Disclaimer: Alas, none of them belong to me.
Warnings: Vicious gossip.
A/N: I hope you enjoy this. Hm...wonder whether the rumours are true.
Chapter 9: Talk Is Cheap
On his way back to the Hog's Head, Draco was stopped by three members of the Weasley clan, whom he recognized by their striking resemblance to both one another and to Hugo. He groaned inwardly. It was just his luck that they were on his tail. Mustering as much politeness as he could, he turned to face them.
"Gentlemen, good afternoon. What can I do for you?"
The first one, the one who looked rather bookish, cleared his throat. "I'm sure that you're aware that our brother is the Town Councillor. He—ahem—sent us to, ah, um. What I'm trying to say is…"
"What he's trying to say, and doing a rather poor job of it," cut in the tallest of the three, "is that we need to make sure that you're not bothering Harry."
"I was getting to that," the first one said hotly. He turned back to Draco. "I'm sure that you're aware that Harry has worked hard to settle into a quiet life. Your presence here constitutes a threat to his peaceful existence. According to Ministry Regulation Number…"
The third one interrupted, "We don't need all the details, Percy. Mr. Hadley, all we need is some proof that you're not a rabid fan here to make trouble for him."
Draco felt himself beginning to panic. Of course Potter had protection from the Ministry of Magic. He had to think fast.
"Gentlemen, of course. I'm staying just there, at the Hog's Head. Why don't you join me for a drink and we can have a chat."
Two out of the three of them shrugged, glancing at each other. The short, stocky one said, "I could go for a pint."
But Specky Weasley shook his head. "This is entirely improper. We can surely accompany Mr. Hadley to the Hog's Head without stopping inside. I am certain that he can give us what we need while we wait."
"Of course I can! But what better way for you to tell me more about your village and the people in it than sitting down together for some refreshments?"
The other two seemed to agree. Being outvoted, Specky Weasley had no choice but to agree. Reluctantly, he followed the rest.
Along the way, they met up with a group of witches, their arms laden with packages from several of the shops along the main street. They were chattering warmly. When they spotted Draco, their talk turned to giggling and pointing.
When they saw that Draco had seen them, they crossed the street to where he stood with the three Weasleys. One of the women, who was wearing bright purple robes, stepped forward. "Mr. Hadley!" she gushed. "We were just talking about you. Mrs. Weasley—that is, Councillor Weasley's wife—was sharing with us the other day that you've been in at the Silver Quill. You must have met Mr. Potter, then?"
Yet another Mrs. Weasley? How bloody many of them were there? Draco suppressed the urge to ask that question aloud and answered, "Yes, of course. Mr. Potter seems to be a pleasant sort of fellow."
"A 'pleasant sort of fellow'? You must not have heard what people say about him!" Mrs. Purple Robes said, sounding surprised. "I know he's the former hero of the wizarding world and all, but really!"
Draco looked from one woman to another in confusion. So far, he had heard nothing at all about Potter, other than what little Blaise had shared.
Mrs. Purple Robes leaned forward conspiratorially. "Well, surely you know why he didn't marry the Weasley girl."
"Yes, I'd heard that," Draco said, not bothering to conceal his impatience. "I'm not sure what you're on about."
"Well, when she caught him cheating on her, she refused to tell anyone with whom she saw him. Everyone has their theories, everything from one of poor Ginny's brothers to a former Death Eater." She glanced around. "We think they're all wrong, of course. The real story is that he was cheating on her with a—" she lowered her voice "—muggle."
The other witches gave appropriately scandalised gasps.
A woman in scarlet robes added, "And the proof of that, of course, is the sorts of books he sells in that shop of his." The others nodded vigorously.
Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. Not that he didn't agree with them, at least to a point, but the whole conversation seemed irrelevant. "Ladies, I don't mean to be rude. But I fail to see what this has to do with me."
"We think perhaps you should be more careful with whom you spend your time, that's all—especially if you're among the children. Perhaps you'd like to hear the rest of the story?"
Draco did not, in fact, want to hear the story. He had spent the last fifteen years avoiding precisely that. There had been a time when he would have relished a bit of juicy gossip about Potter, of course. But that had been a time when he could use it to his advantage.
That thought made Draco pause for a moment, considering. He might be able to turn this conversation in his favour after all. Asking Potter directly for his help hadn't gone well; perhaps having something to hold over his head might be more useful. Not only that, he might be able to wiggle out of his current predicament with the Weasleys in the process. He turned to look at the three men, still standing around him.
The tall one looked positively livid. "Ladies, we have some business with Mr. Hadley. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than spreading vicious gossip about Harry Potter."
Mrs. Purple Robes turned to Tall Weasley. "I don't see how you can defend Mr. Potter after what he put your family through."
"While I appreciate your concern, you might want to rethink whether or not you know anything at all about my family and what we have or haven't been through." Tall Weasley stepped toward her.
She huffed indignantly. "Well, if it had been my sister…anyway, back to my tale." The other women came in closer as she lowered her voice. Draco leaned in to hear. "Back some years ago, before Old Aberforth retired, he used to entertain Mr. Potter at the Hog's Head. Mr. Potter had a lifetime of free drinks, owing to his victory over He Who Shall Not Be Named."
"I think it's safe to name him now," Stocky Weasley said dryly.
Mrs. Purple Robes grunted a little and continued. "Anyway, when Aberforth retired, he sold the Hog's Head. But he also owned the building that is now the Silver Quill. He never sold that building, just gave it to Mr. Potter, along with an extensive collection of Muggle books. Imagine! Muggle books. And the strangest ones, too—full of their quaint and curious ideas about what the magical world is like."
"And?" Draco asked.
"And? What do you mean, and? There's no and. Even when Aberforth was still living here, everyone was suspicious of his relationship with Mr. Potter."
"Just what sort of relationship would that be? Sounds to me like Aberforth was trying to make sure he stayed on the good side of the local hero."
"One would think. But I think—" Mrs. Purple Robes pressed forwards and whispered, "—there was a lot more to it than that. Those late-night meetings? Sneaking away to visit him? There's more than one way to be on the good side of the local hero, Mr. Hadley."
"Are you saying they were intimate?"
She quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly. "I'm saying that no one really knows, and Mr. Potter isn't saying either way."
"I suppose," Draco said slowly, "that it isn't much of a stretch. We all do things we later regret, no?"
The witches nodded solemnly. Mrs. Purple went on with her tale. "After that, Mr. Potter moved here permanently. He maintains his property in London as well. It wasn't until later that he and Ms. Weasley ended their engagement." She leaned back in satisfaction at completing her sordid tale. "Of course, having his house in London gave him ample access to Muggles, and a place in which to entertain them."
All three of the Weasleys were now glaring. The stocky one said, "There is absolutely no real evidence that Harry was behaving inappropriately. I certainly hope, madam, that you are not telling these stories all over town."
"We would appreciate if the lot of you would clear off so we can get back to what we were doing," added the tall one.
The witches looked about to begin a genuine argument with the three Weasleys. For a few minutes, Draco just stood there. Then, very slowly, he began to inch backwards, out of the pack of people. He intended to sneak away from the group, leaving them discussing whether or not the scandalous behaviour of the Boy Who Lived to Be Gossipped About was true.
Unfortunately for Draco, Stocky Weasley caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. "Hang on a moment," he said.
Draco stopped, waiting. The witches were finally leaving. When they were out of sight, Specky Weasley turned to Draco.
"My apologies," he said.
"What in Merlin's name was that all about?"
"Oh, them?" Tall Weasley cocked his head in the direction the witches had gone. "They come up with a new addition to their story every week. It's quite ridiculous, all the sh—erm, rubbish they spread."
"We would appreciate if you would keep this to yourself. No need for this gossip to get out of hand."
Draco pondered briefly then said, "I'm sure you're right. But if I were, in fact, a 'rabid fan', as you put it, I might require some incentive for keeping the conversation quiet."
The three Weasleys exchanged glances. Draco hid a smirk. It was no longer a question of whether or not they would leave him alone to conduct his business.
As predicted, Stocky Weasley said, "All right. We'll make a deal. You won't spread the rumours, and we won't interfere with your work. Fair enough?"
"Absolutely."
The men took their leave, returning to the centre of the village. Draco continued on his way back to the Hog's Head.
On the walk back up the hill, Draco wondered how much of what the women had said was true. He was surprised that there was anyone left who didn't think the sun rose and set on the Conquering Hero, aside from himself. Back in his younger years, Draco would have been more than happy to believe the rumours without question—and likely continue to spread them. Now, he only felt confused. What did Potter think he had to prove, and what was he escaping by trapping himself in this town with people who kept watch on his every move in order to fuel their gossip?
Draco cursed himself for getting lost in thoughts about Potter and what he had or hadn't been up to. He contented himself with being grateful that Potter's alleged indiscretions allowed him to escape safely from the clutches of Potter's ginger bodyguards. He could figure out what to do with his newly acquired information another time.
