Ginny Potter goes fishing.
For a superstar Quidditch player married to probably the most famous person in the Wizarding World, Ginny Potter was doing quite an ordinary thing. She was walking; and it was as she was walking that she bumped into a few journalists. She recognised some of them; they'd become regulars around the training grounds of the Harpies; if they kept their questions professional, they got along with her well enough. Although tabloid journalists still came along, it was a less frequent occurrence than before, for which Ginny was grateful.
"Oh, you poor dear." An unfamiliar voice spoke out of an equally unfamiliar face.
Ginny was confused; yes, she hadn't scored with all her shots in training; but then, no one was perfect, despite what Harry might continually say to the contrary.
Ginny adopted a confused expression.
"Oh, but you don't know?" The face now bore an expression (totally fake, Ginny knew) of sympathy and pity. "You poor dear!"
Ginny continue to pull her 'uncertain' face.
Slowly, reminding Ginny of the sickly sweetness of Dolores Umbridge, this person produced a photograph, which it gave to Ginny to peruse.
But Ginny did not peruse it; she just glanced at it and handed it back.
It was a photograph of Harry; but Harry was not alone, he was with a woman. Now Ginny wouldn't have exploded even if the woman was a complete stranger – she trusted her husband. But this woman was not a stranger; Ginny knew her well, and the implication the 'journalist' was trying to make was truly laughable. But Ginny managed to keep her amusement to herself and scoffed at the journalist.
"One?" Ginny asked. "Just one? I can entertain a dozen men at once without breaking a sweat." As Ginny began walking off, with an expression of lament as though Harry had failed her high standard, she heard the sound of a quill scratching across parchment.
"Oh, Mizzus Potter! Missus Potter!" Ginny heard the journalist waddling to catch up with her strides. "Can you give us names, Mizzuz Potter?"
"A lady never tells." Ginny replied, and disapparated.
Harry Potter apparated near his front door. He heard a noise as he landed, and had his wand aimed at the expected source.
Someone was stuck in the rosebushes. He was a squat little man, who gave a squeal of fright when he saw Harry, and fell into to his prickly predicament.
Harry pulled him out, and the guy stumbled away before disapparating. Harry hoped he didn't splinch himself; he looked awfully frightened.
Harry went back to his front doorstep; the Evening Prophet had arrived. Harry picked it up and unlocked his front door; immediately delicious smells wafted up his nostrils. Harry hurried to get changed.
"Evening love." Harry called as he did so. Ginny replied in kind.
Harry, now changed, moved into the kitchen to assist Ginny. He made a quick check for Ron hiding in the pantry, waiting for a chance to gobble up their food whilst the Potters were distracted, but there was no Ron.
Harry grinned.
"What are you so happy about?" Ginny asked.
"Cooking is so much fun with magic."
"And why is that?"
"Well it leaves my hands free…" Harry demonstrated just what a boon that was, which made the pots and pans lose the attention of Ginny Potter.
"Ginny, is something the matter?" Harry asked callously, while the pans whistled for attention, whose cries of anguish fell on deaf ears. Fine. The pots thought. Your dinner will burn.
Ginny, ignoring the wails of distress behind her, answered. "Oh, people being people, I suppose."
Harry thought that Ginny wasn't going to elaborate, so he continued to hold her.
"Life's gotten much better than it was a few years ago;" Ginny continued. "Sometimes though…"
"Did someone do something to you, love?" Harry asked, with all the love and affection he wasn't giving the pans.
Ginny's head, which had been resting on Harry's shoulder, shot up. "Not to me; well sort of, it was about you; which in turn, gets to me."
Harry kissed Ginny's forehead.
"You remember the other night at the Leaky?"
"Yes."
"Well, someone was there and snapped a picture of you and Hannah. And someone tried to imply that you were being…well, I don't know or why they do it. Can't they leave you—us alone?"
Harry hugged her understandingly, and then pulled back with a shrewd expression on his face. "You did something, didn't you?"
Ginny pulled her innocent face. "Umm…yes?"
Harry, noticing Ginny's body language, went over and picked up the Evening Prophet. Sure enough, emblazoned on the front page, was the headline
The Sordid Secrets of Ginny Potter.
While her husband tirelessly risks his life for the protection of us all, his gold-digging, love-potion-using wife is using her position of fame and wealth to further her own sleazy interests…
...She shamelessly admitted her actions to your stunned correspondent's ears…
…We wish Harry all the best, and hope he can be rid of this deceiver at once.
Harry read, skipping through the article.
"They're quite vitriolic tonight." Harry commented, trying to control the righteous anger he was feeling on Ginny's behalf. "What's this about 'admitting your actions.'?" Harry asked. "What did you say?"
Harry knew the accusations were unequivocally false; but he did wonder what Ginny had said.
"Well, I told them how utterly unimpressive the presence of one lady is, when I can easily get a dozen men."
"I suppose you didn't mention names."
"Of course not!"
"Names like Ron,"
"George,"
"Arthur,"
"Bill,"
"Charlie,"
"Percy,"
"Kingsley,"
"Oliver,"
"Justin,"
"Terry,"
"Neville,"
"Seamus,"
"And Xenophillius. No, I didn't think that was pertinent." Ginny said. "I am slightly ashamed that my blatant fishing got such a large catch; it wasn't as if I put any effort in at all."
"Yes, a large catch of negative public opinion." Harry observed. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, get the attention off me; but I feel the same way for you."
"Well, Public Opinion is a bit of an idiot." Ginny observed. "Besides, when they're attacking you, I lose my temper and get hex-happy. When they're on my case, I can be more controlled."
"Mad and unpredictable Ginny versus cool and calculated Ginny. I'm not sure which is more terrifying."
"Well, it'll probably be bad for a few days, but we've survived worst. And then my friend," Ginny patted Harry's shoulder. "Then my friend and husband, my plan shall be unfurled!"
"You're just making it up as you go along. You just jumped into this."
"Oh, darling, how can you suggest that I didn't have a genius plan from the very begin…okay you've got me there."
What did it matter what the fickle pickles thought? We've got each other, and that's all that matters.
In revenge for Ginny and Harry using their mouths on each other rather than their dinner, their food burned itself. Ron would have something to say about the evils of negligence at their next meeting.