I do not own any of these characters.
I do not make money from my writing.
Thanks to Kitster, my wonderful beta for this chapter. If any of you still find errors, please, please, pleeeaaase point them out so I can fix them right away. Thank you!
Please review. It helps let me know if I am on the right track and if you are all satisfied.
Dozens of Daily Prophets lay stacked in a corner of the tiny office.
"BOY WHO LIVED DOES NOT RETURN TO HOGWARTS"
"SAVIOUR ENGAGED"
"POTTER DOES IT AGAIN. LAST DEATH EATER CAPTURED"
"BOY WHO LIVED: CAN HE LIVE AGAIN?"
"THIRD POTTER CHILD BORN"
"POTTER RECOVERS FROM INJURY"
"TROUBLE IN POTTER HOUSE"
"POTTER WANTED FOR MINISTER OF MAGIC"
"POTTER DIVORCES. INSIDE SCOOP FROM FAMILY FRIEND"
"GINNY WEASLEY: LOVING EX WIFE, OR GOLD DIGGER?"
On and on they went, prying into Harry Potter's life and getting as many facts right as wrong. Harry didn't keep them for any important reason. It was just easy to skim through the Prophet when it was delivered each morning to his study, then fold it up again and place it in a pile. Every now and then, Hermione would come by and throw some away, but she left behind the ones to do with Harry in case she ever needed to refer to them. Sometimes, even incorrect information is valuable.
That morning, the Prophet was particularly interesting.
"MALFOY: SEXY BAD BOY OR FUTURE HEALER?"
Harry couldn't help noticing how the Prophet's headlines seemed to be becoming...louder. Circulation must be down. He unfolded the paper and began to read:
Draco Malfoy, known for his dark past and bachelor lifestyle seems to have been holding out on us. As it turns out, this playboy isn't as bad as we thought. Malfoy, or should we say, HEALER Malfoy, has been working in Muggle hospitals for the past five years. He has at last returned to London to work as a Magical Healer specializing in damage caused by dark magic. We were lucky enough to interview our very own Rita Skeeter who has been very close to Mr. Malfoy for years.
DP: We've confirmed with other Healers that Mr. Malfoy is indeed going to begin work at St. Mungo's this week. Is this something we should have seen coming?
RS: Well obviously you should have seen it coming but of course you were all looking in the wrong direction. That's what he wanted. To trick you all with his sexual exploits so he could swoop in and awe us all with his supposed wondrous healing skills. Well, let me tell you, his expertise is nothing more than a few simple healing charms and the use of simple homemade potions. It's his money that secured his position. He told me himself. I have recently broken off our friendship because he would not listen when I told him not to go through with this.
DP: But why would he want to be a healer?
RS: To clear the Malfoy name of course. But he won't actually be doing any work. No, no, no. He is there for show. But of course, he was my dear friend, and I must say he is putting a lot of money into this little project of his so he should merited in some respects. It's all to do with his troubled past, you see. Much like The Boy Who Lived, Draco Malfoy has deep shadows from which he can't escape. It's all in my new book, "From Death Eater to Healer: The Draco Malfoy Story." It will be coming out in just a few weeks.
DP: A new book? How impressive! Will there be any quotes from Mr. Malfoy himself?
RS: Oh, certainly not. But there will be quotes from even more important sources. A few ex Death Eaters and, if I have anything to say about it, Draco's old school rival, Harry Po-
Harry had had enough. A quote from him? Doubtful. Rita Skeeter may be right about Draco Malfoy buying his way into a job, but Dumbledore would have to rise from the dead before he would give a quote to that woman. He folded the prophet and set it on top of the rest before trudging down the stairs to fix breakfast. He poured himself some cereal and did his best not to think about Draco Malfoy and the scars he must still have on his chest.
"Mother! Have you seen this filth? That woman is actually saying that I bought my way into my position at St. Mungo's! She makes it sound as if I am nothing but a playboy idiot, desperately trying to gain good standing! As if I need to do that! With all the money I have poured in to rebuilding after the war, to researching counter curses, to-"
"Yes, darling." Narcissa Malfoy sipped her tea and looked at her son. He was a mess. His usually slicked back hair was in disarray, his collar was folded improperly, and by far the worst part, he was wearing black socks with his white Healer's uniform. "I've seen the filth. I ignored it. What I can't ignore is your appearance. If you insist on going out looking like a beggar who stole a Healer's uniform then at least go out as one who also stole matching socks."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. I look perfectly fine." To prove it, Draco waved his wand and a mirror appeared before him. "My God…" Draco stared at his reflection in comical horror, "Look at what that woman has done to me!"
Narcissa set her tea aside and rose to help her son. With a few flourishes of her wand his hair was sleek, his collar the definition of perfection, and his socks, thankfully, a pure white.
Draco sighed.
"I don't know if I can do this."
"You can and you will. Now leave. I'm a very busy woman and I can't have you taking up all of my time."
Draco smirked and hugged his mother.
"I'll be back for dinner to tell you all about my day. Just don't expect me to make this a habit. I'm not moving back in with you, mother."
"I wouldn't dream of it, darling." And with a crack, she was gone. Off to fill her morning by picking out new curtains for Draco's old bedroom.
Draco grabbed the Prophet and began to read it again, focusing on the section that disturbed him most.
DP: So do you think he is still a Playboy?
RS: Of course he is. The question is, does he go dancing to meet witches, or wizards?
It was Rita Skeeter and she had accused everyone from Severus Snape to Harry Potter of being gay and had usually been dead wrong so, Draco had nothing to worry about. Most people would never believe it after the reputation he had made for himself. What bothered him wasn't what she was saying.
What bothered him was that she was right.
"Why did I have to go and use up all my luck so early in life…?" He sighed and stretched, dreading the day that was to come.
