Harry tilted in a polite bow as a couple perhaps twice his and Draco's age bowed and curtsied in response. They were dressed more for a ball than a friendly summer's picnic, and Harry was instantly wary. "A pleasure," he said.

"Oh no, the pleasure is all ours," Mr Skeeter boomed, his voice rattling Harry's lower abdomen. "We have heard many a tale of you young sir."

Harry glanced imperceptibly at Draco, nervous of what they could be referring to. "All favourable I hope?" he asked, trusting that his nerves were not showing.

"All remarkable," Mrs Skeeter gasped, slapping her fan to her bosom and stepping over to him. "An orphan of little standing, to find himself in such a favourable position in life, it is a little less than wondrous."

Harry immediately turned to Draco for assistance, but was dismayed to find he had been swept away by Mr Skeeter into another crowd, and was only able to spare Harry a fleeting glance.

So Harry steeled his courage, and let out a small breath he hoped to disguise with a smile. "Wondrous is a strong word, Mrs Skeeter," he said pleasantly. "I was merely lucky to have such kind relatives take me in." (And there, was the first outrageous lie of the day, for there were many words Harry could use to describe his relations, kind being the last of them.) "And then further lucky still to have made a lifelong friend in Mr Malfoy. Through him, my status was raised most generously, and through him also did I make the acquaintance of my darling wife, which in turn gave me both a son and a daughter."

It had not quite been as simple as all that of course, but the words he spoke were true. Their friendship had survived both the young men realising, with tumultuous shock, that their love for each other was far more than brotherly, and so the task had been to set the stage for two convincing marriages, with neither party truly married to the other.

It had always been part of that agreement to father heirs, so their estates would be ensured, and family names preserved. The logistics of such had been a little tricky to negotiate, but both the men had been delighted to find their wives with child mere months apart, and to have both children be male had allayed all fears immediately as to the future of the Malfoy and Potter lines.

Life was not always that simple though, as Ginevra had come a year or two later to Harry in great distress, having concealed her true feelings for long enough. The youngest of six brothers, living in a world of men, Ginny had confessed guiltily of dreaming of a daughter, and feeling utterly wretched for such a selfish notion. Harry though, although surprised, had taken her needs to heart. He had hoped not to repeat the intimacy which they had shared again, for it was utterly against his nature, but he knew too, full well, that Ginevra did not wish such an experience either. What she wished was a daughter, and amongst the four of them, they had decided Harry and Ginny would try once more for a child.

Harry thought little Molly, named for Mrs Weasley and currently cradled in Ginevra's arms, might be his favourite of all the shared children. Purely because she had given her mothers what they both so dearly wanted.

No, the shared experience of the Potters and the Malfoys had not been a simple one, and it was guaranteed through their continued lives it never would be. But it was indeed a lucky one.

"So you see," Harry concluded. "It is not quite so wondrous as fortuitous, but you can be assured that I am grateful every day nonetheless." He rather hoped he could quell Mrs Skeeter's enthusiasm and make his excuses to leave, but she hung on his every word like a beggar desperate for pennies.

"You downplay such remarkable events," Mrs Skeeter said, with an uncomfortable air of one that had the upper hand in the conversation. "I am not sure you are aware, but Mr Skeeter is the owner and regulator of the largest paper in the southern counties – I am sure you have heard of The Prophet, have you not?"

Harry did very well to school his reactions, as The Prophet was a disreputable rag as far as he was concerned, dedicated to the slanderous gossip that it flaunted alongside the actual news, with the sole intention of destroying the lives of innocent people.

As someone who knew his life could be ruined in an instant, Harry always sided with the 'guilty' party, and felt keenly for what must surely turn out to be their ruination.

"I have yes," he conceded.

"Well," Mrs Skeeter pursued. "We are privileged to many channels of communication, and it is my knowledge that both yours and Mr Malfoy's betrothals happened within hours of each other, and that you were not always so close – the many years you spent apart whilst he was studying at Oxford I mean."

Harry frowned authentically at his current social partner, wishing more than ever for her departure. "These are not so miraculous events, Mrs Skeeter," he said patiently. "The temporary separation you have mentioned between Mr Malfoy and I is only natural considering the social chasm that lorded over our acquaintance. We were young men, with feelings close to the surface, and for a time it got the better of us. I am delighted to say we overcame them, and when we travelled in the same social circles, is it hardly so surprising that we would both find desirable young ladies to our liking, and chose to announce our intentions within an agreed time frame?" He smirked, allowing his fond memories to guide him. "After all, if you know anything of Malfoy and I, you will know of our fierce competitiveness?"

Mrs Skeeter narrowed her eyes at Harry, studying him. "Yes, of course," she said with a fluttering laugh. "But how then did you accrue such a fortunate home? You have no actual connection to the Malfoy family, for him to bestow such a property on you?"

Again, Harry scowled down at the peculiar creature at his side, her jewels and coloured feathers glinting in the bold afternoon sun. "Mrs Skeeter," he said patiently. "I am unsure as to what tales you have heard, but I purchased Malfoy Cottage legitimately, through a desire from all parties to be living within close proximity to one another – Mrs Potter and Mrs Malfoy are close acquaintances from their later youth too, didn't you know?"

"Yes I did know that," she conceded with eyes glancing sideways.

"And you should know that for a couple in our position, the rent is very favourable?"

Mrs Skeeter met Harry with a beaming smile that he was sure had wilted many a man in the past. But he was not to be fooled. "I am sorry, I do not wish to intrude on your personal arrangements," Mrs Skeeter simpered, snapping her fan open and cooling herself once again. "But, I have heard some astounding accounts, and as a worldly woman I am intrigued as to certain peculiarities in the relationship shared between you and Mrs Potter, with that of Mr and Mrs Malfoy?"

Harry felt the very flesh on his neck stir in apprehension. "Mrs Skeeter," he said, his voice cold. It was not his usual manner, he was known to all as delightful and happy man. But he was not enamoured with this busy-body's line of questioning. "I am not sure that the married life of either myself and Mrs Potter, or the Malfoys, have any relevance to anyone besides ourselves.

She dipped her head in contrition and fanned herself again, making her auburn curls bounce. "My dear Mr Potter," she breathed, like a dear friend would a secret. "I am merely concerned for your well-being. For your happiness in marriage. For I have heard that you barely spend five nights per year at your own home, and instead seek refuge in this very abode." She widened her eyes and flicked her fan towards Malfoy Manor, and Harry's heart clenched.

"My dear madam!" he barked out in a laugh, partly natural, and partly constructed to cover his great distress. "Does The Daily Prophet credit its sources amongst idle house staff?" He adjusted his jacket and wished fervently he had a cup of tea to sip on to distract his nerves. But he stilled them forcibly and laughed once again. "I do indeed enjoy a considerable amount of male company, as do our wives seek female companionship with each other. But this was the design is such close housing arrangements, I fail to see the unusualness?"

Mrs Skeeter's eyes pierced him dangerously, and for a moment Harry forgot the hundreds of guests milling about them, and saw only the threat before him. "The unusualness of most nights of the year spent apart from the woman you bound yourself to by God and by law?"

The question hung for only a moment, until thank Christ almighty they were once again reunited with their other halves.

"Potter you look positively famished," Draco announced possessively as he slung an arm around his shoulders. "Has Mrs Skeeter been delighting you too fervently?"

Harry smiled defiantly at her. "Not at all," he announced. "Though I feel the hour has come to switch from tea to wine, what say you dear fellow?"

Draco, his beloved, saw the keen desperation in his eyes, and lit up his features accordingly. "Why I do believe you are right!" he exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "Let us go find Dobson, he will see to that matter at once."

They bid their farewells to the Skeeters, and slipped into the throng.