Disclaimer: In addition to the usual (for which see chapter one), this chapter contains a line quite gratuitously and unashamedly taken from a Monty Python sketch. Obviously, this is not mine, as it belongs to its creators. Full credit will be given at the end of this chapter to give the Python fans among you a chance to spot it.
Chapter Eight: Confrontations and Confessions
After Voldemort's defeat, most of the business that catered to the Dark Arts in Knockturn Alley had been closed down. In many cases, the buildings that housed them had been razed to the ground. Then more legitimate commerce had begun to filter in from crowded Diagon Alley. Among them was Witch Weekly's publisher which had recently moved from its cramped quarters near Gringotts to a spacious new building. The irony of the new location was not lost on Harry .
He had never been so angry over a Witch Weekly article before. Normally he just ignored them, knowing them for the rubbish they were. But now he was outraged for Ginny's sake and the damage that might be done to her reputation.
His anger must have been apparent on his face, when he strode into the publisher's and demanded to see the editor-in-chief himself, because the receptionist visibly recoiled. Still she found the nerve to give the standard excuse, "Mr. Grey is in a meeting."
"The hell he is," Harry retorted, as he walked straight past her desk.
Mr. Grey's office was easy enough to locate. There was an identifying plaque on the wall which proclaimed: Paul Grey, Editor-in-Chief. Harry opened the door quietly without knocking. Grey was seated with his back to the door, obviously unaware of Harry's presence for the moment, because he continued dictating to a Quick Quotes Quill. "So Mrs. Teal, send us fifty Galleons, and your husband Trevor, and your lovely children Diane, Janice, and Juliet, need never know the name of your lover in Boulton," he finished with an air of triumph.
Harry cleared his throat. Grey started and turned around. A calculating look overcame his dark features when he saw who stood in his office. He glanced at his watch and gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat, Mr. Potter."
Harry fixed his gaze on the other man. "I'd prefer to stand, if you don't mind." His tone was icy and calm.
"I assume you've seen our latest issue."
Harry held up the copy he'd brought with him from Ginny's. "I have. I'm here to demand a retraction."
Mr. Grey had the audacity to laugh. Harry's fists clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure. He was well aware that an ugly scene would only give the magazine fodder for its next issue. "Now, now," Grey said once his laughter had subsided. "Surely you aren't going to stand there and try to deny what we've got photographic proof of."
"My relationship with Ginny Weasley has no place in your rag."
"I see. So you aren't denying your relationship."
Harry cringed inwardly. This was not going the way he'd hoped.
"My dear Mr. Potter," Grey continued, "you are a public figure. Our subscribers have shown an interest in you. In short, your name on our covers sells magazines. You can hardly blame me for sticking with a tried and true formula."
"I can blame you for printing half truths." Harry's voice was starting rise. He knew he was getting to the point where wandless magic might occur, and he'd have to be careful. At the moment he was at least as angry as the time he'd blown up his Aunt Marge.
"We've printed a great many articles on you in the past. If memory serves, this is the first time you've lodged a complaint. Now why might that be?"
Harry refused to take the bait. "My relationship with Ginny is none of your readers' business," he repeated in a more modulated voice. "You had no right to portray her the way you did."
"Perhaps you'd like to offer us an exclusive, then. Tell us the story your way. Let our readers see your lady friend the way you do."
"Not bloody likely. You'll still find a way to rearrange the facts to suit you."
"Perhaps Ms. Weasley would like to tell her side of things, then…"
"If I catch anyone from Witch Weekly anywhere near her, I won't hesitate to use the Cruciatus Curse on them, and the consequences be damned." Harry enunciated each word carefully in a dangerous tone. Then he turned and left the office.
He Apparated into the centre of Hogsmeade, rather than directly to Ginny's, since he felt that walking would provide some physical activity to help him let go of part of his anger. As he approached Ginny's front door, he thought he heard shouting coming from inside the cottage. He hurried to the front door and opened it. Upon entering the house, he saw Molly and Ginny facing each other down. He noted Ginny's flashing eyes and the way her cheeks were flushed and realised the shouting he'd heard had been an argument. Doubtless, Molly had received her copy of Witch Weekly, had seen the photos, and had come to confront Ginny about them.
When Molly rounded on him, he could see the same signs of anger in her that he'd noticed in her daughter. He braced himself for the assault he knew was coming.
"You!" exclaimed Molly, advancing on Harry. "What gives you the right to walk in here as if you own the place?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," replied Harry. "I heard shouting. I thought there might be some sort of trouble."
"And what sort of trouble might that be? And just what are you doing in Hogsmeade, anyway?" She didn't seem to expect a reply, since she continued, "my daughter isn't some strumpet for you to use as you see fit and then leave when you're ready to move on!"
"Mother!" Ginny practically shrieked. "I've just finished telling you it's not like that at all!"
At the same time Harry said, "that's not how it is at all, Mrs. Weasley. If you'd just let me explain…"
"Harry," Ginny broke in, her eyes sparking at him and a warning note in her voice, "you don't owe her any explanations."
"Yes," Molly spoke over her daughter. "Please do explain. Explain to me why there are pictures of you and my daughter in Witch Weekly."
Harry wished he had a Time Turner so he could go back and start the day over. He had been much better off, he mused, back in bed remembering the park yesterday, and lunch, and strawberries… But he couldn't afford such pleasant thoughts now. He had to think of how he was going to manage to offer explanations to an outraged Molly, while at the same time revealing nothing that might set off an equally angry Ginny. He sighed. He knew he had a very fine line to walk.
"Mrs. Weasley, I had no idea those pictures were going to appear. I had no idea they even existed. I've just come back from the publisher's."
"Are they going to print a retraction?" asked Ginny.
Harry swallowed. "No," he admitted. "I couldn't get anywhere with them."
"If they refused to retract that article, then there must be some truth to it, mustn't there?" said Molly rather shrewdly. "Just what are your intentions toward my daughter?"
"Don't answer that, Harry. It's none of her business," Ginny put in quickly.
Molly turned back to Ginny. "It most certainly is my business. You're my daughter. I have the right to know if he's going to drag your name through the mud."
Harry wished he knew just what, exactly, he had done to make Molly think so badly of him. He knew the press had given him a reputation, but, he thought, Molly should know him better than that. Ever since his return to the wizarding world, Molly had treated him with a good deal less warmth than she had during his teenage years. He was certain there had to be more to it than just a few articles in Witch Weekly. "Mrs. Weasley, I would never drag Ginny's name through the mud. If anyone's done that, it's Witch Weekly." Harry looked over at Ginny and met her eyes before looking back at Molly. "I care a great deal about Ginny, and I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her."
Molly might well have been placated by this, if Hedwig, who up until now had passed unnoticed, hadn't chosen that unfortunate moment to hoot. All eyes turned towards her cage which had been placed on a small table by the window. Under the table in full view was a pair of Harry's shoes. Molly obviously saw them, for she said, "for someone who has no intention of dragging my daughter's name through the mud, you've certainly made yourself at home here, haven't you? I don't need to ask what your intentions are now, do I?"
Harry had no idea what he could possibly say to defuse the situation now. He thought he must look rather desperate. Ginny, however, must have decided to take the situation in hand. "Yes, Mother, that's right," she said. "Harry's moved in here with me. I could tell you he's been sleeping on the sofa, but I don't suppose you'll believe that, will you?"
Molly's face went completely white at this. She put a hand over her heart. Then she exploded. "Never," she spluttered. "Never in all my born days could I ever have imagined any daughter of mine behaving this way! Mark my words, Virginia Weasley, when your father hears about this, it will be the death of him!" Then she turned on her heel and stalked out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Harry and Ginny stared at each other for a moment, speechless. Then to Harry's surprise, Ginny turned around and kicked the wall. "She makes me so angry!" she shouted. "She comes in here and tells me how to live my life, tries to tell me who I can and can't see… I'm not ten years old anymore and she can't get that through her head…" She broke off, and took a deep breath. In a calmer voice she went on, "I'm sorry Harry. It's just that Mum and I haven't see things the same way for a long time. It isn't just the Witch Weekly photos, it's everything. This is just the latest in a long line of disagreements."
Harry walked over to Ginny and put his arms around her. "Tell me about it if you like." Ginny stood there a minute in his embrace. Harry felt her small hands creep around his waist, her arms tighten about him, and her head come to rest on his shoulder. Harry brought a hand to the back of her head and traced it down the fall of her hair. It was comforting to him to hold her like this, and he felt the last of his anger drain away. He heard her take one last, shaky breath before she broke away from him.
"I'll tell you in a bit. I haven't had a chance to eat anything yet, what with one thing and another." He followed her into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and waited while Ginny made herself some toast and brewed tea.
When the tea was ready, she set a mug of the steaming beverage in front of Harry and took a seat opposite him at the table. "Might as well get comfortable. This could take awhile," she said. She paused and considered, as she spread butter on a slice of toast. "I suppose my troubles with Mum all started with Ian…"
"Sorry," Harry broke in. "Who's Ian?"
"Oh, Ian Breakstone. I dated him seventh year."
"I don't seem to recall that name… I know he wasn't a Gryffindor."
"No, he was a Slytherin."
Harry gaped. "You dated a Slytherin?"
"Almost all of seventh year. They aren't all complete gits, you know."
Suddenly, Harry burst out laughing. "You rebel!"
Ginny looked up at him, amazed. "Yes, that's right," she said slowly. "That's exactly what I was doing, rebelling, but I didn't realise it right away. Of course, I knew my family wouldn't be too pleased with the situation, once they found out. And I was right, they weren't. At first. But then Mum insisted on meeting Ian, and she just adored him. Practically began planning the wedding then and there."
Harry was a bit shocked to learn that. "But you were only…"
"Eighteen by then," she finished with a wan smile. "Much too young, and certainly not in love. But Mum married Dad almost straight out of Hogwarts, and she'd got it in her head that I should do the same. Strangely enough, Ian lost a lot of his attraction for me after that, and I broke it off. I don't think Mum has ever forgiven me for that."
Harry realised he'd never known about all this because it had occurred during the time he'd been living as a Muggle. He wondered what else he might have missed.
Ginny took a sip of her tea, buttered another slice of toast and continued. "After that, Mum and I had all sorts of rows on a regular basis. I don't even remember what they were about. Stupid, inconsequential things, mostly. I was ready to move out of the Burrow, but I needed money to support myself. Dad got the job at the Ministry lined up for me, and I took it, because it meant I could move out more quickly than if I'd had to line something up on my own. And I knew I wanted to come and live here…"
She trailed off here and smiled a bit dreamily. Harry was fascinated. He'd never heard any of this before. "I used to walk by this house every time I came into Hogsmeade on weekends," she continued. "I always thought it was the loveliest little cottage, and I used to imagine who might live here. One day I sneaked around to have a look at the garden… I used to daydream in Herbology class about what I'd do with it if I lived here…
"So anyway," she said looking back at Harry, "once I'd got the job at the Ministry, I came up here and discovered this place was for rent, and I took it. Mum tried to talk me out of it. Hogsmeade was too far away. The rent was too much. I guess that part's true, but I've managed so far."
Harry wondered how she was going to continue to manage now that she'd lost her job. If Ginny was thinking along those lines, she didn't mention it. Instead, she said, "So now my mum has another excuse to row with me…"
"If it hadn't been for that damned article…" began Harry, his anger beginning to return.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry was amazed. "Sorry? What have you got to be sorry for?"
"It's just that I told you I could handle it, and I'm not handling it well at all…"
Harry wondered how she could possibly think that. In spite of her delicate appearance, he knew her to have an inner core of steel. He reached over and squeezed her hand, running his thumb over it. "Ginny, you're handling it just fine. I'm the one who's not handling it well. I went down to the publisher's to demand a retraction, and I'm sure I just gave him more material for next week's issue. How could either of us have known they'd find such, well, sensational photos…"
But Ginny cut him off. "Harry! The photos!"
"What about them?"
"Where did you put that copy of Witch Weekly? You took it with you when you walked out earlier."
Harry wondered what she was on about. "I think I might have left it in the living room. Why?"
Ginny did not answer. She got up and went into the living room. Harry, following, found her seated on the sofa, paging through the magazine. "Here," she said, as he sat down beside her. "Look."
She was pointing to the second photo. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to look at it again. For one thing, it made him angry to think that such a private moment should appear in print. For another, it made him think about kissing Ginny, and thinking about kissing her made him want to kiss her. He didn't think that now would be a particularly good time for that. Reluctantly, Harry looked.
"There," Ginny was saying, "do you see it?"
"See what?"
"There's no photo credit."
Harry still wasn't sure where all this was leading. He could see there was no credit now, but he didn't know why that might be important. Out of curiosity, he looked at the photo from the wedding and saw Colin Creevey's name under it. "I'm going to kill Creevey!" he cried, outraged.
Ginny placed a calming hand on his forearm. "No, Harry, that's not what's important at the moment!"
"Could you please explain to me what is then?" Harry finally asked, a bit exasperated.
"Well," Ginny began. "Who knew you were here that morning?"
"You mean besides your mother?"
"Well, yes, but I really don't think my mum was taking photos of us to send to Witch Weekly, given her reaction to them just now. Other than her, who knew you were here?"
Harry felt something prickle along his spine. "No one should have known I was here," he said slowly.
"Exactly. So who took this picture? Harry, I think whoever it was is watching this house."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Of course, she was right. Why had he stormed off to see Grey in such a fit of anger? If he'd thought about it, he could have demanded to know the identity of the photographer. Not, he thought upon reflection, that Grey would have been likely to tell him. He realised now that Grey had done a very good job of controlling the situation. No, that avenue of investigation was definitely out.
Harry looked at Ginny, who seemed to be waiting for an answer. "Yes, I think you're right. I have no idea if this is related to what's been happening at the Ministry, but I think we should see if your brothers have anything useful they could tell us."
"Fred and George tell us anything? Not very likely."
"It's worth a try."
Ginny was looking at him with wide eyes. "Harry, this is scary. First someone broke in here, then the files went missing, then someone sent me the Dark Mark, and now this. It's like a warning or something. But what are they trying to warn me about?"
Harry put his arms around her and hugged her close. "I have no idea, but I intend to find out."
A/N: Grey's line about blackmailing Mrs. Teal and her lover in Boulton is taken from Monty Python's "Blackmail Game" sketch.
Thanks to my betas and editor… If I didn't take your advice everywhere, my apologies. I tried to rewrite the beginning and it just wasn't working that way…