A Business Affair: The Supplement

*


“Now, while I’m on vacation, you’re in charge,” Hermione said, holding on tight to the folder in her hands as she spoke to her Head of Department. She was in her office at the Daily Prophet, reluctantly handing over their reigns for a week as she prepared to go on a much-needed vacation with Blaise and Jamie.

They were heading off to the South Pacific for a week of well-deserved relaxation. After the whole Harry and Draco getting together fiasco, they both felt they needed a break. Blaise had insisted they leave the country, saying he couldn’t take being in such a drab place anymore. He wanted sun and an ocean, so they’d decided on a small island near Fiji.

Now, Hermione had to do the awful task of delegating what was to happen in her absence. She was always paranoid about leaving the paper for lengthy amounts of time, even though it was only a week.

The man she was entrusting with it was John Dinder, one of the few remaining people from the time Rita Skeeter had worked for the paper. She didn’t completely trust him, but as he was the most experienced, he had priority choice to be the acting editor whenever she went out of town.

“Don’t worry, Hermione,” John said reaching out for the packet, which Hermione held onto tightly. “Everything’s going to be perfectly fine. I promise the paper will be exactly as you left it when you come back.”

Hermione hesitated, then held out the packet to his waiting hand. “Well, alright, but if you need me, you can always call. Here’s where we’re staying. It’s a magical resort, so it’s fine to use magic.”

John waved his hand and stood up. “Relax. Isn’t that what this vacation is about? Go on, Hermione. It’ll be fine.”

Hermione bit her lip as she glanced around her, mentally taking in the place of everything before she turned to John. “Okay, I’ll be back on Monday. See you then.”

After another pause, she Apparated out of the office, leaving John alone. He looked around, smiling to himself. He plopped down in her Editor’s chair and grinned.

A moment later, one of the reporters came into the room, looking around. The girl stopped. “Where’s Hermione?”

“She’s on holiday for a week,” John replied, sitting forward in the chair. “I’m in charge. What’s that you’ve got there, Grace?”

Grace hesitated, then handed it over. She had brought it to Hermione specifically to get her judgment on it before she went ahead and did any follow-up actions.

“I received it in the mail this morning,” she said as John flipped through the paper and hmm’d interestedly. “I wasn’t sure if we should do anything since you know who is involved. Hermione wouldn’t like it.”

“Who sent it?” John asked, folding up the parchment.

“It was anonymous,” Grace replied, watching as John held the parchment in his hands, tapping it thoughtfully.

He stopped as he realized she was watching him. “Yes, print it,” he said suddenly. “Do some follow-up research, get some pictures, talk to friends, family, etc.”

“But Hermione—“

“Hermione’s not here,” John interrupted. “This is more what the paper used to do, in the good ol’ days.”

Grace looked like she wanted to protest more but instead muttered, “Yes, sir,” and left the room.

John leaned back in the chair, his hands behind his head and sighed contentedly. Yes, the good old days. He thought fondly back on them and smiled. This was a story for the ages.

***

“Look at this.”

Draco looked up as a paper was slammed down in front of his cereal. He glanced up at Harry and down at the table.

“Well, shit,” he said.

Harry just stared at him. “That’s all you have to say?”

Draco said nothing and picked up the paper, looking at his photographic self as he pulled Harry to him, kissing him softly. The headline that took up most of the paper read, “Potter cheats on Spouse with Malfoy Heir: Desperate Plea for Help or Malicious Behavior?”

Draco looked up at Harry and sighed, grabbing him and pulling him down into a chair. “You knew it was going to happen.”

“How’d they find out?” Harry asked, staring at the picture. “How did it get in the paper? Hermione wouldn’t have printed that.”

“She’s on holiday, remember?” Draco pointed out, taking back the paper and beginning to skim the article.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “That slimy Head of Department, John what’s-his-face. I never liked him. I’m going to kill him!”

“Stop,” Draco said calmly, grabbing Harry’s arm as he attempted to rise from his chair. He was pulled down rather reluctantly and crossed his arms angrily, fuming at the paper. “Says here you left your wife for Malfoy, that wealthy playboy from Westminster.”

“It doesn’t say that,” Harry said, reaching for the paper, but Draco pulled it away.

“Would you rather I tell you what they think of you?”

Harry paused. “No,” he said finally. “But how did they find out? Who would tell them? Or have the press been following me around again? I told them not to do that.”

“You’re so trusting, Harry,” Draco said, leaning over and kissing him softly, taking no note when Harry just sat there dumbly. “You can’t think of anyone who would want this splashed all over the front page?”

Harry was silent as he thought for a moment, then, “Ginny!”

Draco nodded. “Ginny.”

“But, that would reveal her affair too, wouldn’t it?” he asked.

“Not if she was this anonymous source,” Draco said, pointing to a passage in the paper. “’An anonymous source tells us that Potter has been cheating on his wife for nearly five months.’ Well, she’s wrong, it was six months. She can’t count.”

“Wait,” Harry said, pulling the paper from Draco. “Ginny’s in here. No, here she is, telling them what a shock it was and how she doesn’t understand why I did it. That’s such bullshit. She’s the anonymous and she’s in it.”

“We always knew she had a jealous streak in her,” Draco said blandly. “Always wanted a bit more of your fame, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. He set down the paper, feeling tired. He had known that eventually it would get out, but merely a few weeks after the fact, he hadn’t expected it so soon.

So far, he’d been happy with Draco. He’d moved in with him, sneaking back for his possessions when Ginny was out. He’d hired a lawyer for the divorce but things were moving slowly on that front. Ginny refused to sign the papers.

Harry took a drink of his tea and sighed again. He was not looking forward to what this meant; more publicity, photographers following him around. Harry had a sudden flashback of Colin Creevey with his big camera shoved in his face.

“Oh God, what are we going to do?” Harry moaned, putting his head in his arms on the table.

He was lifted up by Draco, who was gripping his arms. “Get a grip, Harry. It won’t be that bad. Eventually, the press will get tired of it. We’re not that interesting.”

Harry didn’t look convinced but made a sign of understanding. Draco sighed and let go of his arms, scooting closer. “Don’t worry. It can’t go on forever.” He leaned forward, pulling Harry into a deep kiss.

Harry opened his mouth to Draco’s tongue, feeling it slip inside. He felt Draco bite his lower lip and smiled slightly. They broke apart, though, as a sudden flash lit up the dining room of Draco’s Manor.

Draco stood up quickly, striding over to the window, his wand in hand.

“Hey!” he yelled at two men who were hiding in the flower bushes. “This is private property. Get out of here before I call the dogs!”

The two men looked frightened and Apparated away in a crack. Draco turned away from the window, pulling down the blinds and huffing.

“Draco,” Harry said, “you don’t have any dogs.”

“They don’t know that,” Draco said simply. “Besides, I can think of things much worse than dogs to have guarding the house.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Like an angry Weaselette. She’d scare off anyone.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry muttered. “And I don’t think this will be over quickly. Forever seems like a very long time.”

Draco smiled sadly and ran a hand over Harry’s cheek as he sat back down in his chair. “Yes, it does.”

***

“Potter! Mr. Potter!” Harry huffed as he shoved his way through the cloud of reporters swarming around him as he tried to get to the Quidditch stadium for practice. “Is it true you’ve been having an affair with Draco Malfoy for the past six months?!”

Harry didn’t answer, only scowled as he elbowed his way through the reporters and photographers that snapped a picture every five seconds.

“How does it feel to know you’ve slighted your wife this way? Have you talked to her at all? What drove you to have an affair with Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Potter!”

Harry growled angrily as he finally made it to the door of the changing room.

“Mr. Potter! Will you give your side of the story? Are you glad for what you did? Are you getting a divorce? When will you announce it publicly? Does Mr. Malfoy have anything to say about this?”

Harry turned around at the door, his expression murderous and he opened his mouth to give the reporters a piece of his mind but found a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Sorry, folks,” came the voice of Oliver Wood behind Harry. “But this is a closed practice. Go squander your lives on some other celebrity.”

Then Oliver pushed Harry into the changing room and shut the door behind him, setting a special locking charm they hadn’t used for years. He let go of Harry’s mouth and pushed him forward.

Harry was still fuming. “I hate reporters!” he exclaimed, stomping ahead of Oliver.

“Well, I had to stop you killing one,” Oliver said. “That would be even bigger news I suppose than you and Malfoy.”

Harry rolled his eyes and wrenched open the door to the locker room. The rest of the team turned quickly at the noise and fell silent, watching him. Harry scoffed.

“That’s right, have a go at me too. Everyone else has. Yes, I’m dating Draco, yes, I cheated on Ginny. Yes, we are getting a divorce if she would just sign the damn papers. Are we all happy now?”

The room was silent for a moment then Tara spoke up. “It’s okay, Harry. We believe you. Those reporters are idiots.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling rather stupid. “Thanks.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and stepped forward. “Go change, Harry, and we’ll start practice. This doesn’t change anything. If any of you get bombarded by the press, it’s best to keep quiet and don’t say anything, not that it’s a big likelihood since there’s not much to tell anyhow. Alright, Harry, meet us out there.”

Harry nodded and let out a breath. He waited until the rest of the team had filtered out before changing into his uniform. It had been like this for the past three days, ever since the original publication of the article in the Prophet. Now, other newspapers had grabbed hold of the story.

Harry noticed that Ginny was never too far off when the article was written. She always had some sad story to tell about what he’d done and how she was now. She always seemed to be just struggling by, telling her sob story of how he’d left her with nothing.

Harry refused to give interviews to the paper, knowing they would only spin it in a different light. Even though it had been years since Voldemort’s death, the public always loved to see him down on his luck rather than happy.

“Harry?”

Harry was startled out of his musings by a voice at the door. He glanced up from where he’d been tying his shoes to see Michael standing in the doorway.

Michael pushed himself off the frame and came closer. “I guess I need to apologize,” he said.

“What?” Harry asked, turning back to his shoe. “What for?”

“I kind of had a hand in it.”

“In what?” Harry asked, looking back at him.

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “I only dated Ginny to break you two up.”

“What?” Harry asked, not sure he’d heard correctly.

“But it was so you and Draco could get together.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said.

“To make a long story short,” Michael said, “I was manipulating Ginny to make you and Draco happy. And when I told her, she wasn’t very happy, and determined to make you pay. I suppose this is her way. So, I’m sorry.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He’d been wondering about Michael for the past few weeks, trying to figure it all out, but hadn’t been able to. What he was saying almost made sense.

“I had no idea,” he said slowly.

“Well, you weren’t supposed to, were you?” Michael said, moving to Harry’s side. “But I hope you can forgive me for my part. I didn’t mean for this press thing to happen.”

“Obviously you don’t know Ginny that well,” Harry said bitterly and Michael laughed.

“I guess not. So we’re okay?”

Harry looked at him for a second, placing his foot back on the ground and standing up straight. He paused, then held out his hand. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

Michael grinned and shook his hand, then together, they went out to the pitch.

***
“Go away!” Draco shouted as he slammed the door in the face of half a dozen reporters. He sighed heavily and turned to the living room where Harry was sitting on the couch.

Harry glanced at him forlornly. “How long has it been?”

“Six days,” Draco said grumpily. “Granger better come back soon.”

He hung up his coat and soon joined Harry on the couch, flopping down on it with a tired sigh. Harry snuggled closer, resting his head on Draco’s chest.

“Are you sure I’m not allowed to AK them?” Draco asked suddenly.

Harry laughed. “Not unless you want to spend your life in Azkaban.”

“It’s not so bad,” Draco said. “They don’t have dementors anymore.”

“No, but I bet they’d put Ginny in there just to torture us.”

Draco shuddered. “Don’t speak of such things, Potter.”

Harry sighed, resting his hand on Draco’s thigh and rubbing lightly. “And here I thought you’d like a little publicity.”

“Hey, I’m not your soon to be evil ex-wife,” Draco said, running his hand through Harry’s soft hair. “I don’t enjoy being trampled by photographers. They mess up my hair.”

Harry laughed again. “Of course. I should have known. You’re so much better than she was, Draco.”

Draco looked down at him and smiled. “I ought to be. I’m a Malfoy.”

Harry grinned as Draco kissed him. He slid his arms around Draco’s neck and moaned softly as Draco’s tongue slid in his mouth massaging his own as he nipped Harry’s lower lip.

Harry pulled away after a moment and rested his forehead against Draco’s. “What if they don’t go away?” he asked, glancing at the window, through which he could see the outline of people through the curtains.

Draco sighed, sitting back against the couch, Harry curled against him. “They will, and if they don’t, I’ll make them.”

Harry smiled softly and moved closer. He hoped Draco was right.

***

Hermione Apparated into work Monday morning bright and early. She felt refreshed, ready to start again, free from all the secrets of before. She was tanned and happy. The week had been just what she needed, time away from the world to enjoy her life and her family.

As she walked through the office, she noticed there were more people than usual running around. She wondered at this but shrugged it off. Better work ethic was always a good thing in her opinion.

As she reached the door to her office, she was stopped by a voice calling her name.

“Hermione!”

She turned around to see one of her top reporters, Grace Harders, coming towards her, looking worried.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

“Thank gods you’re back!” Grace said, throwing her arms around her, then quickly realizing what she was doing, she backed away immediately, clearing her throat and standing up straighter.

Hermione was perplexed. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Grace looked uneasy. “You’re not going to like it.” She led Hermione over to her desk and picked up a copy of the Prophet, handing it to Hermione. Hermione’s eyes widened as she skimmed the cover. “I wanted to show it to you, but you’d already gone on vacation and Jo—“

“JOHN!” Hermione shouted, interrupting Grace mid-sentence. She turned from Grace, the paper clutched in her fist. “Where is John?” she demanded of the staff.

A few pointed carefully to the back room where employees sometimes sat and talked. Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she stalked in that direction, the paper still crumpled in her hand. She burst into the room, startling all those inside. A few spilt tea all over themselves in their surprise.

Hermione’s eyes traveled around the room, looking for John. They found him in an armchair, surrounded by a few people.

“What is this?” Hermione asked in a low, dangerous voice, brandishing the paper at John.

John stared at her for a second, then glanced around him, as though looking for help, but no one came to his aide. He looked back at Hermione. “It’s a good story,” he said, sounding more like he hoped to convince her of that.

Hermione was not pleased. She walked over, slamming the paper down on the table in front of him. “This is not a good story. This is gossip, something I have tried to rid this paper of in the last three years, John. What authority do you have to publish something so invasive of someone’s privacy in my paper?”

The other people in the room had begun edging out of it but Hermione paid them no attention. Her eyes were fixed on John, who was fidgeting in his chair.

“The story came to me and I took the initiative to get the paper more readers,” John said finally.

“You are attracting the kind of readers Rita Skeeter would be proud of,” Hermione said. “And where is Rita now, John? Last I heard, she was hunting Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the mountains of Peru, hoping to write an article for the Quibbler. Is that what you’d like to do in your future?”

John didn’t respond, but avoided Hermione’s glare. Hermione sighed, standing up straight and calming herself.

“I left you in charge of the paper and you’ve failed me. I’m afraid that I can’t let this happen again. You are no longer Head of the Department, John. You will be allowed to stay on at the paper in a smaller capacity, should you choose, but you will no longer have this responsibility.”

She turned then and left the room, coming out to the staff that was waiting anxiously. She looked round at them all. “Everyone, stop reporting on the Potter-Malfoy story. I will not have this paper reduced to the kind of gossip column it once was.” She waited a moment as conversation arose and everyone dispersed. “Grace,” she said, calling to the young woman who was still standing by her office. She walked over to her. “I’d like to thank you for your judgment call, and tell you that the Head of Department position is now available, if you would like it.”

Grace looked shocked for a moment but after a second, smiled. “I would love it, thank you.”

Hermione smiled at her, then went to her office, unlocking the door and heading inside, hoping now that maybe the other papers would follow her lead.

***

“Is it over yet?” Harry groaned. He was lying in his back on the couch, watching Draco, who was peeking out the window.

“They’re still out there,” he said, “like vultures circling something dead.”

“At least no one from the Prophet’s there,” Harry said, trying to find a bright spot.

Draco sighed and turned from the window. “And I’m still not allowed to kill them?”

Harry hesitated. “I dunno, it seems awfully tempting.”

Draco laughed and came over to Harry’s side, looking down at him. “I can’t believe I’m still with you after all this.”

“Huh?” Harry asked.

“Those reporters are insane. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“I’ve locked myself in this house with you until they go away,” Harry said. “It’s more like hiding than standing it.”

Draco dropped to his knees so he was the same height as Harry. “You know, when we started this, I never thought we’d be here, hiding from the press in my manor, hating the Weaselette together.”

Harry shifted, turning towards him. “What did you think would happen?”

“Well, I didn’t plan on falling in love with you for one.”

“Wait, what?” Harry asked, pushing himself up. “What did you say?”

Draco paused for a second, then smiled. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought he would ever hear Draco say it. So far, it had been kind of an unspoken thing between them.

“Well, just let me sit here like an idiot,” Draco said when Harry was silent for more than a minute.

“No, no!” Harry shouted, pulling Draco down by the arm as he started to get up. “I love you too.”

Draco sighed in relief and grinned. “Good.” Then he kissed Harry, softly and slowly. When he pulled away, he smiled softly. “How long do you think reporters can last with dragons on their asses?”

Harry paused, looking uneasy. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Draco said, smirking and kissing Harry again, ignoring the sounds of fire and yelling from outside his front door.


~~**~~

A/N:Only one more, and then ABA will be over forever. I hope, lol. Please, don't let me write a sequel, haha, then it'll never end :) In the meantime, please review!