Part Five
Smile, You're In Witch Weekly
Harry and Draco hadn’t left Malfoy Manor so much as once since moving in back in June. They entertained themselves with long days in the sun, swimming in the pool and playing Quidditch, either just the two of them or with their friends. Ron had stared wide-eyed at the Manor the first time he had come to visit and Harry doubted that he’d gotten over it yet. Hermione had taken it in a stride; apparently, she’d read about Malfoy Manor as it was mentioned in one of her many books. No one was particularly surprised.
The house-elves prepared superb meals on the nights when Harry and Draco didn’t feel like cooking themselves. That was, however, a past time that Harry thought was quite a lot of fun – especially watching Draco as he worked. Draco thought of cooking as potions making; he followed the recipes precisely and the meals turned out amazing.
At night – and sometimes during the day – they cuddled or had sex or enjoyed long talks and the romantic walks under the moon. The Manor was perfectly safe to move around, thanks to the many wards surrounding it.
Still, after three weeks of nothing but the Manor, Harry began to feel trapped.
“Trapped?” Draco asked when he brought it up. They were sitting outside, by the small lake that was next to the Quidditch pitch.
“I think ‘trapped’ is the wrong word,” Harry said quickly. “It sounds so negative and I’m not— I like being here. I really do. But I—”
“— need to get out,” Draco filled in for him. He nodded. “I was waiting for it.”
“You were?” Harry asked. “I thought you liked being here. It’s your home, after all.”
Draco smiled slightly at Harry. “It’s my home, yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend too much time. Besides, there are bad memories linked to this place.”
Harry frowned at him; Draco hadn’t told him about this before. “Bad memories?”
Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Now, if you’re feeling trapped, then the best way to solve that would be to actually leave this place. Where do you want to go?”
Harry’s frown deepened for a moment as he recognised Draco’s change of subject, but then he decided to let it be for now. He smiled softly at Draco. “I want to take you out on a real date.”
“A real date?” Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
Harry nodded. “We never got to do the real dating-thing while we were at Hogwarts. It was all just broom closets and dusty old classrooms. It wasn’t really my idea of a great, romantic time.”
“It worked for me,” Draco said, smirking. “And it usually worked for you, too.”
Harry grinned at Draco’s innuendo. He was getting more and more comfortable with it; before, he’d blushed like a virgin every time Draco so much as mentioned sex.
“Anyway,” Harry said pointedly, “I’d like to take you out to a nice restaurant somewhere – perhaps even take you to a Muggle movie theatre. What do you say?”
Draco smiled. “I say yes.”
The next night, Draco had booked a table at a fine French restaurant that he’d been to before and Harry had bought tickets for the movie they were going to see. He knew that Draco would be amazed with it no matter what they saw; he had never been to a Muggle cinema before. Harry was looking forward to seeing his reaction to it.
At five thirty, Harry and Draco Apparated to Diagon Alley. They’d agreed that it was the easiest way to get to London as taking the train would take far too long and Apparating straight into Muggle London was far too risky. Harry only hoped that they wouldn’t be mobbed once they arrived. Both used light altering charms so that they wouldn’t be too easily recognised, but they both knew that Draco’s platinum locks and Harry’s scar would give them away if anyone bothered to give them more than a glance.
Harry was excited. He and Draco began making their way towards The Leaky Cauldron. Many of the stores were closing and as such, there weren’t that many people. Harry and Draco were thankful.
“Oh my goodness, that’s Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!”
Harry’s head snapped up at the exclamation in search of the person who’d uttered the words. He found several pairs of eyes on him, surprised and pleased.
A flash bulb went off, nearly blinding Harry.
“Come on, Harry, we need to get to The Leaky Cauldron,” Draco said, pulling Harry along. Harry nodded dazedly, following. The crowd suddenly seemed much more compact as people came closer to take a look at them and see if it really was Harry Potter and his boyfriend, the former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy.
“Mr. Potter, what is your business in Diagon Alley?”
Harry looked up to see someone with a quill and parchment, the quill rapidly writing.
Draco pulled him along before he even had a chance to think about replying. “Be quiet, don’t say a word to them, all right?”
Harry nodded.
“Mr. Potter, is it true that you are currently staying at Malfoy Manor?”
Harry wondered about the stupidity of certain reporters – he’d been seen entering Malfoy Manor and hadn’t been seen since; what was the chance of him not staying at the Manor?
“Mr. Malfoy, were you really a Death Eater?”
“Mr. Potter, why have you chosen not to comment on your relationship with Mr. Malfoy?”
They seemed to be multiplying by the second. Harry noticed reporters Apparating to the site and he held back a groan. Draco pushed forward through the crowd with Harry’s hand in an iron grip.
“Mr. Malfoy, will you be present at the Death Eater trials?”
“Mr. Potter, how does it feel to finally have killed Voldemort?”
“Mr. Potter, what are you going to do now that you are out of Hogwarts?”
“Where are you going tonight?”
“Is your relationship serious?”
Harry stopped listening. Draco pulled him through the hole in the wall into The Leaky Cauldron. Several reporters and photographers followed, eagerly questioning them and taking pictures. They had to stop, however, when Harry and Draco exited the inn since Harry and Draco were clad in Muggle clothes and the reporters were not.
Harry took a deep breath once they were a block away from The Leaky Cauldron. “I didn’t think we’d make it out of there alive.”
Draco smiled slightly at him and then bent in and kissed him. “Well, you did. Let’s get to dinner now.”
Harry nodded and they waved for a cab to take them to the French restaurant.
“But how do the people get on the screen? And just do the same things all the time? Without any free will?”
Harry smiled at Draco’s string of questions. “Muggles have this thing called a video camera,” he said. “It’s like a normal camera, but instead of getting a single moment in time, it captures everything that’s going on, for however long the video camera is on.”
Draco frowned. “I still don’t understand it. How can they just do the same thing all the time? You said if we see the same ‘movie’ again, it will look exactly the same. How?”
Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I think it’s better if I got you a book on how a video camera works. I can’t explain it.”
Draco looked as though he was still deep into trying to figure out how the people could be stuck on the big screen.
They came closer to The Leaky Cauldron and Harry took a deep breath. “Ready to face the wolves?”
Draco stirred from his thoughts and instantly, his look became serious. “Yes, let’s go.”
As soon as they could be seen under the light of the streetlights, they saw flashbulbs go off from inside the inn. Harry held back a groan; he’d hoped against hope that the reporters and photographers would have given up by now.
“You know, Harry,” Draco said thoughtfully, “we’re wizards. Why don’t we act like it?”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“I mean that we couldn’t Apparate to the restaurant because we didn’t know how the surroundings looked – but nothing is stopping us from Apparating to the Manor. As long as you hold onto me, you’ll be able to Apparate inside the wards.”
A slow smile spread over Harry’s lips. “You’re a genius.”
Draco smirked. “I do my best.”
When Harry woke up the next morning, Draco had already gotten up. This wasn’t unusual; Draco was a morning person and often did laps in the pool before breakfast. Harry got out of bed and looked out the window and there he was, swimming back and forth in the large pool. His body looked so graceful in the water.
Harry walked downstairs and began preparing breakfast. As he stood there, George appeared in the room.
“You’ve received mail, sir,” said the butler.
Harry looked at him curiously. “So, do you have it?”
George looked indecisively at Harry. “No, it is all collected in the second living room.”
“Why would the mail need to be ‘collected’ and why in the second living room?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“There is— quite a lot of mail, sir,” said George.
Harry was beginning to get a very bad feeling about it. He followed George to the second living room and his jaw dropped as he looked into the room. On the floor was a flood of letters up to Harry’s knees and more owls kept coming into the room with letters tied to them.
“My— what’s all this?” Harry asked.
“It began coming at the beginning of summer,” George said, “when you and Master Draco arrived home. Most of the mail has, however, arrived with today’s mail. It appears that you and Master Draco’s excursions yesterday is now in an extra edition of Witch Weekly, on the front page of The Daily Prophet and in every other major and minor newspaper and magazine in Britain, if not Europe.”
Harry stared at the masses of mail. He tried to form a coherent sentence, but his brain wouldn’t work. “Wha— why?”
George the Butler looked at the floor. “It appears the Wizarding world is divided on whether to support your relationship with Master Draco or not.”
“They don’t have anything to do with our relationship!” Harry said.
“They think they do.”
Harry turned around to see Draco standing behind them. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist and Harry swallowed. Draco ran a hand through his still-wet hair and winced as he looked at the flood of letters.
“I thought we’d get responses, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” he said.
“You expected this?” Harry asked.
“With how many letters we’ve gotten since the beginning of the summer, yes,” Draco said.
“Why didn’t you tell me we were receiving letters? Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry asked, accusingly.
Draco looked away from Harry. “I just didn’t want you to worry about what the rest of the world thinks of you. You do that enough anyway.” He turned to George, closing the subject though Harry was still annoyed. “George, have the House Elves sort the mail into three groups – negative, positive and personal letters. Bring the personal letters to us and then we’ll go through the positive and negative letters later.”
George nodded and Draco turned and left. More owls kept flying in.
George brought them the letters and Harry opened the first one. He could tell it was from Hermione; it had her neat handwriting on the large envelope. He opened it to find a copy of Witch Weekly – Special Harry Potter Edition as well as a personal note from his friend.
Harry winced as he looked at the picture of him and Draco kissing in the alley after they thought they’d gotten away from the reporters and photographers; they obviously hadn’t. Flipping through the magazine, Harry realised that a photographer – or several – had followed them through the night; there were pictures of them during dinner, walking to the cinema, laughing and cuddling during the movie and pictures of them just before they’d Apparated back to the Manor. Mixed in were pictures of Harry and Draco during their years at Hogwarts; the official family photo of the Malfoys, the promotional shoot Harry had been forced to do after defeating Voldemort and pictures of them playing Quidditch.
Harry suppressed a groan.
‘Harry,
I thought you’d want to see this. I’m sure you’ve already received quite a lot of mail about it – just know that your friends are here for you, both of you, as always. If you need us, we’re just a Floo call away.
Love,
Hermione’
Harry smiled slightly at Hermione’s note, feeling warmed by her words. He looked over at Draco, who was reading a letter of his own.
“Who’s it from?” Harry asked.
“Severus,” Draco said, fighting back a grin. “He has quite a vocabulary, that man, especially when it comes to things he doesn’t like.”
Harry chuckled. “At least it lightens the day a bit.”
Draco nodded, putting down the letter. “You’re not too upset about this, are you?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I think I’m mostly just annoyed.”
“Good,” Draco said. “Well, not good that you’re annoyed, but good that you’re not angry or upset – because it won’t help.”
“I know that,” Harry said. “That’s why hearing that Snape is upset about it is entertaining; it takes my mind off thinking about whether I should be angry about it or not.”
“That’s Professor Snape to you,” Draco corrected with a superior look at Harry. Harry giggled and Draco smiled at him. “There you go. Giggling is good.”
“I didn’t giggle!” Harry said indignantly, knowing full well that he had.
“You so did,” Draco taunted him. “You giggled like a school girl.”
“You’re going to take that back!” Harry shouted at him, moving closer to Draco like a predator that has chosen its victim.
“Nu-uh,” Draco said. “Not gonna.”
Then the tickling fight began and for now, all the problems with Witch Weekly were forgotten as they rolled around on the grass. Somewhere along the line, the tickling turned into kissing and the world disappeared around the two. Over their heads, owls kept flying into the second living room, delivering letter after letter to the House Elves that divided them into groups, but Harry and Draco couldn’t care less. They knew that, whatever the storm may bring, they would be able to weather it out.
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