

"Yes," Harry answered as he wandered away from her desk, examining the papers in his arms. "Hey Ron."

"Hey," Ron said matching his stride as they met in the hallway.

"You got any ideas yet?" Harry asked, still perusing the documents.

"Not yet," Ron admitted. "Photography isn't my strongest suit."

"Well, if you find anything, let me know," Harry said, stopping at the door to Meeting Room 3.

"Will do," Ron called back to him as he continued down the hallway. Harry took a deep breath, before opening the door.

"Warlock Woods, how are you?" Harry greeted, striding across the room to shake the older man's hand.

"I'm doing good, Harry, and please, call me David," Warlock Woods replied, gripping Harry's hand firmly with a genuine smile. "How are you today?"

"Busy," Harry answered honestly, gesturing for David to take a seat at the table across from him. "Everywhere I look I see people with nothing to do while I get drowned out by books and parchment."

David chuckled. "I know the feeling," he sympathised. "And I apologise for the inconvenience I am causing you, but I'm sure you understand my position here."

"I do, David, believe me," Harry replied. "I know this isn't what you wanted but we've got to do something, and this," he placed his hand over the documents he'd lain on the table before him, "is the best we can manage. This is what we can get through the Wizengamot."

David sighed and leaned back in his chair, clearly not thrilled to be having this conversation. "Well, it's not like I have anything to do today," he said offhandedly. Harry point blank ignored his attempt at wit. "Okay, Harry, just because we're friends, I'll hear you out."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied sincerely.

"Go on then," David said, crossing his arms. "Convince me."

---

"Good to see you," Neville greeted as he strode into the elaborate meeting room, three men already seated on the other side of the table. "My name is Neville Longbottom, I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff, and am I to understand that the three of you represent the editors of Witch Weekly."

"We are the editors of Witch Weekly," the man in the middle confirmed. "I'm Karl Myers, this is Daniel O'Leary and Blake Gibbons."

"Good to meet you," Neville said, reaching across to shake their hands.

"We're not a particularly big news company," Karl explained. "When we were told the Ministry wanted to speak to us we couldn't help but come ourselves."

"Well, let me be the first to properly welcome you to the Ministry," Neville said warmly, taking his seat across from them.

"Thank you," Karl replied.

"Now, before we start I've just got one question," Neville said, looking through the papers before him. "You're all male."

Daniel and Blake seemed taken aback by the comment but Karl took it in his stride with a laugh. "You mean what are three men doing editing for a magazine aimed towards the demographic of teenage girls?" Neville shrugged in response.

"We don't make up the stories, Mr Longbottom," Karl chuckled. "We just edit them. I swear I know no more about makeup tips and celebrity break-ups than you do." Daniel and Blake laughed a bit at that.

"Alright, now that we've got that cleared up," Neville spoke, bringing silence to the room. "To the matter at hand. I'm sure you're aware of why we called you here."

"The Potter-Weasley story," Karl said knowingly. "We thought as much."

"I'm asking you not to print the story," Neville continued.

"And why'd we do that," Gibbons retorted heatedly. "Just because you're in government doesn't give you the right to police what we publish. Last I checked we had freedom of speech in this country."

"Yes, you do," Neville continued. "But in this case we believe some of the evidence used to convince you of the truth of this article has been fabricated."

"Of course," Gibbons scoffed.

"Blake," Karl said warningly, quieting his colleague with a stern look. He turned back to Neville. "The pictures?"

Neville nodded. "We have reason to believe that one of the photos has been fabricated in order to build a story."

"One of the pictures?" Karl questioned. "We've got the photos here if you want to-"

"No, no," Neville cut in, holding a hand out to prevent Daniel from pulling the photos out of the folder sitting before him. "I don't need to see them. I'm assuming you've all seen the pictures yourselves." They all nodded. "I'm talking about the picture of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley under the sign for 'The Brewer'."

"If it were fake, that would call into question the truth behind the story," Karl agreed. "But it would not be enough to outright say the story is false."

"We have sworn statements from the Auror office that at the time of the alleged event both Harry and Ginny were accounted for and were not at 'The Brewer'," Neville continued. "The story is fake."

"You have evidence," Daniel O'Leary spoke up for the first time. "Can you prove the photo is fake?"

"We've had a reporter look at it and he is certain-" Neville began.

"A reporter," Gibbons cut in. "A reporter can not reliably disprove the authenticity of anything, Mr Longbottom," he said snidely.

"I'm afraid my colleague is correct," Karl said solemnly. "I cannot pull the story based on the word of one reporter."

"Karl, you understand that if you print this story you open yourself up to being sued for slander," Neville warned. "We both know this story is false and all we have to do is prove the picture is fake to completely destroy Skeeter's legitimacy."

"I just told you, Mr Longbottom," Karl said tiredly. "You haven't given me enough to pull the story. I'd love to help you out but that is the truth of the matter." He stood up with a sigh, O'Leary and Gibbons following him.

"If you do find evidence that the photo's fake, tell us," Karl said, picking up his briefcase. "We'll print a retraction and our front page of the next issue will feature a sincere apology to all those involved and a notice of the disemployment of Rita Skeeter from our magazine."

"Karl, don't do this," Neville said, standing up. "Witch Weekly has the most incredible approval ratings of any publication. You guys are good at what you do. If you print this story your reputation will be ruined when the truth comes out."

"Mr Longbottom," Karl said with a sense of finality. "We've told you what we can do and what we can't. If you find proof, then tell us. We're going back to the office to oversee the printing, which will begin as soon as we return. This article is going to print." Karl made his way to the door, holding it open for O'Leary and Gibbons to walk through first.

"You're making a big mistake," Neville warned their retreating backs. "You'll be sorry you did this come tomorrow."

Karl sighed as he turned back to face Neville, O'Leary and Gibbons already out in the corridor. "Then let me be the first to apologise."

---

"It's not good enough," David said vehemently, leaning over the table in the manner of one in an engrossing debate. "The import tax needs to raise by another three percentage points to even be in the range of what is necessary."

"I'm not arguing that, David, I'm not," Harry replied. "I'm just saying if we raise the import tax any higher than already specified we won't win the vote. Our Political Strategy Director has looked into this; with your support and the support of your followers we have 152 of the 299 votes."

"That's just another argument for the need to raise the income tax," David argued. "You need my support or you won't win."

"If we raise the tax we lose much more than we gain," Harry retorted. "McCain, Walker, Tennant; they've all agreed to support the bill as long as the import tax does not go up any further. We need these guys and if I was able to negotiate them up I would have done so already."

Harry took a breath. Gently sipping from the glass of water Cho had brought in for him half an hour ago he felt a slight relief as the water cooled his throat.

"This is not what we want," Harry admitted quietly, turning his gaze back to David. "We can't get what we want. We can get this."

"So it's not a question of what we should do, but of what we can do," David said, understanding Harry's position.

"I knew getting you to agree to this would be difficult," Harry said. "But we need this trade bill, and not just for higher import taxes. There is so much good to be done by this bill and for the last month we've been working around the clock to get it through. This is the only way we can do that."

"You're a smooth talker," David admitted after a moments pause, leaning back in his chair wearily as his body reminded him of his age. "You remind me of myself when I was young," he continued. "Except I was a rabble-rouser yelling at the brick wall of an administration accountable to nobody, you are able to make a difference."

David smiled as he took in Harry's earnest expression. "Okay, I'll support this bill," he said.

"You will?" Harry asked eagerly.

David chuckled. "You've convinced me," he joked. "I want higher import taxes, don't forget that," he said, becoming serious again. "But you are right, there is a lot of good that can be done by this bill, and I want to see to it that it passes."

"Thank you, David," Harry said gratefully, standing up and shaking his hand.

"Thank you," David replied, pulling himself stiffly back to his feet. "This has been a most entertaining discussion," he continued, limping slightly as he started walking. "I'll let myself out, I imagine you still have a lot of work to do."

"That I do," Harry smiled. "Thank you, sir."

David smiled as he reached the doorway and a second later he was gone.

Harry sighed as he slumped back into his chair. He took another sip of water before dipping his fingers in, wiping at his tired eyes in a vain effort to wake himself up.

"Harry?" Cho asked from the doorway as she waited for him expectantly.

"Yes, Cho," Harry said as he strode over to her, handing over the files he'd been carrying around. "File those away again and I'll talk to you when I get back to the office. I'm just going to tell Amos it's done."

Cho nodded before walking briskly away, leaving Harry alone in the entrance of the meeting room. He started walking in the opposite direction, back in the direction of the Minister's office. He pulled up short, however, instead turning towards the office of the Chief of Staff, passing his assistant Luna Lovegood with a brief wave.

"Hey, Amos, I just wanted to tell you I've got Woods on board," Harry said, noticing that Amos was not alone. Standing across the desk from him was Neville. "Is there something I should know about?"

"Why don't you close the door," Amos encouraged, gesturing for him to join them. "Neville has just got back from meeting with the Witch Weekly editors."

"How did it go?" Harry asked, walking closer to the desk after assuring their privacy.

"Not good," Neville admitted. "Michael was right, they wanted proof the photo was a fake."

"Right," Harry said, taking in the news. "So what now?"

"Printing is going to begin once the editors return to their office," Neville said. "This is going to be reported whether we like it or not."

"Has Ron had any luck with finding a proof?" Amos asked.

Neville shook his head. "It's a well guarded secret among photographers, and we don't know any we can trust."

"We'll keep looking," Amos comforted them. "Luna!"

A second later the office door opened again and Luna Lovegood stuck her head in. "Yes Mr Diggory?"

"Get Ron and Hermione and get them to come to the Minister's office," Amos commanded.

"Of course, Mr Diggory," Luna accepted, leaving immediately to do her job.

"We've got time to sort this out," Amos said calmly to Harry and Neville. "We know it's going to print so there is no need to run around like headless chickens. We'll just need to prepare for this when it breaks tomorrow morning."

Amos pushed himself up from his desk and made his way to the door linking his office to the Minister's. "Come with me."

Minister Weasley was already up and pacing as they entered the room, reading over some parchment with his glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"I've been informed you guys are meeting with me," he said as he turned to face them. "I think I can hazard a guess as to what happened."

"They want proof," Amos said. "And we don't have it."

"I would've thought that even the notion they might be open to a law suit would have shut these guys down," the Minister continued. "Neville, did you tell them we could sue?"

"Yes, sir," Neville replied.

"Vociferously."

"Yes, sir."

"And they're printing the story anyway," the Minister complained. "Can we just sue them now? Do we have to wait until they've actually published the article?"

"What's happened?" Ron asked as he strode into the room, Hermione hot on his heels.

"The Minister for Magic is suing Witch Weekly," Amos said sardonically.

"I don't believe it," Ron complained. "They're printing it?"

"They wanted proof," Amos repeated.

"So Michael was right," Hermione sighed.

"Yes, yes," the Minster spoke over them. "Well, let's stop worrying about the article and start talking about how to prove the picture isn't real. Ron?"

"Ways of exposing counterfeit photographs are a well kept secret in the photography community," Ron said with a grimace. "Everyone I've talked to won't tell me anything."

"We've got people taking pictures around here all the time, can we not just ask them?" The Minister asked.

"I've tried," Ron sighed. "These people aren't Ministry employees though so they do not feel comfortable divulging that piece of information."

The Minister sighed. "Well, keep looking Ron, maybe we'll get lucky. Neville, you help him," the Minister ordered. "Hermione, talk to Michael again, see if he can help."

Everyone agreed to their jobs and left through the main door. "Harry, come with me," Amos said, instead leading Harry back into his office and closing the door behind them. "I just want to let you know how the security investigation is going."

"Have they found anything?" Harry asked.

"No electronic bugs," Amos said, shaking his head. "They've searched through both yours and Ginny's places and found nothing of a magical nature either. The thought is that she may have intruded in person."

"You mean she was there, in our homes?" Harry gasped, a horrified expression crossing his face.

"They're looking at a few possibilities," Amos continued. "Polyjuice is out but we believe she may have had the use of an invisibility cloak."

"And if she doesn't?" Harry asked.

"Disillusionment Charms, powerful Notice-Me-Not wards," Amos listed. "The truth is that our options become a lot less likely very quickly."

"Right," Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"When was the last time you got any sleep?" Amos asked, taking in his exhausted appearance.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled. "Just before the New York thing."

"Yesterday morning?!"

"That was yesterday?" Harry groaned. "It's all just seemed to merge into one endless excruciating torture."

"Harry, don't do this to yourself," Amos said.

"What, I'm fine," Harry argued unconvincingly.

"You're not fine," Amos argued back. "Look, take this as a direct order from this office. Go back to your desk, lock your door and get some sleep."

"But I've got so much-" Harry started.

"Sleep!" Amos shouted. "That's an order."

Harry stood still for a moment, tired brain still trying to follow what just happened. "Yes sir," he said finally, walking to the door. "Thank you, sir."

Harry stopped outside the office door, taking a moment to breath in a deep breath as he leaned against the door and rested his eyes.

"You feeling okay?"

Harry looked over to where the question came from to see Luna staring up at him, her comically large glasses magnifying her crystal blue eyes.

"I know Mr Diggory can be difficult," she offered in consolation, clearly misreading the situation.

"Thanks for the support, Luna," Harry thanked her with a tired smile. "Amos hasn't been a problem. It's just… I've had a very bad day."

Luna smiled sympathetically at him. "Well cheer up," she chirped happily. "I'm sure things will get better soon."

Harry frowned, finding a quality to her words that suggested a hidden meaning, one he was not yet partial to. Glancing at Luna, who had returned to her work, one last time, Harry made his way down the hallway and back towards his office, not paying much attention to what was going on around him.

As he got within ten meters of his office door his vision was suddenly obscured by a curtain of red as he felt someone rush into him. Harry caught his mystery assailant on instinct, wrapping his arms around them to cushion the blow. Slowly, he was able to bring himself back to the present.

"Ginny?" Ginny pulled back slightly to see his face, wiping at her eyes as she did so, revealing them to be suspiciously wet. Knowing better than to comment on her tears Harry instead kissed her on the forehead and held her close. "Ginny, are you okay?"

Ginny nodded, seeming to be pulling herself together after her surprise moment of weakness. "Yeah," she sniffed slightly. "Sorry, I've just been so worried all day since you called, I'm just glad to see you."

Harry nodded. "I understand, I feel the same," Harry said. "It's been a pretty awful day for me here, I'm just glad to be able to talk to you." Harry glanced around, realising they were still in the middle of the corridor. "Why don't we go into my office?"

Ginny nodded in agreement, slipping round to his side so she could keep an arm around him as they walked. "Cho, can you hold my calls for me, please?"

"Of course," Cho responded as Harry entered his office and shut the door behind them.

"I like your office," Ginny commented as she wandered inside, looking out of his enchanted window. "It looks nice out of your window, Ron's office had thunder and lightning."

"Well that's because Ron's pissed off the Department for Magical Maintenance," Harry responded, closing the blinds along the glass wall of his office. "He's been having thunder storms continuously for nearly a month now."

"Sounds like Ron," Ginny said lightly, settling down on the sofa in the office.

Harry moved over to sit next to her, taking her hands in his as he spoke. "How are you doing with this?"

Ginny looked from their clasped hands to Harry's face. "I'm doing okay," she said softly. "When you told me what had happened I was ready to burn the place down, I had to take my lunch break just to be able to steady my hands enough to make potions. I'm sure my colleagues are all aware that something is going on." She rubbed her fingers absentmindedly across Harry's hands as she spoke.

"But I'm better now," she continued, her voice firmer and more confident. "I know that the smartest people in this country are working to fix this out."

"You know we failed," Harry replied glumly, dipping his head in shame.

"I know that the article is still going to be printed," Ginny corrected him. "And I know that when it gets released the lot of you will be there to shoot them down faster than a Nimbus 2000."

"You have a lot of faith in us," Harry said, his tone a clear indication of what he thought of that.

"Yes, I do," Ginny said firmly, head held high. "And you should too. I don't know much about Skeeter, but I do know she has just made the biggest mistake of her life."

Harry looked at his fiery girlfriend with a strange sense of pride. It still amazed him, even after almost two years together, the strength of character his girlfriend held, and it was times like these that he truly appreciated the fire that drove her.

"Nimbus 2000?" Harry raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You couldn't have picked a broom from this century."

Ginny huffed slightly, although her act was ruined by the smile spreading across her face. "It was something I read in a magazine when I was like five," she defended.

"The Nimbus 2000 racing broom was released when you were nine," Harry pointed out.

"You know, you're really lucky you have this job," Ginny commented. "Because I'm pretty sure there is no other job in the world where that piece of trivia would be at all useful."

Harry chuckled, cupping her head in his hand and kissing her. He felt her sink in to the kiss as he did, encouraging him to deepen it further, wrapping his free arm around her to pull her closer.

"Oh, god, I did not want to see that."

Harry pulled away from Ginny in annoyance as he found Ron standing in his office doorway, curious staff members peering in behind him as he covered his eyes.

"Hey Ron, heard of knocking?" Harry asked, somewhat amused by Ron's reaction despite himself.

"Since when did we ever knock around here?" Ron responded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Since I spent time in here with my girlfriend with the door closed and the blinds shut," Harry retorted, moving around behind his desk as they settled back into work mode.

"You've got the Luton speech ready for me?" Ron asked, standing at the desk while Harry sifted through his papers.

"Yeah, it's just underneath all this stuff from today," Harry mumbled as he continued to root around his desk. "I'll take you through the bullet points."

"That can wait till morning," Ron dismissed.

"I doubt it," Harry replied, finally finding his speech. "The Minister's speaking at two, and I've got a feeling tomorrow morning is going to be busy enough as it is."

Before Ron had a chance to answer there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah," Harry called, signalling for the person to enter. Colin Creevey stepped through the door, immediately turning to Ron.

"Here's the HR paper you need to sign," he said, handing Ron a clipboard with a document attached. Ron pulled a quill out of his pocket and with practiced ease scrawled his name along the dotted line.

"There's something bothering me," Ron muttered to himself, ignoring Colin's gestures to hand the forms back. "Something that I should really be seeing."

"Ron," Colin spoke up, slightly inpatient.

Ron turned to him, eyes seeming to look right past him for a moment. "Of course," Ron mumbled absently, handing back the forms and slipping his quill into his pocket. "Thank you, Colin."

Colin nodded before turning away, opening the door to leave.

"Colin, wait," Ron said suddenly, a thought seemingly on the very tip of his tongue as he gestured for Colin to come back in. "When you were younger, did you… do photography?"

The question caught Harry's attention immediately while Ginny seemed simply confused by her brother's train of thought.

"Umm, yeah, when I was younger," Colin replied, slightly thrown by the question. "I haven't picked up a camera for ten, fifteen years."

"Do you know a test for proving the authenticity of a photograph?" Harry asked earnestly, leaning forward in his seat.

"I know the old way," Colin said. "But photography has come such a long way, my tests won't work anymore."

"Do you know how we might get in touch with a photographer who might know?" Ron asked. "I've been calling all the photography firms established in the UK and they won't say anything."

"Photographers are really weird about their secrets," Colin admitted. "When I was younger even I was like that. What you really need is more of a part-time photographer, someone who isn't as indoctrinated as the others."

"And you know where to find them?" Harry asked.

"Art studios," Colin answered. "In a lot of art studios they employ people who focus on multiple forms of art, including photography."

"Thanks Colin, that will be all," Ron said, noticing the excitement in Harry's eyes. The door had barely shut behind Colin before Harry burst.

"This is perfect," he said, absolutely ecstatic. "I've got a friend who does sketches and drawings and stuff; he works at an art studio in Diagon Alley." Harry jumped up from his seat and yanked on his outdoor robe. "I'll go see him straight away."

"Harry, stop," Ron said, surprising Harry by standing between him and the door. "Hold up."

"Ron, what are you doing?" Harry frowned, still halfway through putting his robe on.

"Harry, it's nearly eight," Ron said, pointing Harry's attention to the clock on the wall. "This guy won't still be working right now. Call him, and arrange a meeting tomorrow morning, before the press conference."

"That'll be really early," Harry warned.

"Tell him it's important," Ron replied. "In the meantime, you take Ginny and go get something to eat. Go back to your place, watch a movie, do whatever it is you do together and… relax."

"But what about the Luton speech?" Harry asked, picking the speech up off his desk.

"I'll take it from here," Ron said confidently, holding his hand out for the speech. Harry hesitated for a second before handing it over.

"Thanks Ron," he said gratefully. "I really appreciate this."

"Don't mention it," Ron replied, slipping the speech under his arm. "Now, call your guy and leave. I'll see you in the morning."

---

The Minister removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes tiredly, feeling the stress of the hectic day and dreading the eventual conversation he was going to have to have with his wife when he finally got home.

"Do the aurors think there is ample reason to conduct a search?" he asked tiredly.

Amos nodded. "This is about the security of the Minister's family, they hardly need any evidence at all," he said calmly.

The Minister sighed, the burden of running the country seeming to settle on his shoulders even more than usual. He'd always assumed he wasn't cut out for this sort of political life, much preferring his old job as Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office, and he wouldn't have even thought of holding the position of Minister had Amos not convinced him to run.

"Do the aurors think they'll find anything?" The Minister asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Amos replied. "Even if they find an invisibility cloak it won't necessarily prove her guilt."

"But it will be enough to warrant interrogation under veritaserum," the Minister caught on. "Either way, the trouble is if she is using some other form of eavesdropping that we haven't checked for."

"A raid will be looking for more than just invisibility cloaks," Amos commented. "If she is using any artefact to spy on people we'll find it." He started to make his way towards the door. "Besides, I'm sure there is plenty Skeeter has been hiding to begin with."

The Minister nodded in agreement, noticing Blaise open the door for Ron to walk through. "Keep the raid until the morning press conference," the Minister said. "I don't want Skeeter to get any whiff of this before it all comes crashing down around her."

"Yes, Minister," Amos said, walking to his office and closing the door behind him.

"Hey Ron, what have you got for me?" The Minister asked, slipping his glasses back on and peering up at his Political Strategy Director.

"I've got the Luton speech from Harry's desk," he replied, placing the parchment down on the Minister's desk. "I've highlighted the things I think people are most likely to ask but it would be a good idea to at least skim over the other sections as well."

"I'll look over it," the Minister promised. "Is Harry still here?"

"No sir," Ron replied. "I sent him home."

"You sent him home," the Minister repeated, looking up at him again. "You realise you don't have the authority to do that?"

"Yes," Ron replied, a slightly belligerent edge to his voice.

The Minister watched him for a second. "Good job," he said, bringing a slight sigh of relief from Ron. "Amos said Harry's been working himself into the ground lately, he could use a night off."

"Ginny's with him," Ron commented.

The Minister paused for a second, looking back up at Ron. "She is?"

"She came round right after work," Ron informed him. "She waited in my office while Harry was meeting with Warlock Woods."

"Right," the Minister mumbled to himself, his gaze now seeming to go past Ron and into the air behind him. "Right."

"Sir," Ron said, a slightly strained look coming over his features. "What I'm about to say is quite frank," he continued. "And I'm saying this not as your employee, but as your son." Arthur nodded, slightly concerned as to where this was going. "Do you have a problem with Harry?"

Arthur stared at him, stunned. "What?" he spluttered. "I have been continuously supportive of Harry in everything he's done. What could possibly have made you think that I've got a problem with him?"

Ron seemed to hesitate, as though not sure how to express what he was thinking. Eventually he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope.

"I took these from Hermione's office," Ron admitted, stepping forward and placing the envelope on Arthur's desk. From where Arthur was sitting he could spot the edges of a couple of the photographs inside.

"Why have you got them?" Arthur said, throat drying up, eyes fixed on the envelope.

"Harry's my best friend," Ron said sincerely. "And I like that he's going out with Ginny. I think he's good for her, and she's good for him." He paused, looking down at the floor to find the courage for what he was going to say next.

"I'm okay with them," he continued. "I'm okay enough to stand beside them even when I carry pictures of them that I've never wanted to see in my pocket. What I'm asking is, can you?"

"Ron," Arthur said softly.

"Can you support Harry with the evidence of what he does with your daughter in the palm of your hand?" Ron spoke again, his voice louder than before. "Can you still show him the respect he deserves when you know his most private moments are a mere glance away?"

"Ron," Arthur said again, loud enough to halt his sons' rant. The two of them stood there for a minute, the desk sitting between them with the white envelope lying innocently upon it.

Arthur sighed. He walked around his desk and placed a hand upon his sons' shoulder, suddenly reminded of just how tall his son had grown.

"Did you know that I knew Harry's father?" Arthur said, surprising Ron. "I did, years ago, before he died." Arthur took a breath before beginning his story.

"I worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, a department that was never held in high esteem by the Ministry at the time. We had a single office for two people, me and a guy named Perkins, who made up the rest of the department. As you can remember from your childhood we were often completely overrun."

"The department itself was located on level 2 of the Ministry building and to access the area one had to pass the Auror Office, the department for which Harry's dad, James Potter, worked."

"James Potter was one of the kindest, most compassionate men I had ever met," Arthur reminisced, his eyes misty. "Harry looks just like him; except for his eyes, he has his mothers eyes."

Arthur's own eyes cleared as he fixed them firmly on his son. "I got to know James well in the months before he died and in the last couple of years I've got to know Harry too. I can safely say that I trust him with my life. And more importantly, I can trust him with my daughter's life."

"Careful dad," Ron said, smiling slightly. "It sounds as though you're planning on marrying her off to him."

"I wouldn't oppose them if they did get married," Arthur announced honestly. "Your mother on the other hand would have a fit."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, and then she'd go crazy with wedding preparations and asking for grandkids." Arthur chuckled along with him. "You going home tonight or are you staying in the office?"

"I think I'll read over the Luton speech and then head home," Arthur said. "I've still got to talk about all this with your mother, and I'd rather not have to wake her up to tell her."

"Does mum know about Harry and Ginny?" Ron asked.

"She's known for almost as long as I've known," Arthur snorted. "I can never keep anything from that woman. The concern I have is that she hasn't actually met Harry yet, I fear she may get the wrong idea about him."

There was a comfortable silence between them as they came to peace with the situation, the discussion having quelled the fears of both men.

"But for now we still have work," the Minister said, business like again. "Take these photos," he handed Ron the envelope he'd picked up from his desk, "and get them safely back to Hermione's office."

"Yes sir," Ron nodded, taking the envelope and making his way towards the door. "Thank you, dad," he said, having paused on his way out.

"Thank you, Ron," the Minister replied. "I'll see you tomorrow, son."

Ron smiled back at him and made the rest of the journey to the door, leaving the Minister alone in his office. The Minister sighed slightly at the peace he was finally able to achieve, having had people coming and going from his office all day long. He slowly wandered around his desk and settled himself back down in his chair, pulling the parchments Ron had left towards him. Relighting one of the candles by his desk he began to read.

---

"You won't believe the strings I'm pulling to get you in this early," Dean Thomas said, passing his wand over the door to his art studio. Behind them stood a grumpy man with sandy hair called Seamus Finnegan, who apparently needed to be there as it was company policy to have at least two members of staff present at all times.

"I know Dean, and I'm grateful," Harry replied, following Dean inside the studio, the lights flickering on as they entered. "And if it was possible to see you during normal business hours I would."

"It worries me that you even have to see me during business hours," Dean replied, looking at Harry worriedly. "Something big's happening, isn't it?"

"Only if you can't help me," Harry replied, hand reaching into his pocket. "I've got a picture that we believe to be fake, one that is the basis of an article set to be published this morning which will cause a lot of people a lot of trouble."

"Can I see it?" Dean asked, eyes glancing to the hand in Harry's pocket.

Harry nodded, pulling the photo out and handing it to Dean.

"Whoa, Harry," Dean said, somewhere between shocked and impressed. "That is one hot bird you've got there, how'd you manage to trick her into dating you?"

Harry shrugged, though a grin was tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I reckon it was just my natural charm," he joked, causing Dean to snort. Behind him Harry noticed Seamus seemed to have become much more interested in their conversation.

"You need to prove this is fake," Dean repeated, waving the picture in the air. "Seamus is your guy, he does a bit of photography for us here."

Seamus walked over immediately, picking the photo out of Dean's hand neatly, all trace of his earlier grumpiness present. "She's good," he whistled appreciatively. "I think I recognise her from somewhere."

"She's the Minister's daughter," Harry admitted.

As one Dean and Seamus turned to stare at him, each looking absolutely gobsmacked. "You need us to prove that you aren't snogging the Minister's daughter behind his back?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Actually I need you to prove that the picture wasn't taken at 'The Brewer', as the sign says," Harry corrected. "I am actually snogging the Minister's daughter behind his back."

The silence in the room was broken by Seamus's hearty laughter, echoing around the spacious room. "Unbelievable, Dean, why haven't I met this guy sooner," Seamus chortled, clapping him on the back.

"You're dating the Minister's daughter?" Dean asked, shellshocked.

"Yes, look," Harry said nervously, glancing at his watch. "I don't really have a lot of time."

"No problem," Seamus said happily, walking over to a weird looking device on one of the desks, placing the photo on top of it. "This should only take a moment."

Harry and Dean wandered closer as Seamus continued his work. Seconds later the machine started to glow and emit a low humming noise as it worked. The light didn't pierce the photograph. Instead a thin silvery mist rose around the top left of the picture.

"You were right, the photo's fake," Seamus said, moving his wand around to point at the picture. "This silver mist shows that the parchment quality changes between these areas, essentially showing where the merge has occurred. This main bit is a picture of you and your girlfriend, but this bit in the top left is another picture entirely, woven into the original." Seamus paused his examination. "It's a bit sloppily done to be honest, whoever did this was either rushed or incompetent. Either way, I think you've got what you're looking for."

"Not quite," Harry said, placing a hand back into his pocket. "I need you to sign this memo confirming that this photo is false."

Seamus looked at him with a slightly amused expression. "You owe me one," he said, signing his name at the bottom of the memo.

"I know," Harry said, slipping both the memo and the photo back into his pocket. "How about I buy you a drink sometime."

Seamus barked out a laugh. "Now your talking," he said, grinning like a loon as he watched Harry rush away. "What a lad."

---

The press room was starting to fill up as 9 o'clock drew near, reporters from various newspapers and magazines finding the seats they'd sat in many times before for conferences just like this.

One witch, standing tall in ridiculously high heels waving an emerald quill high in the air, had been in the business for longer than most. Rita Skeeter had a reputation for exposing politician's and celebrity's deepest and darkest secrets and she arrived in the wake of yet another success.

Demelza Robins approached her quickly as she made her way to the press room, cutting her off smartly. "Miss Skeeter, if you could just follow me," she announced, walking off without even checking to see if she was being followed.

Skeeter followed her lead, smiling smugly as she anticipated the meeting she was about to have. Reaching the end of her journey she was unsurprised to find herself in the office of Harry Potter.

"Miss Skeeter to see you," Demelza announced as Harry met her at the door, nodding to her and relieving her of her duty before turning to the veteran reporter.

"Miss Skeeter, please come in," he said, holding the door open for her. She gave him an acidic smile as she waltzed past him, taking a seat without invitation. Harry closed the door behind her, giving Skeeter a resentful look behind her back before walking around and taking the seat behind his desk.

"I believe we've got a problem, Miss Skeeter," Harry said formally, addressing the reporter with a serious expression.

"No no, Harry," Skeeter crooned, reclining luxuriously in her seat. "You have the problem, not I." She studied him with an amused glimmer in her eyes. "What is it you wish to achieve with this meeting, hmm? Are you bribing me, threatening me, pleading with me?" Skeeter chuckled. "Either way, it's too late. This morning thousands of readers will open up their copies of Witch Weekly and find out a scandalous affair taking place within their own Ministry. I can't imagine you'll be in this office much longer, hmm Harry."

Harry stared at her, anger and hate boiling beneath the surface as he listened to his tormenter, a woman with no cause but to ruin his career. "Let's watch Hermione speak," he said suddenly, turning away from Skeeter and turning on his TV, perched upon a shelf behind his desk. Skeeter seemed somewhat thrown by this but, as Hermione walked on screen, she turned her attention to the press conference.

"Good morning, I'm Hermione Granger and this is the regular morning press conference," Hermione started off, easily flowing through the introduction she used every morning. "I've just got the one major news item this morning so I'll start with that then we'll move onto questions." She adjusted her glasses and began to read from a sheet before her.

"It has been reported in this week's edition of Witch Weekly that Communications Director Harry Potter and the Minister's daughter Ginny Weasley were seen spending a weekend nearly a month ago at 'The Brewer', a hotel with a reputation for reports of drug use, illegal gambling and prostitution." There was a murmur of voices from the journalists in the crowd but Hermione pressed on.

"The Auror office has been able to account for both of the people in question and have assured us that neither of them were at this hotel at the time specified," Hermione continued. "Photos presented as evidence for the story have been investigated and one of them, which stood as the only evidence that the couple were ever at the hotel, has been found to be fake, as vouched for by experienced photographer Seamus Finnegan."

As she finished the line there was clamouring from the audience, each wanting their question answered first. "Dennis," Hermione called, pointing to someone in the crowd.

"Considering the accusations made against people close to the Minister, is Rita Skeeter, that is, the author of the article, going to be having action taken against her by the Ministry," a voice from off camera spoke as the remaining reporters went quiet, waiting for an answer.

"Naturally for falsifying evidence and the incendiary nature of her article, Miss Skeeter has opened herself up to a law suit from either Harry or Ginny if they so wished to take this to court," Hermione stated, well prepared for the question. "Due to the photos in question there has been reason to believe Miss Skeeter has intruded on private property, either personally or through magical and muggle surveillance techniques, and as such the auror department are at this very moment conducting a raid on her home and workplace. Needless to say should evidence of that sort be found Miss Skeeter could find herself set for jail time."

"I think we've heard enough, eh Rita," Harry said smugly as he switched the TV off, turning to face a now very pale faced Rita Skeeter. "Let's hope you don't have anything hidden away that might implicate you."

"No," Skeeter breathed desperately, eyes wide. "This can't be happening."

"Believe it, it's happening," Harry grinned back, taking entirely too much pleasure in mocking her.

"I can't believe you," Skeeter gasped. "How could you do this? This'll ruin me, my life's work down the drain. How could you be such a cold hearted monster?"

Harry's smile dropped off his face as he listened to what she was saying. "Me, a monster," he laughed, although there was no humour in his stone cold voice. "Try looking in a mirror. Me, I'm a politician, and you don't get to where I am without crushing a few people along the way."

Skeeter gulped, a hand halfway up to her mouth in shock. Harry calmed slightly at her reaction, remembering he still had to be professional.

"There are guards outside this office waiting for us to finish this meeting," Harry said calmly, watching Skeeter with no sympathy. "There's two ways this can go. Either you walk out this room and go with them quietly as they take you to a holding cell to await your fate, or you can try to run and have attempting to resist arrest added to your list of charges."

Harry stopped and simply stared at Skeeter, not once flinching as he saw the previously confident woman fall apart before his eyes. They sat there for several minutes before Harry realised Skeeter wasn't going to be moving. He picked up the phone, Skeeter's dead eyes not even acknowledging the motion. "Send them in."

A second later two strong looking men strode through the door, each bearing the crest of the Auror Corps on their chests. They strode in business like, restraining Skeeter with magical binding handcuffs before dragging her from the room, Skeeter not even trying to fight against them.

Through all this Harry kept his cold stare, a look that, one auror would later tell his wife, for the first time made him fear a politician.

---

"Annabelle," Hermione called, taking another question in her stride.

"Hermione, how is the Minister taking the news his daughter is engaging in adult activities with a member of his own staff?" the dark haired reporter asked, notebook at the ready to note down her answer.

"The Minister is well aware that Harry and Ginny are in a relationship and has been for some time now," Hermione informed the room. "As this pertains to the private life of the Minister's family I'm not at liberty to go any further."

"Is this going to affect the Minister's professional relationship with Harry Potter?" Annabelle questioned again before anyone else could cut in.

"The Minister respects Harry Potter both for his abilities and personality," Hermione replied. "This was true before he knew about the relationship and it was true after as well."

"But surely the reported pictures will change that?" Annabelle said again, much to the displeasure of her colleagues.

"Annabelle, that is your third consecutive question," Hermione said sternly. "If you would please remain quiet and allow your colleagues to speak we could move things forward."

"Hermione," the crowd clamoured as Annabelle sat back down.

"Clint," Hermione gestured to the front row.

"Hermione, could you perhaps answer that last question?" Clint said calmly, gesturing vaguely behind him to where Annabelle was seated.

"The Minister makes it a duty to remain out of his children's private lives," Hermione answered. "If the Minister got involved in everything his children did he wouldn't have time to run the country; after all, he's got seven of them." There was a ripple of laughter throughout the crowd at that as Hermione took a glance at her notes.

"One last thing before we finish here," Hermione said, reading her notes. "The Minister has decided to take this opportunity to remind the press that the private lives of his children are off limits. Any reporter overstepping their duty will find themselves at the mercy of security and if the situation calls for it, restraining orders. Thank you, that will be all."

Hermione picked up her notes and strode briskly out the press room, avoiding the various reporters trying to talk to her as she reached the exit to the press room.

"That was well done," Ron spoke as he fell into step beside her, having been watching the press conference from just outside the door. "You didn't hold any punches against Skeeter."

"I feel like no one in this building is particularly sad about that," Hermione replied as she wordlessly handed her notes off to Demelza. "How are things going with the raid?"

"They've finished," Ron replied. "That is the extent of my knowledge."

"Then why are you talking to me?" Hermione asked, coming to a stop outside her office.

"You did well," Ron replied with a shrug.

"Ron," Hermione said sharply, a hand waiting on her office door as she looked at him expectantly.

Ron hesitated slightly. "I wanted to thank you," he said.

"For the press conference?"

"For the last line," Ron replied, catching Hermione by surprise. "I know the Minister. I know him as a man and I know him as a politician, and I know he'd never tell you to say that." Ron paused slightly, looking along the corridor as though afraid he'd be overheard. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Hermione said softly, recognising the sincerity in Ron's voice that he rarely showed to anyone. "I've got work to do."

"Me too," Ron nodded, starting to back away. "I'll tell you when I start finding out stuff." He walked off as Hermione entered her office. Striding purposefully he started to make his way back towards his office before he spotted something that made him turn.

"Harry," he called over the various workstations between them, catching Harry's attention as he strode in the opposite direction. "Have they got her?"

"Yeah," Harry called back. "She's with the aurors now."

"Did she say anything?" Ron asked as Harry started to move out of sight.

"Nope, but I'm going to see Amos, speak to you later," Harry called as he walked out of sight, dodging a couple of secretaries as he rounded the corner and approached the office of the Chief of Staff.

When he arrived he found Amos on the phone, listening intently. Keeping quiet, Harry took a seat at the desk as he waited for Amos to finish his call.

"Alright, thanks, keep me up to date on what's happening," Amos said finally, putting the phone down as he turned his attention to Harry. "That was Kingsley Shacklebolt on the phone."

"What have they got?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

"On the raid of Skeeter's home they found pictures leading them to believe you aren't the first victim," Amos said seriously. "Even if that's not the case it was enough to allow us to question her under veritaserum. Apparently she's been talking for the last half hour, she could end up with a lengthy prison spell after this."

"Good," Harry said tiredly, slumping in his seat slightly.

"You still look like hell, Harry," Amos told him, looking at him with worried eyes. "Did you get much sleep last night?"

Harry nodded. "I slept well, actually," he replied. "It's just been so emotionally draining this last 24 hours, I feel like I could sleep for days."

"Well you should congratulate yourself, you did good today," Amos told him encouragingly. "Tell you what, send Cho on the Luton trip this afternoon and take the opportunity to rest."

"I can't do that," Harry argued back. "Cho's got just as much work as I do at the moment, I can't ask that from her."

"Then I will," Amos responded. "You've been through a lot Harry, and you need to rest, otherwise you'll just burn out and be of no use to anyone, okay."

Harry sighed and nodded, blinking blearily at the floor in tiredness.

"Now in the meantime I want some drafts for opposition questions over the trade bill," Amos said, snapping Harry back to attention. "It's coming up soon and we just need to make that final push to get it finalised. Go."

Harry left immediately, suddenly filled with new energy he was surprised he could even muster up after the last day.

"Hey Cho, Amos had an idea and-" Harry started as he approached his office.

"The Luton trip," Cho cut across knowingly. "Don't worry Harry, I'm on it. Amos told me I was going when I got in this morning."

"Of course he did," Harry muttered to himself as he reentered his office, pausing at the door when he realised he was not alone. "Ginny, what are you doing here?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Thought I'd pop by and see how my boyfriend was doing," Ginny replied, accepting his greeting kiss. "I didn't think that was a crime these days."

"It's not," Harry replied, taking her in his arms. "I'll always love to return to my office to find you here." He kissed her deeply, keeping her wrapped up in his arms as they stood in his office. "You're going to see your dad?"

"We're having lunch," Ginny answered. "I wanted to see if you would join us."

"I wish I could, but I'm seriously behind on work," Harry said, eyes roving to his desk and the stacks of paperwork on it. He frowned as he spotted a white envelope sitting among his half completed speeches, knowing it had not been there when he had left his office. Letting go of Ginny he picked the envelope up, reading the writing scrolled across the front in Hermione's distinct penmanship.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, looking at the envelope curiously.

"The photos of us," Harry answered, opening the envelope slightly to check the contents. "The only copies, except for the ones in the auror evidence closet, to do to as I wish." Harry summoned a bowl out of a seemingly innocuous cupboard although the bowl seemed anything but, holding a fire that danced before them.

"Can I see them?" Ginny asked as Harry started to lower the envelope towards the flames. Harry was surprised but handed the envelope over anyway, watching as Ginny took the photos and looked over them.

"We look good," Ginny said, sounding rather impressed. "You can't really see my tan but you're certainly looking in good shape Harry."

Harry chuckled at Ginny's assessment, again wondering how Ginny could look past the whole ordeal and simply see the pictures as they were. "Perhaps I should be going to the gym more often, if my muscles impress you so much."

Ginny gave him a sly grin in response, before starting to place the photos back into the envelope. Getting to the last one, she stopped short. "I think I'll keep this one," she said, slipping it neatly into her pocket with a wink. "For all those nights when you're stuck at work and I'm all alone."

Harry smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "You're going to lunch with your father with a photo of us having sex in your pocket?" he asked incredulously.

"Ron's coming too," Ginny replied. "It's a pity you can't join us."

"I can imagine you would have enjoyed that," Harry laughed.

Ginny winked and blew him a kiss. "I've got to go. See you later, love you," she said as she started to practically skip out of his office.

"Love you too, Ginny," Harry replied, watching her as she cut a path through ministry employees. With another amused shake of the head he looked down at the envelope in his hand, staring at it thoughtfully for a moment. He quickly pulled out a picture and slipped it into his pocket, dropping the envelope into the flames as he did so.

---

Harry scribbled away on the parchment, his writing becoming ridiculously small as he tried to squeeze it between the lines. Scratching his chin, he scored through a word on the line above and replaced it with another, before scoring through that too and choosing a third.

"Working hard, I see," the Minister spoke from the doorway, surprising Harry as he immediately moved to stand up. Behind the Minister was Ginny, grinning at his surprise, and Blaise, standing ready to serve the Minister. "You sure you don't want to join us?"

"I wish I could sir, but I've got a lot of work to get through," Harry answered respectfully.

"Too bad," the Minister sighed. "Well, maybe you'll be able to tell us where Ron is, he's not in his office."

"He hasn't got a meeting scheduled so I imagine he'll be with one of the other Senior Staff," Harry replied.

"I'll go find him," Ginny said, sighing exasperatedly at her brother's absence.

"Good idea," the Minister agreed. "Blaise, could you perhaps go fetch my cloak for me, I seem to have forgotten it back in my office?"

"Of course, sir," Blaise replied, leaving Harry and the Minister on their own.

"You sure you don't want to come?" the Minister asked after a moments silence. "Ginny's taking us all to Gina's, should be good."

"Thank you sir, but I really need to work," Harry replied, glancing at the pile of papers still on his desk. The Minister nodded his acceptance as they fell into silence again, each waiting for the others to return.

"Sir, can I ask you something?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Well, you just did but I think I can allow one more question," the Minister replied cheekily, grinning slightly at his joke.

"When did you find out I was dating Ginny?"

The Minister shifted slightly on his feet, glancing around vaguely into space. "Well, from the start to be honest with you," he said eventually. "It was back in Manchester, wasn't it, on the election trail." Harry nodded.

"It wasn't particularly difficult to figure out," the Minister said, reminiscing. "You asked for the evening off for personal reasons, and at the same time my daughter, who had only come to Manchester to see me, told me she had a date. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together."

Harry blushed slightly. "I didn't actually realise who she was at first," he admitted. "She came to me during your speech and complemented me for it, I never even considered how she knew I'd wrote it. I didn't suspect anything until she mentioned how weird it was to be going on a date with the man trying to get her father elected."

The Minister chuckled. "Fate has a funny habit of yanking us around," he admitted, thanking Blaise as he helped him into his robes. "But as long as the end is good I'm happy to be taken along for the ride."

"Are we ready to go, sir?" Blaise asked.

"Now we are," the Minister said as Ginny returned with Ron in toe.

"Man, I'm starving," Ron said loudly, rubbing his stomach. "Harry, you joining us?"

"Can't," Harry replied. "I'm still working on the Luton closing address."

"Well, not to put any pressure on you or anything, but Hermione's going nuts about it," Ron informed him with a grin.

"I know," Harry said grimly. "See you after lunch."

They each said their goodbyes as they headed off, leaving Harry to work on his speech as the magical window spilled artificial light into the room. Finishing his work with a sharp jab of his quill, Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed. Dropping a hand into his pocket Harry pulled out the picture he'd saved from earlier and watched as he and Ginny embraced lovingly beneath the 'The Brewer' sign. And for the first time since hearing the news, Harry broke out into a real smile.

---

A/N: There we go. I hope you've all enjoyed the first instalment of this story. I imagine you must have if you are still reading by this point. Please let me know what you thought and in the mean time I'll continue working on the next chapter.

Bye for now.