A/N I Own Nothing
Ao3 - Once_Upon_A_Potter
May 2nd, 2000
"Though, I'm sure Mr. Potter can answer that question himself," Rita crouched down to where she was eyelevel with Harry, making eye contact through the gaps between his wife, brother, and sister. "Can't you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry stood, regretting having crouched down when the dizziness from standing too quickly washed over him.
"I don't-" Harry started, only to be cut off by Rita.
"Lovely!" Rita exclaimed, grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip. "Come right this way, and we'll get this interview started."
"Hey!" Ginny called, unable to do anything but watch as Rita Skeeter dragged her husband off to interview him.
"She can't do that!" Ron muttered before pausing. "Can she do that?"
"Hm." Hermione hummed. When she had returned to Hogwarts to finish her education, she had focused on magical law. She wasn't sure how it was in the muggle world, but in the magical, to write a biography of a living person you had to ask the person in question for permission before writing. Unless the person in question was underage, in which case, you had to ask their magical guardian. As for literally dragging someone off to interview them, while you really shouldn't do that, there wasn't much they could do, as Harry was indeed a legal adult and had 'seemingly' gone of his own free will.
xXx
"Here, this will work just perfectly!" Rita exclaimed, coming to a stop in a secluded corner. "Let me just reset my quill here." She said, popping the tip of her quill into her mouth. "Now, while we're waiting for that to fully reset, can I interest you in some firewhiskey?" Rita continued, pulling a flask out of her trusty crocodile handbag.
"Uh, no thank you." Harry muttered, glancing back out towards the crowd.
"Ah. Still hung over from last night?"
"Um, no." Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't- I don't drink."
"Humph. Tell that to your butterbeer belly." Rita grumbled, shoving the flask back into her bag. She had been hoping to… loosen… his tongue a bit before interviewing him. Firewhiskey always made for the best interviews, too.
"Excuse me?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head. Was he showing? He didn't think he was through his clothes yet. And he had dressed more casually, hoping to avoid anyone noticing the tiny, ever growing bump. But, if Rita had noticed, what other, more reliable sources, may have noticed? Though, maybe it was just Rita Skeeter being Rita Skeeter.
"So!" Rita cleared her throat. "Harry, tell me, what have you been up to in the last two years?"
May 5th, 2000
"How bad is it?" Harry asked, coming into the kitchen of his and Ginny's apartment.
"Well," Ginny sighed, dropping the Daily Prophet onto the table, "You've apparently turned to the bottle and I've apparently been sleeping my way through our classmates."
"What?" Harry asked, incredulously, grabbing the paper from where Ginny had dropped it on the table, and glancing through it. "Where did she even get any of that?"
"It's Rita Skeeter." Ginny snorted, grabbing the paper back from her husband and flipping to the real-estate section, they had been tentatively starting to look for a new place . "Where does she get any of the stuff she writes?"
May 10th, 2000
"Will you want to breastfeed?" Ethan asked, looking up from his clipboard to look at Harry.
"I can do that?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised. "How? I mean, I don't have-" he cut off, gesturing to his chest. There was a very important part of that word that he simply didn't have.
"Yes, well. Usually a bearer would develop breasts," Ethan started explaining, and Harry's face suddenly felt much warmer. "when they drink the bearer potion. However, seeing as you're a second generation bearer and come across this naturally, but have yet to develop completely…" Ethan sighed, "There's a potion for it."
"There's a… Potion…?" Harry muttered, of course there was a potion for it! "Can I talk to Ginny about it first?"
"Of course!" Ethan exclaimed, "There's even potions Ginny could take to allow her to breastfeed. Though, if you go down this route, I would recommend you give it a try first, the magical bond between a child and the person who carried them is a strong one, after all! It's a bond that reflects in milk quality as well."
"O-Okay, I will- I will talk to Ginny about it." Harry stuttered, this was not where he had been expecting this appointment to go.
xXx
"You can do that?" Ginny asked, eyebrows raised.
"…yeah, apparently so."
May 12th, 2000
"Healer Pomfrey wants you to take one of each of these potions each day, for the entirety of your second trimester." The potions apprentice at the Apothecary told Harry, handing him a box of several yellow and green potions.
"Oh! Mr. Potter!" A familiar voice called, the apothecary went completely silent. Harry sighed in resignation. "What a coincidence to see you here!"
Then, the whispering started.
"Potter? As in Harry Potter?"
"The Harry Potter?"
"Where?"
Harry flipped the hood of his hoodie up, grabbing the potions from the potions apprentice, and shoving several galleons at the potions master. He turned, barely making it two steps before coming face to face with Rita Skeeter.
He shook his head, glaring, before maneuvering around her and storming through the crowd which had fallen silent once again and had parted like the red sea.
"Mr. Potter!" The potions apprentice called, "You were two galleons shor-!"
"Put it on my tab." Harry snapped, immediately feeling bad for snapping at the fresh faced teenager, as he shoved open the door to the apothecary.
May 15th, 2000
"Alright." Harry muttered, sitting down at the table beside Ginny. He was still half asleep and his hair was even more a mess than usual. "How bad is it this time?"
Ginny sighed, turning the Daily Prophet around for Harry to see the front headline.
Recovering alcoholic Harry Potter turns to drugs, rampages in Diagon Alley Apothecary!
By Rita Skeeter
Harry blinked at the paper, where did she come up with half this stuff?
"Well, you did storm out of the apothecary." Ginny muttered, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.
"How does that translate to rampaging though?" Harry asked, puzzled. "And where did she get drugs?"
"Well… You were in the magical equivalent to a-" Ginny started.
"Drugstore." Harry finished, scanning the article. "I know. She points that out several times in this thing. But drugstore doesn't mean that type of drugs!"
"I know that. She apparently doesn't. And I'd bet most reading this don't either." Ginny stressed, tapping the paper. "I'm still trying to figure out where she got alcohol in the first place."
Harry looked down at his barely showing, could still easily be mistaken for food, baby bump. Ginny followed his gaze, eyebrow raising.
"She called it a butterbeer belly." Harry grumbled.
May 18th, 2000
"We should get out of this alley." Hermione said hurriedly, glancing around. This was going to look really bad for both of them, if they were caught alone together in a random alley.
They had been going store to store, inspecting each store in Knockturn alley as part of the Ministry's efforts to restore said neighborhood, when Harry had been hit by a wave of morning sickness, and ducked into a nearby alleyway. And just when he had been thinking he might be getting past it, too.
"Give me a minute, Hermione." Harry mumbled, barely having time to crouch down before gagging again.
"I- Okay." Hermione sighed, rummaging through her bag and pulling out a water bottle, then kneeling beside Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder. She held the water bottle out to him, "Here. I don't think you have anything left to throw up… it's all gagging and dry heaving now."
Harry nodded tiredly in agreement, taking the bottle from her. Now Hermione just hoped no one saw them leaving the alley together.
May 19th, 2000
Hermione came storming into the Aruor offices, heading straight toward Harry.
"That woman, I swear!" She seethed, as she crossed the room.
Harry shut his eyes in resignation. "Let me guess… Rita Skeeter?"
There was the sound of rustling paper as Hermione shoved the Daily Prophet at him.
He opened his eyes and glanced down at the headline.
Harmonious love affair, or Love square for the ages?
by Rita Skeeter
He sighed a sigh that came out more a growl than a sigh.
"This has gone too far, Harry! We can't even be seen in public without her writing her take on it!" Hermione cried. "Something needs to be done."
"I know, Hermione, I know." Harry assured, "I'm already talking to a lawyer about a restraining order… and possibly suing."
"And?"
"And. It's a long process, that may or may not be successful."
May 21st, 2000
"You bought a bus?!" Harry and Ginny heard Molly yelling as they entered the burrow for Sunday lunch, it just happened to be one of the lunches they were able to make it to, not going to all as they had to drive three and a half hours now. The young couple shared a look.
"What about the Ford Angela that has been sitting out there all these years now?" Molly continued.
"Dad brought home a minibus." George said simply in explanation.
"Well, Molly dear, I was thinking we could give it to one of the kids or sell it?"
"It's a junk pile!"
"Well, fix it up first, of course!" Arthur exclaimed, "I've already been working on it, I even found a new radio to put in it!"
"Then finish 'fixing it up' and do something with it! And don't make it fly this time!"
"Oh dear." Arthur mumbled, coming into the living room with his children, "I guess I'll have to take those charms off of it."
"What was that?" Molly yelled from the kitchen.
"Nothing! Molly dear!"
May 25th, 2000
"Good game out there today team!" Gwenog announced, coming into the Holyhead Harpies tent, the sound of cheering being blocked out by a silencing charm as the tent flap fluttered shut behind her. "Now let's go answer some reporters' questions, then we'll grab a pint to celebrate our victory!"
This time the cheering was coming from the Holyhead Harpies' tent, as they headed out to face the crowd.
The sound was deafening as they exited their tent, and the flashing of cameras was blinding.
"Yes, yes! Congratulations Holyhead Harpies, congratulations!" the coordinator for the game announced over his speaker. "Now, the team has graciously agreed to
answer any questions you may have in a short Question and Answer session!"
There was an immediate uproar from the crowds, as everyone started speaking at once.
Ginny was happy to stand in the background and let her fellow teammates bask in the spotlight.
"I have a question for Mrs. Potter." A familiar voice stood out several minutes later. "I couldn't help but notice that Mr. Potter wasn't in the crowd this evening."
"Is that a question, or a statement, Ms. Skeeter?" Ginny asked the middle aged woman. Of course Harry wasn't there, it was held in America, and he couldn't exactly travel via magic and they hadn't deemed it worth him taking off work to fly to America for a small game such as this one. Though, this was the first game of hers he had missed, they should have known someone, someone being Rita Skeeter, would notice his absence.
"I was just wondering where he was, and why he wasn't here?"
Ginny sighed, "Unfortunately, he took ill last night, and wasn't able to make it."
"Hmm." Rita hummed. "It does seem he's ill quite a lot recently, doesn't it?"
Ginny could have groaned, imagining what the next headline would be.
May 27th, 2000
Ginny did groan, when she saw what the next headline was,
Harry Potter, addicted or terminally ill?
By Rita Skeeter
May 31st, 2000
"Another owl?" Harry asked, seeing Ginny adding to the ever growing pile of letters on their kitchen table.
Ginny nodded. "They're all worried." Ever since Rita's latest article, they had been bombarded with concerned letters from friends and strangers alike, trying to check on Harry and Ginny both. "We're going to have to tell the public eventually."
"I know." Harry sighed. "I want to keep this pregnancy private as long as possible though."
"I wouldn't exactly call this private." Ginny said, gesturing towards the pile (more like small mountain) of letters.
"But they don't know I'm pregnant, yet."
"True." Ginny conceded, "But we need to tell them somethi-" she was cut off by a tapping at the window. "And maybe figure out a way to stop the mail."