Draco flipped the last of the scrambled eggs onto his own plate. "Alright, is that it? Do either of you two want anything else?" He turned to look at Harry and Fiona as they sat at the dining table, chowing on the pancakes and eggs that Draco had prepared.
Harry shrugged, "I wouldn't say no to some filet mignon. Oh, creme brulee would be excellent as well."
Draco rolled his eyes and threw a dishtowel at him, ignoring his request. Harry ducked his head in order to avoid it, and it went sailing over his head. He shot Fiona a grin, who smiled in turn.
"What about you, Fiona. Anything else you want?" Draco asked the girl, in a much gentler and less exasperated voice than he used to deal with Harry.
She shook her head, "No thank you."
Draco flicked off the burner and carried his plate over to the table. He sat down next to his partner who was reading The Daily Prophet. The two of them had made a habit of pocking fun at the newspaper and used it as a sense of comedy to start the morning.
Harry frowned when he read the headlines. He got out of his seat and swiftly tossed the paper into the trashcan.
Draco raised his eyebrows, "Everything alright?" He asked. He could tell that Harry was struggling to control his anger.
Harry nodded and glanced at Fiona, who wasn't paying attention to the man. "Yeah, I just have a few choice words I'd like to say to Rita Skeeter."
Draco narrowed his eyes, that woman drove him up the wall, the way that she always stuck her nose into everyone's business. Even though he and Harry let most of the things she said roll off their backs, there were certain things that were off limits and by the look that Harry gave him, he figured that this one had to do with Fiona.
It amazed him that after all these years, that woman was still sticking her nose into their business and writing stories on the two of them. He'd think that the woman would have an ounce of sympathy for them, as the woman had come out as Pansexual a few years before. However, this fact seemed to only further interest her in the couple. Anyway, she could twist around their words or just outright lie, she would. The Chosen One and the Death Eater, there was no bigger scandal in her mind. At least once a month they'd see their names in her headlines.
He used to get so angry about it, but eventually, he learned to stop caring as much. He gave up hope that she would stop writing about the two of them. Instead, they turned to it as a source of laughter. They tried not to let her words get to them anymore, but this was different. It wasn't about them, it was about a child who had gone through too much already at her young age. It was about his daughter.
He clenched his jaw and shook his head. He didn't say anything, knowing that the moment he opened his mouth words would fly out that wasn't for young ears like Fiona's to hear. He pushed The Daily Prophet to the back of his mind. He'd have to deal with that later.
"Fiona what all do you want to look for today?" He said, drawing his attention back to the girl.
"Clothes Books? Toys? What do you want?" Harry asked when Draco didn't receive an answer.
"Yes." Fiona said, "That sounds nice."
"Okay, good. If you're done eating, do you want to go upstairs and get ready? We can leave whenever you want."
She nodded and pushed herself out of her chair. She went to pick up her plate, but Draco stopped her. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it. You can go get ready." He said, picking up the plate and putting it in the sink.
When they could no longer hear Fiona's footsteps going upstairs, Draco pulled the newspaper out of the garbage bin.
"No don't look at that," Harry said, leaping out of the seat. He pulled it away from Draco, "Really, I wouldn't recommend reading it. It'll only make you cross."
"I'll read the damned paper if I want to." Draco snatched it from his hands, "I'll find out about it anyway."
"Language." Harry reminded him, "Better get into the rhythum of saying 'darn,' 'fudge,' and 'golly.'"
He rolled his eyes and opened up the paper. The headline read "The Chosen One and Draco Malfoy Take in Broken Child." Draco gripped the paper so hard that his knuckles began to turn white. He didn't want to read on any further, it was enough that they had called her "broken." Broken, as if she was some inanimate object and not a living, breathing human.
"That's only the beginning." Harry whispered, "That's the good part." He gently reached over and took the paper out of Draco's hands once again, who let him this time.
"Why does she get off on writing about people's personal lives? This girl has gone through so much, and now everyone knows. Everyone's going to treat her just as the headling does as if she's broken. It'll be years before everyone forgets about this. Maybe people will still remember in five years when she'll be at school. This isn't the time of thing you can write a story about, this affects her life, a six-year-old kid." Draco said, his eyes welling up with tears. He wasn't sure if he was crying because he was angry or because of what Fiona had been through.
Harry wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him close to him. "She'll be okay." He whispered, "We'll make sure of it. I'm sure most other people will have more sympathy that Rita Skeeter does. Plus, you forget that we already have a mini army of people who will gladly hex anyone who hurts her."
Draco let out a small chuckle, "I'd hate to get in their way. Some of them are outright terrifying." He sniffled and buried his face into Harry's shoulder.
"That they are." Harry kissed the top of his head. "As much as I hate to remind you of this, we're going shopping today, okay? I'll clean up the dishes, why don't you go finish getting ready. I'm guessing you're not done doing your hair because you have a wicked case of bedhead. It's even worse than mine."
"That's not possible," Draco said, pulling away from him. He quickly kissed him and hurried upstairs, leaving Harry to clean take care of the dishes.
Harry watched the man leave, sighing to himself. He gripped the newspaper in his hand and tore it to pieces and shoving them into the garbage bin. He rubbed his hand on his forehead, urging himself to forget about what the newspaper had said. He was angry, but for a different reason than Draco. Yes, he was angry that the woman had the audacity to write about a child's personal life, but her parents... He wasn't sure how much of what Rita Skeeter had written was true, but the very idea of the abuse angered him.
McGonagall hadn't told them much about Fiona's childhood. Of course, she had told him that the girl had been abused by her parents and that the reason they caught them was a squib had seen her mother hexing her through the window. However, she had never said anything other than that. Maybe the woman hadn't even known herself to what extent the abuse went to. How would Rita Skeeter had known then? What sources would have told her this?
He looked up as he heard Fiona come downstairs. He would make sure that today would be a good day, for her. He beamed a her as he washed the dishes. "Are you ready to go shopping?"