"Potter!"

Harry paused, key still in the ignition. It would be rude to ignore Malfoy. It was about putting the past behind them. They were on the same team now.

"What?" Harry opened the door and the car immediately started beeping at him to close it. He leaned out and saw Malfoy, dressed in a damp shirt and jeans, jogging across the Cannon's car park.

Sighing, he got out the car and leant against the side. He didn't bother to close the door, it would hopeful serve to show Malfoy what a damn inconvenience he was.

Harry tensed as Malfoy reached level with him, and then tensed even further when the stupid git invaded his personal bubble. "Malfoy, what –"

"Merlin Potter, you are such an idiot!" Malfoy reached out, quick as a Bludger, and snatched Harry's hand, curling a tight grip around his thumb to hold him still. He tilted Harry's hand, moving it in the light and examining the skin on the back of his hands. Blue veins, bone and flesh. "Well it looks all healed, but for Salazar's sake, next time a Bludger goes towards you, how about swooping out the way, not trying to bat it away with your hand! This hand needs to catch us the Snitch against the Hollyhead Harpies!"

Harry snatched his hand away and shoved at Malfoy's chest, forcing him to back up a step. "Thanks Malfoy. You know, most people send 'get well' cards."

"Most people are idiots, and so are you." replied Malfoy, smirking easily. Harry, on reflection, felt that Malfoy hadn't quite understood what Coach's warning about their equanimity had meant. He was sure it would have involved less insults.

"So, other than to remind me my hand isn't a Beater's bat, is there anything else you wanted?"

"A lift would be good," said Malfoy, eyeing up Harry's car with fever. "Father never let me near one when I was younger. Are they like tents inside? It looks awfully small! How do you make it go? Do all Muggles drive these? Do children get miniature ones? Do –"

Malfoy was a natterer.

"Oh my god, get in and shut up."

"Thanks Potter," Malfoy smiled easily like his blabbering annoyance had all been part of a perfect plan for a hitch from the beginning.

Harry watched the idiot get into the car and then climbed in himself, the beeping finally falling silent.

"So…did you see Antony's birthmark in the showers today?"

Harry pressed his forehead against the steering wheel.

Harry was rudely awoken by Ginny, slapping him across the face with the Daily Prophet, rolled up into a handy weapon projectile. "Oi, wake up, you lazy fucker!" she smacked him again and Harry, quickly loosing the haze of sleep, grabbed a pillow for a shield.

"Merlin's balls, did you not think I would find out?" thwap, thwap, thwap! "You were supposed to take the bins out last night! We're going to have rubbish piling up in the garden for another week, get up and take them out before collection comes. Wake up!"

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" yelled Harry, muffled through the feathers. He peeked round the pillow and prompted got smacked on the nose with the Prophet again. "Fuck's sake, Gin!"

She dropped her weapon in his lap and turned tail.

Harry laid there for a few seconds, his face throbbing lightly at his wife's attack and listened to the noise of the house.

Albus was voicing his protests against 'bath day' and Lily was crying in the kitchen, and Harry couldn't quite hear where James was in the house which was never a good sign. He could smell bacon sitting in the pan and Ginny's perfume left in her wake. And the faint sound of the bin men coming down the road.

"Fuck!" he climbed out of bed, quickly tried to locate his trousers, snatching up the rolled-up newspaper from the bed as he went.

They were, after all, in a recycling borough!

Harry fell out the backdoor of the kitchen and was pleased to note James was playing quietly by himself with a pack of Exploding Snap cards on the back lawn. Not being able to conceive anything too mischievous about that, he sent his son a fond look which went unnoticed, and headed toward the bins.

Ever since the kids arrived, and the presence of nappies had entered their lives – "eww, why is it green?" – all bins had been banished from the house and resided in the back garden. Both he and Ginny had become experts at opening the kitchen window and aiming a steaming nappy out towards the bins. Both wheelie bins had their flappy lids charmed to open when something went sailing near it; James had lost a football that way and Pig always got blasted by the uprising stench if he tried to deliver post to them at breakfast time.

As Harry stepped over to them, he tucked the unread newspaper into his back pocket and pinched his nose as he approached. It made no difference, the updraft was too great, and he quickly felt bile rising in his throat. He'd made a deal with Ginny a while ago that she did all the nappy changing if he chucked the bins out every week. However, he wasn't sure if he was getting the worse end of that deal now that his nostrils were once again filled with the delightful smell of Eau d'Lily, concentrated.

Quickly reaching in and tying the bags, he hauled them out and held them delicately at arm's length and made his way around to the front of the house.

He was forced inhaled a large gulp of that unfortunate stench when he was met with eighty cameras flashing at him and a million questions assaulted his ears.

"Mr Potter!"

"Harry!"

"Can you tell us –"

"Are the rumours true? Did – "

"What did your wife think now that she knows –"

"Who will have custody of the children? Are you –"

Harry stared at the sea of paparazzi camped on his front garden in absolute horror, not really noticing the bin men driving their lorry past his house in the background. He dropped the bags and pulled The Prophet out of his back pocket, ripping off the string that held it closed.

It fell open to the front page and he stared at the photo and headline in horror.

"Mister Potter! Can you make a statement about your lover?"

By Luna Lovegood

Two of the Cannons stars were photographed outside the team's training facilities getting intimate. In it, we see Malfoy holding hands ever so tenderly with teammate Harry Potter while leaning against a car. We should note that Potter is married with children, and Malfoy has been linked to socialite, Astoria Greengrass!

"She threw a nappy at my head!" whined Harry, turning his face away from the sun steaming through the window. "And our wedding china!"

"Surely it would have bounced right off your thick skull. So, what did you tell her about the picture?"

"The truth, that you were looking at my hand," said Harry, rolling back over to face Draco who was but a white blur in the sunlight. The bed was warm but some of it came from being in his favourite place, his safe haven. Haven. He'd bought the flat when Draco had joined the team, strutting around in the lockers naked whilst only Harry was in occupation. "It is a good thing that they caught a fairly innocuous moment, eh. She believed me once I explained the whole event to her."

"…are you telling me that you had the chance to tell her about us, now that the whole world thinks it, and you didn't?"

"Draco…"

Draco jumped out of the bed, his voice icy cold. "No, I cannot think of any possible excuse why you denied it –"

"She's my wife!"

"This was the perfect opportunity to come clean about everything and you stuffed us back even further into the broom closet!"

"She's the mother of my children, I can't just – "

"That's fine Potter, go back to your woman." And with that, Draco left.

A week had passed before Harry noticed the ache settle in. It was a dull throb under his ribs and it kept him awake at night, looking out the bedroom window for a blond-haired figure streaking across the night sky. Draco was never more beautiful than when he was on a broom. That was how things had started, when he'd finally accepted that maybe the labels that defined him as a person weren't simply 'husband' or 'straight'.

It had been almost two years ago. He'd gone back one night to get something he'd forgotten from his locker…what that thing was, he can't remember. All he remembered was pulling up to the stadium and seeing the floodlights for the pitch gleaming off the windscreen. Instead of retrieving his lost item, Harry felt himself veer toward the pitch entrance, his curiosity leading him.

And there had been Malfoy. Stark bullock naked on a broom, stretching out for the Snitch and moving more seamlessly through the air than ever before, as if Malfoy had decided clothes weren't aerodynamic enough. And he'd thought to himself, "oh god, I need to be inside him…', and with that thought, Harry forgot he was married, had children and a penchant for vaginas.

When Malfoy finally noticed Harry, he'd swooped down and lounged in the air like a big cat, offering Harry the Snitch. "I think I would have applied to be Seeker if it wasn't for you. Old habits die hard, eh."

Coach had interrogated everyone about where the missing equipment was going, but Harry had kept that Snitch. Locked away where Ginny couldn't find it.

It had been a whole week since the photo had leaked out for everyone to read over their tea and biscuits, and Harry had released a press statement denying the whole stupidity. He'd told the press that he would sue for such slander. Draco had made a brief statement to the papers as well, simply saying that 'it made good gossip, good publicity and he hoped the team would see merchandise sales benefit', which Harry noticed wasn't exactly a denial.

The consequential fallout was still occurring. What felt like a million journalists were camped out on his lawn, Ginny was giving him the frosty shoulder in bed and Albus had learnt the word 'fuck' which hadn't improved Molly's temper when she came round to offer her support. Letters were pouring in all day and night, supportive, accusative and outraged, the floo had to be locked up and he had to cancel his training because it was against health and safety to be playing with so many paparazzi on the pitch.

The Prophet still had much to say on the matter, speculating on his and Draco's compatibility through their star signs, and what legal entitlement Ginny would have once Harry left her. The Quibbler had taken to stalking Draco it appeared.

As he tried to wash Lily in the kitchen sink, he had the magazine propped up on the draining board, watching the picture of Malfoy and Astoria coming out of a club in London.

Harry watched the picture loop. As they fell out of the club, leaving the beating lights inside and entered the flashing lights of the paparazzi, Malfoy curled a protective shoulder in front of Astoria, hiding her from view ineffectively.

However, despite the useless press release, the consequential articles staring Draco's name did better at diminishing rumours. Astoria twinkled on his arm outside restaurants, pubs, clubs and fancy events. It seemed that in the absence of meeting up at Haven, Draco had filled his social life with every possible event he could attend.

As Harry watched the photo loop over again, he felt something hollow settle under his ribs, making him want to shake the newspaper until the occupants of the photo would come to their senses. Lily gave a squeal and began shedding crocodile tears into the sink-water, moving Harry's attention away from the print.

"Leave me alone." Hissed Ginny, her face still turned into her pillow.

Harry frowned but scooted closer despite her rebuke. He placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed the smooth freckled skin, she tried to buck him off with a violent shrug. "Ginny…"

"Get off, Harry."

Harry gave a huff of frustration, "You said you believed me!"

"Well, I do. It's just…" she trailed off and pulled the duvet further up. "Turn the light off please, we've got an early day tomorrow."

Harry had a personal healer called Stephanie. She wasn't just his healer, she belonged the whole team, but she, like so many of the female population, had taken a shine to Harry and assigned a personal interest in him and was therefore his personal stalking healer.

Who loved The Quibbler.

"Oh Merlin," breathed Stephanie, head stuck firmly inside the pages of the magazine as Harry walked through the club lunch room Monday morning.

"Any message?" he asked, pausing by her desk. She let out a squeak and reached out a hand to grab blindly at some scrolls on her desk, her nose still firmly glued to whatever article she was reading. She mistook her Hello Kittie pencil case as a scroll, similar is cylindrical likeness and held it out to Harry.

"Stephanie."

"Hmm?"

"I don't like kittens."

She finally lifted her gaze, looking at him and then looking at her own wondrous pencil case in surprise. "Oh! Sorry, Mr Potter…messages, message…right, you go, your messages. Sorry about that!"

Harry nodded tolerantly, watching her search under all the crap for his messages. As she searched, his eyes flickered to the open magazine where Draco was posed in a picture, the world "scandalous!" written in bold letters.

He sent Stephanie off to the canteen to pick up his lunch and used her absence to lift her of her magazine.

The article was not what he had expected. Despite the large pictures of Draco, looking gorgeous and edible, the article was an interview with Astoria.

More in the Chamber

By Luna Lovegood

"Draco just isn't my lover," said Astoria Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass fortune, whilst sipping her tea in the expensive Belle Fleur restaurant. "He is also my best friend. That's why I'm okay with threesomes, I want to give him everything he wants!"

Harry gripped the pages with intensity as he scanned the rest of the article, looking for the gender of these additional lovers. It would be one thing for Draco to leave him for his woman, a whole other matter to touch another man.

Harry watched the papers avidly after that, and rumours about the illustrious pair's love life was spiralling out of control. Rumours that they were inviting veela, centaurs and erotic house elves into their bed were bordering on libellous. And yet neither Malfoy nor his hussy girlfriend released any press statements refuting the rumours.

Harry knew he should stop following the scandal, it wasn't good for his health; he had dreamt a couple of time that he was in Malfoy Manor, with a tea towel tied round his neck to save the virtue of nipples whilst holding a silver tray at waist level, his cock and balls resting on the cold metal, garnished with parsley and asking the Master if he wished for any of the hors d'oeuvres.

"Good work, Potter, just remember that the Snitch isn't a potato, okay? No need to be so rough."

"Sorry about that, coach," said Harry, sheepishly handing over the Snitch with its wings all bent out of shape.

He'd accidentally crushed the equipment when he'd seen Draco smile flirtatiously out the corner of his eye to another Chaser in the middle of his Wronski Feint. It was either crush the Snitch in frustration or splatter himself passive aggressively across the fast approaching ground.

Leaving the rest of his teammates to their post-training roughhousing in the air, consisting mostly of trying to hook each other's bristles together to interrupt the anti-jolt charms, Harry trudged to the showers. The quicker he could leave the better.

He stood under the water, taps turned to tepid until goosebumps raised along his arms and thought about what awaited him at home. With the resumption of Quidditch, he was back in regular proximity to Malfoy – a golden hew on the edge of his vision – and this had caused Ginny to reinforce her cold front. She wouldn't let him hold her in the night but he'd woken up a couple of times in the dark to hear a familiar buzzing noise under the covers. James kept creeping round in the bushes to listen to the gossip among the paparazzi camped in the garden and had come back yesterday asking Harry what a 'fudge-packer' was. He told him a man who makes wraps up sweeties and James had demanded for his dad's supposed hidden stash of goodies.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts about having to give away his hidden Muggle sweets – Mars bars and Curly Wurlies, oh yes – when a hand reached into his vision and adjusted the his taps. The water turned scorching on his prickled skin and Harry cast a sideward glance to the only man on the team to have the balls to stand right next to him in a full room of empty showerheads.

"You know," said Harry, blinking through the water and trying not to look at the way Draco's hair curled around his ears when it was wet. "It's not considered socially acceptable to touch another man's tap."

Draco snickered, "Calling it that now, eh? What was wrong with the old name, Mister Fluff-ring?"

Harry felt himself flush. It had been one time when he was drunk, but bloody Malfoy could never let it lie. "Shuddup."

"So…" hummed Draco, adjusting his own taps. Harry noted that he was purposely turned away, not to avoid eye contact, but to flex his buttocks tauntingly in Harry's face.

"So…" returned Harry. He rubbed at his arms as if he was still cold, anywhere to put his hands than on Draco's backside, press his thumbs into the dimples of his cheeks and leave bruises on his hips.

"I've missed you."

Harry looked up to find Draco sending a look over his shoulder. It was a look that was shockingly honest for an ex-Slytherin.

"Really? Because in the papers it looks like you're too busy to miss me."

Draco shrugged, the water falling over his shoulders and travelling the length of his spine. "Astoria doesn't mind sharing…She knew about you, you know."

Harry snorted. "Then she's stupider than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"If she had half a brain cell to knock about, she'd keep you locked away where no one can touch you," hissed Harry unable to stand stoic a moment longer. He took two decisive steps closer as the words left him, pressing himself against the length of Malfoy's back and trapping him in as he reached for the taps. Harry turned the red tap, the water getting steadily hotter with every breath he huffed out across that curly bit of hair behind Draco's ear.

"You're an idiot, Potter." Malfoy pressed back into Harry's chest and Harry felt himself relax for the first time in weeks. "What makes you think people don't want to do the same to you?"

"Come back to Haven with me."

"And be your dirty little secret again?"

"Please, Draco…" Harry thrust his hips forward.

Two minutes later, they were tumbling out of the air, landing in a tangle of limbs on the mussed bedcovers that were still stained from their fallout.

Harry couldn't believe how much he'd missed this. He pressed kisses into the damp patch behind Draco's ear, nuzzling at his throat, pulled, pushed and pressed with the rest of his bed.

There was little foreplay involved. Separation had made them desperate and what was a hand worth to a hole or cock?

Harry wedged apart Draco's thighs with his knee, settling flush against the cradle of his hips and dipped a hand between them. A precursory stroke of Draco's cock was merely a short detour to his true goal. He swirled a finger around the puckered hole and was unsurprised that it was slick because Malfoy was a true Slytherin, the manipulative bastard, and Harry told him so.

"Little slut, all slick…thought I'd fuck you on the tiled floor, did you?"

Draco just gave a loud moan in response. He mumbled something incoherent, pressing sharp teeth to the corner of Harry's jaw and biting down, hard.

Harry let Malfoy maul him without being really aware of the abuse, too focused on that feel…that feel of home that was wrapped around his fingers. Warm, tight and wriggling, the body beneath his was like a welcome back from his life in domestic limbo. He tried to hold in the whimper of relief, being so close to the wonderful heat again but the pathetic sound escaped him.

"Can I fuck you?" asked Harry. His voice was low, from arousal and embarrassment. To just...take, after having rowed and still not really reconciled…it felt wrong. Like getting lucky on a first date, he wanted to make sure he wasn't taking advantage of a tipsy partner. Because Harry felt tipsy, his head floating on hormones and wondering why he would ever leave such a wonderful creature like Draco. Arched and flushed, his mouth perched open and a pink tongue peeking out of the dark cavern…to say…

"Potter, you are such a dick. Which part of 'ooooooh, yessss, please!' don't you understand?"

Deciding that he didn't want to dignify the snarky bastard with a response, Harry thrust up against the crack of Malfoy's arse, catching against his hole and eliciting a groan from both of them.

Shifting enough to slide a hand between them, Harry poised himself into position and looked into Malfoy's face.

The way Draco's eyes rolled, grey irises slipping under hooded lids as he threw his head back was almost too much for Harry. However, he couldn't take his eyes away as he slowly pushed forward, penetrating that hot heat and digging his fingers into Draco's hips. It was a habit he had come to cultivate, wanting desperately to watch his cock sink in between firm buttocks and a tight ring of muscle accept him greedily, but in that moment, he couldn't ever bring himself to look away from Draco's face. Flushed and panting, with pink rising up the line of his neck.

Harry lifted up his hips and jerked just that millimetre in further to relish the moment. Then wasting no more time, he jerked his hips, throwing them backwards and forwards, lifting Draco's arse up off the bed until the angle created a throaty groan.

Harry begun to fuck Draco, fast and rough, and if he admitted to himself, a little desperately. Rising and falling over Draco, he lost himself to the sensations surrounding him. Heels were digging into the back of his thighs, an arm looped around his neck and one hand gripping his arm hard enough to stop circulation.

Leaning forward, trapping Draco's face between his forearms, Harry whispered against his lips, "Feel good?"

Draco nodded ardently, rolling his hips up whilst his hand bumped against Harry's stomach as tugging at his own red, leaking cock. Strings of precum slicked between them, making their bodies one smooth glide as Harry ground down and hit that sweet spot.

Harry was the first to come. His balls had drawn tight as he hooked an arm under Draco's thigh, bending him in half and listening as Draco panted out all dirty sorts of things with no filter from his brain. And when Draco had said '…in my filthy hole, harder, god, missed you…so much…please…" Harry had stiffened up and growling out something intelligible.

Despite feeling sensitive and the haze of sleep always creeping up from the back of his mind, he continued to push in as much as he could until Draco became one big arch. They fell into one big sticky mess and Harry smiled at the ceiling, happiness falling over him as he remained ignorant of the fact he would wake up alone.

Caught Again!

By Luna Lovegood

Harry Potter needs no introduction, and by the firm backside of his co-star (see left), Draco Malfoy needs no further embellishment either. A couple of weeks ago, the whole country was shocked by speculation, however, the photo sent anonymously to the press left little doubt about the nature of the Quidditch stars' relationship. A good locker room scene, whilst a tired cliché, makes the nation beg for retro when these two are involved. They are not merely team players on the pitch.

Turn to page 4 on Ginny Weasley's reaction

Turn to page 5 and 6 for Potter's briefs on the lawn

Turn to page 11 for official press release from Chudley Canons

Turn to page 18 for Mrs Childers Custody prediction

Harry knew it was not a good idea, that he wasn't in control of his emotions and storming through the gates of Malfoy Manor was insane. He thundered up to the front door, the dozing Paparazzi jolted awake by the crack of his Apparation. They swarmed around him as he stood on the doorstep, waiting for it to be answered.

"Mr Potter, what did your wife say when she found out you'd lied last time –"

"Harry! How long has your relationship with Mr Ma –"

"Did the homophobic atmosphere of the world series make you decide to make Miss Weasley your beard?"

"Who accepts penetration – you or Mr Malfoy? Or do you switch your domin -"

"He fucks me with a dildo up his bum," replied Draco, casting a wink to the mob before pulling Harry inside and slamming the door in their flabbergasted expressions. In the quiet stillness of the entrance hallway, Draco had only enough time to let out a delighted cackle before Harry tackled him.

"Fuck's sake – Potter!"

"You have ruined everything! Ginny has thrown me out, I have nowhere to live, I have only the clothes on my back, I have no wife and – oh god, my kids – it's all your fault, you fucker!"

"Okay, you are delusional!"

"What?"

"You are rich, you could buy a new house with the click of your vault key in a moment's notice – and you own Haven! And you can easily afford clothes, though fashion sense…" Harry growled warningly but Draco just continued relentlessly, "and she won't take away your kids. She's not that sort of woman."

"You have ruined my whole reputation!"

"Pfft, hardly."

"You heard their questions out there – asking me about how I feel betraying Ginny-?"

"I also heard the question about feeling repressed to show your true gay self in the homophobic sports industry – I quite agree, you are repressed. Time to step out of that closet, Potter."

"Before all this, my image in the media was stellar – unlike yours, parading round like some cheap slut with your whore wife –""

"Fuck you!" Draco shoved him hard, startlingly Harry onto his arse. "I'm getting off this pity broom – you are such a self-centred bastard. Merlin, you call me vain, but listen to you, so concerned with your public image, so concerned with being the proper little hero – well fuck you, you should have left your wife, dumped the dull hag, because I love you!"

"…"

"Oh don't look like that! Let me tell you something, you thick wit – we are in love. We'd have to be for me to keep putting up with your bullshit. Weasley isn't going to take you back, there is no way she is going to think we're shaking hands in that last picture. This is the last time I'm going to try and get it through your brain damaged head – I want you. Stay with me."

"I…" Harry didn't quite know what to say because…well because Malfoy was insane and he couldn't remember off the top of his head what you're supposed to do around people who were swinging off the hinge.

"Do you love me?" asked Draco.

"I don't know!" cried Harry, horrified to find himself in such an uncomfortable and unmanly conversation.

"I know you are socially defective, but work with me here," sighed Draco. "What do you feel about me?"

"I don't know!" repeated Harry. He caught the look on Draco's face and decided he was going to have to expand. "I mean, erm…I sort of don't like you…you're annoying most of the time. You hog the covers…And you sing off tune when we share the shower which irritates me even when I'm alone in the shower – and you are too demanding…"

"Go on…" said Draco, nodded encouragingly at every slur Harry felt falling from his lips. It gave him the confidence to go on.

"And I don't like that you always stick your cold feet on me in the night, you always make that squeaky noise when you're feeling insulted and I don't find it cute, you just sound like a stepped-on mouse. You spend too much time on your hair and you always forget I prefer decaf when you bring me coffee…I think I basically find you the most irritating person ever."

"Really?" said Draco, his voice patient and prompting.

"Yeah, it drives me mental. You're so annoying that you don't even have to be there to piss me off."

"So you think about me all the time then?"

"Erm, suppose…"

"And you notice all the little things I do?"

"Well that's because they're so irritating…"

"And you still hang around with me even though I'm annoying?"

"Erm, you're a good shag?" suggested Harry flimsily, his voice wavering.

Harry felt backed into a corner because the evidence was beginning to become very clear and it was a worrying sign that as defender of the wizarding world, he should have spotted something so obvious before now…being spelt out to him by the perpetrator.

Draco seemed to take pity on him, he dropped gracefully to the floor with his knees hitting the marble with a soft crack and settled himself over Harry's spewed legs. Looping one arm around Harry's shoulders and slinging him a lazy smile, Draco said, "Don't worry about it, Potter. I would have been shocked to my very core if you had figured it out on your own."

Harry didn't quite know what to think because being in love with Ginny had just been like going to school or tying his shoelaces, mandatory and necessary.

He could however think enough to know he'd been insulted. "Hey, I'm plenty smart, I'm sure I could have figured it out. I'm just not as womanly-sensitive as you are."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Womanly-sensitive? I think you are a little confused. There is a part of me that's sensitive, but I promise you it's not that womanly. Would you like to see it?"

Of course, thought Harry, his hands already on Draco's belt. He always wanted to see Draco's non-woman parts; that'd been half the problem with Ginny. Or the whole problem because the top half was squidgy and so had been the bottom half.

But with Draco's not so squidgy parts in his hand, other than the soft-enough-to-rub-over-his-face-after-shared-showers-ball-sack, Harry found it very hard to think about Ginny, the paparazzi on the other side of the door or the possible fall of his career.

Damn Slytherins.

Scorned Lovers' Heart to Heart

By Luna Lovegood

It may seem shocking, but in times of heartbreak, some have to look for friends who understand the pain. Ginny Potter, currently filing for divorce, was seen lunching in Diagon Alley with Astoria Greengrass. Readers may speculate what these two have possibly got to talk about, but …

Harry folded the paper, putting a crease in the middle of the table that separated Astoria and Ginny, and looked at Draco who was climbing back into bed with a plate of toast, precariously piled up high. "Grub's up. I ran out of jam though."

"Hmm…" Harry took a slice and bit into it, warm butter dripping over his tongue and greasing the corner of his mouth.

"Don't worry," said Draco, tapping the newspaper, buttery finger smearing the monochrome ink of Ginny's hair. "My girl will look after your baggage; she's always been partial to redheads."

Harry looked at the newspaper, thought about the press leak that made Ginny try and dunk him in the nappy bin, the cool tone of Astoria's interviews a fortnight before. "How convenient…" he said, and took another bite of his toast in bed. Without his wife, but he supposed that wouldn't be quite so terrible.

END